So, I have managed to add the picture to a post. Woo hoo….I wanted it separate. Cannot figure out how to do that.
Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category
Frustrated
Posted in Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged Poems, poetry, poets, Writers, Writing on June 4, 2011| Leave a Comment »
FACES
Posted in Emotions, Fantasy, Poems, Poetry, The Moon, The Ocean, The Sea, The Sun, Uncategorized, Waking, Writers, Writing, tagged Emotions, Fantasy, Fear, Love, Poems, poetry on May 9, 2011| Leave a Comment »
FACES
5/9/2011
Copyright Gordon Kuhn
Poet in the Rain
====================
Traffic slows, and I, in major working thought, do then suppose,
To try, while the world is in passing, amid birthing, dying throes,
and life’s loves and hates, like ocean waves,
come crashing upon a waiting, aged, and battered shore.
But——for this my curiosity grows,
But for this, but for this, and nothing more;
To introduce questions about issues, life, and things that which
No answers for them can be found, yet how they in power bewitch.
And therefore, in the surrounding still,
as stubbornly my soul will allow, I do question and propose by strength of will,
Else in discontented pleasure of a mixture of regrets would collapse and drown
Would but sink neath the folds of life, and disappear beneath the waiting ground.
Oddly, then, in thought, I am passing the vision intact, and unmasking,
A moment——a spotlighted vagary, licensed to catch up my mind,
Profound and electric as it starts, begins to compose,
While driving and looking out the windowpanes of my car.
A thousand images spring forth at once from both near and far.
Nevertheless, it is the faces in the vision quest that occupy my whimsy this night,
And will haunt my pathway into the coming dawn which, then ablaze in splinters of light,
Will break across the sparkled obsidian garment overhead interrupting the stoic archer
Who, in a locked position, defined by patterned star
Has never let the arrow loose, but then the archer is no true marcher
And from another position in the sky the archer is slain
For such as frozen is when viewed from the top, the bottom, the left
For such the right, the front or the back the original does not remain
And such is the case for changes made to the faces of man and woman cast in light, shadow, or darkness, in the sun, and in the rain.
Those laughing, singing, those sleeping, awake, birthing, dying, dead, and——those in pain.
I find them looking back through the glass from the future, the present, and the past, from up and from down, from side to side
While in my car I do drive as the driver and as a passenger do ride.
Does that matter in the end? The changes along the way?
Are we all so changeable from close and from far?
From birth to death, from smooth to being marked by scar,
I see faces along the path, along the lane, each a centerfold,
Each a separate light, each from a broken, shattered mold
Birthed in liquid we come as chosen to the waiting fold
And with a cut we are set free from the suitcase carried in that we all call: she.
Our mother, our vessel from darkness to light
chosen by some miraculous test of wills that for life will fight
But, I pray thee, think a moment, what if in the fevered search another egg or sperm were there
And they instead had formed a singular conceptive pair
Where would our position, our world, our own star be then?
And what of that pesky problem some like to call “original sin”.
Our birthright in cell chosen made from some divine process we all suppose,
But do you truly know, do the faces really show what was taught,
And what was learned before in death we all repose?
SWIMMING ALONE
Posted in Depression, Fantasy, Poems, Poetry, tagged Depression, Fantasy, Fear, Poems, poetry on May 4, 2011| Leave a Comment »
SWIMMING ALONE
5/4/11
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
Poet in the Rain
He reached out to the world,
And found he was all alone,
Alone in a sea of blind humanity.
And he crumpled to the floor where,
He lay painful in a ball, curled there.
The world passed by where he lay.
Where he in silence, sang a song he alone did own.
No one heard the words he did try to share.
Not one took note where he did stay.
No one saw him there.
No one seemed to care.
No one stopped to say a prayer.
Unwanted Trespassing
Posted in Depression, Poems, Poetry, tagged Depression, Fantasy, Fear, Poems, poetry, poets on May 3, 2011| Leave a Comment »
UNWANTED TRESPASSING
5/3/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
Poet in the Rain
What is this place I’ve come to stumble on?
Where others, hitherto my arrival by happenstance, left footprints of their passing;
In dust where shadows lay thick made of nonporous stone,
And, I feel I might, on some holy ground be, in some profound way: unwanted in my trespassing.
While a labeled, sealed bottle sits on life’s workbench and at me stares.
Light brown liquid silent peering out of clear cut glass at me.
It would be easy to make a slip, to simply take a single prolonged sip
To feel it burn, running river wide, down my throat——but then, my friend, nothing is free.
To forget the past, will not, in liquor, in permanence stand to last,
Neither will the pain be swept clear this night from yon-scarred table
Memories of lifelong stains come rushing at me all too fast
It is hard, so very hard at times like this to remain so composed and stable.
