Fast note. My book: The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems is now on Kindle for 99 cents.
Posted in Poetry, Writers, Writing | Tagged Depression, Emotions, Fantasy, Love, Poems, poetry, poets, Writers, Writing | Leave a Comment »
THE GARBAGE TRUCK
7/6/11
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn “Poet in the Rain”
7/6/11
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn “Poet in the Rain”
The bang and clang, a passing metal beast,
In search of an oddly flavored feast.
With rubber wheels, as booted feet,
This day trods upon our quiet street.
Lumbering , stumbling,
It lurches from side to side.
While loudly, to itself, complaints mumbling,
And taking great breaths in its stride
Great gulps of fresh clean air.
Then belches back in thick smoke,
Black and foul back out to share
From twin stacks exhaust to choke
Those of us who might come too close
Its mission we are to observe but not share
The agony of its life, this eater of the morose
But we can still for its life simply offer up our care.
Posted in Fantasy, Poems, Poetry | Tagged Poems, poetry, poets | 1 Comment »
THE GAME AT SIX
7/4/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn “The Poet in the Rain”
He was six,
I think.
Six is such a young age
To die.
To die when the world is young.
So young and fresh.
Playing baseball.
The bat came back,
Freed from hands
Whose grip was too loose.
So young and guiltless,
And memories now still fill,
Of the sound of the strike,
Against your best friend’s chest.
Just a game, they said.
Just a game.
Three days later,
Standing in a cemetery,
That stretched
To the end of the earth
Or so it seemed.
On a bright, warm, summer’s day.
The sky so clear and so blue.
Where was the rain?
Shouldn’t there have been rain?
Shouldn’t there have been angels there to cry?
They laid your friend away,
In a small white casket,
Flower covered it was.
But wasn’t