What is this place I’ve come to stumble on?
How came I to create such hell as this while through my life I’m passing?
Heavy burdens placed alive upon my heart,
And, in truth, I feel, I might, on some holy ground be, in some profound way:
unwanted in my trespassing.
Antique Thoughts
Posted in Depression, Emotions, Fantasy, Poems, Poetry, tagged Depression, Poems, poetry, poets on April 27, 2011| Leave a Comment »
ANTIQUE THOUGHTS
4/25/11
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
Poet in the Rain
T’was twilight’s gentle waking hour.
The day bird sought shelter in its leafy tower.
Came the scent of an approaching shower,
As light creatures sought safety each in their respective bower.
But antique thoughts did in shadows restless roam.
Beneath streetlights, they did seek an easy home,
And focused on a blooded painful zone,
Where they drove their poisoned daggers to the bone.
They circled, and moved in for the kill.
I felt the closeness of their lonely chill.
I walked alone, for from them I had no safe lane or home.
Antique thoughts on darkened wing did in shadows restless roam.
They walked, and flew so close to me,
Remembrances that haunt and chide. Those no one else can ever see.
The ghosts that stood watching near my side,
As antique thoughts upon the night wind did restless ride.
Tee Tyson Reads Poetry
Posted in Emotions, Fantasy, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writers, Writing, tagged Love, poetry, poets, Writers, Writing on April 23, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Tee Tyson does a fantastic job reading my poetry. And, at the very end she does a surprise reading of one her teenage poems that I think is incredible. She doesn’t really know the strength of her talent. Her poem is striking and her reading of both hers and mine is majestic and done far better than I could have done. Thanks Tee!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nd-qQIBNetU&feature=share
Enjoy.
Gordon.
CLOWNS
Posted in Fantasy, Love, Poems, Poetry, The Wind, tagged Poems, poetry, poets on April 11, 2011| Leave a Comment »
CLOWNS
4/11/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
Poet in the Rain
The field in which the lovers quiet lay;
they, quite naked, on that gentle summer’s day.
Naked, but did not seem so to each the other,
flesh to flesh pressed were they,
wrapped in each the other’s arms.
Bewitched were they each by the other’s charms.
Surrounded, they, then the enchanted couple did stay,
by a tender, yielding earth’s blanket lay
of soft, dew-kissed, bright-green clover.
There, out of sight, in secret, hidden from the world,
their lives, their futures at once uncurled, were tenderly unfurled;
as they turned their trust in love to each other over.
Searching fingertips roamed in quest of communion with their lover,
and, as they did, reached out and touched waiting fingertips in soft discover.
A bond did form, that day, atop the yielding, sweet-soft lay of clover.
Fevered, hungered, searching lips did seek out and find the other.
She being a gentle, farmer’s virgin-daughter, and he a homeless, lonely rover.
They found a love no one could ever harm upon the sleeping clover.
Entranced from that day forever more they were.
Seduced by each the other’s charms.
While butterflies and humming birds the air about them did gently fan and stir.
A relaxing of herself did occur. The broken barrier the waiting shaft exposed.
The tower entered by strong sense of permanence yearning superimposed.
They entered a place, few ever reach, a union strong, too much in love to be ill composed.
He gently wiped the beaded moisture and clinging hair from her smiling face,
then with trembling fingers, her beauty before him did slowly trace.
Amazed at the wonder he saw there in her sparkling eyes,
far bluer than he had ever seen in any lake or ever in the skies.
Therein he saw a future ne’er dreamt could ever hold for him,
and to her pledged his love eternally from that moment forever then.
As he lifted her to lightly kiss, he told her his love was twice that of being true.
He vouchsafed himself forevermore to her that warm, hushed, and gentle day,
and the lovers, pressed close again each against the other,
fell asleep hiding in the lay of soft, sweet-summer clover,
caressed by a gentle breeze, while watched over,
guarded by ten thousand clowns set by the breeze to waving.
Each clown of summer wore a different colored hat.
A different colored hat upon each stem had Nature formed and sat.
Red, blue, pink, yellow, then, and some a blend, above each clown did stay,
As though Nature, in love with color and with shape, had placed upon each
of them special, dainty, glorious crowns that summer’s day.
Their voices soft but laughter came as in the light wind they did tilt and sway.
Twinkling jewels of dew touched more than just a few,
and sparkled as diamonds would when touched, when kissed by the sun,
and the lovers came to know gently each the other that waking day;
for wrapped in a summer’s heat for the first time as they naked lay,
wrapped in the heat of a growing lust for each the other then knew,
wrapped in a soft love that spiked and pierced the soul.
And a gallant beauty of a farmer’s daughter that day was set to foal,
from the rapt love, the two lovers that day did share.
Then, as they lay in the hotness of summer, amid the power of a torrid lust;
each pledged the other their lives would from that day forward forever share,
for each the other had grown amid a mounting trust,
a love of which came first and did forever last from that day most fair.
And other the years from their love five children lept,
while, always, each lover near the other, the pair was at all times close kept.
Until years had passed, and they were both grown old and gray.
The farmer’s gentle, virgin-daughter and the once, lonely rover,
who, together, had lain one summer’s hazy day surrounded by the soft and yielding clover
while watched over, they were, by ten thousand waving, laughing clowns.
Waving summer clowns, and each had, from the others, all worn different colored crowns.
The lovers were one day by grown children found; their arms entwined in death fast asleep.
In gentle passing their pledges to never leave, the other did each keep.
And visited they this place together one final time to lay
side by side, together at rest beneath the earth on that final day
And the clowns of summer danced while their children stood to pray
Then they lay the lovers in the waiting, loved blessed ground
at the very spot so long before where the two had each the other’s love found,
Their children and close friends stood with flowing tears wetting fresh dug soil,
used then to forever cover the resting pair in peace to stay
To rest from many long years of earthly toil
Each aged lover beneath a blanket of soft and fertile soil
And above the graves, the clowns grew tall
from summer to late that fall.
While crowns, atop each stem, nature placed as a cover,
that forever grows, each summer, above each sleeping lover.
Wednesday Morning 4/6/11
Posted in Fantasy, Love, Poems, Poetry, tagged Fantasy, Poems, poetry, Writing on April 6, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Midweek and cold outside. Am writing a new poem which I hope I can edit and post today on here and also on my other blogs. I think my readers will like it. It is a love poem about fields, flowers, children, and summer. Lots of wind and rain yesterday, will be dry and clear today. So, until I can finish editing CLOWNS I will wave and go my way, but you can definitely stay and read and comment should you feel that way. Best to you all this fine morning. I am The Poet in the Rain. Gordon Kuhn
TO LET THE MUSIC FLOW
Posted in Fantasy, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writers, Writing, tagged Fantasy, Love, Poems, poetry on April 5, 2011| 2 Comments »
TO LET THE MUSIC FLOW
April 4, 2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
It’s one AM, the dogs are loudly snoring at my feet.
My wife lies peaceful dreaming in a nearby silent room.
But——but, I am glued, held fast by unseen forces to this seat,
While words, lyrics, verses paint pictures in my head that loom,
Larger than life itself, and I could never hope to contain.
I try to focus, to keep the moments clear and maintain
In rational form to understand, but the position, I cannot sustain.
As they dance, dip and sway, for they simply carry me away.
In a sudden rush, in a momentary hush
Where the sounds that I hear become so rich and lush
And, I know I cannot force them here to stay.
I have no right to try to retain
but let them freely pass, to go.
To let the music simply flow.
It’s one AM, the sky is black outside.
The stars are there but doing their very best to hide,
As worlds of words swirl about my head,
rich images of distant places my thoughts are fed
I hear the music of distant lands and find my thoughts are gently spread,
In rapture, between heaven and hell, and beyond the gates of each
And I wonder what the muse is trying me to teach.
I know in my heart, I cannot hold the dreams in place
Only memories of the music can I ever hope on paper to trace.
I must let them freely pass, to freely go.
I must learn to let the music flow.
CROSSING
Posted in Fantasy, Love, Poems, Poetry, The Moon, The Sun, Winter, Writers, Writing, tagged Poems, poetry on April 2, 2011| Leave a Comment »
CROSSING
April 2, 2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
T’was a soft and loving summer’s night
that stood close and kissed a winter’s dawn
the warmth of long days had slowly cooled
and fall’s chill had painted pooled
a gift of basketless leaves and flowers strewn
to wither and then to dust to turn
beneath a bright and glowing autumn moon
as lengthening shadows upon the field began to loom
and creatures large and small
furred and feathered, short and tall
began to venture forth to creep into the room
while aged the world before me ran
yet t’was young and still spry as the new born fawn
that I spied one early sleepy morn
as it strutted and danced across my lawn
in love with life it jumped and pranced
while I crept as close as I could have chanced
then while embers from a fire close by
cracked and popped and began to lose their heat and die
I stood quiet as the soft tan creature passed
while in silence each found the other’s eye
and with gentleness we both touched the other’s face
and across its muzzle my fingers traced
while its warm short breaths my throat and face embraced
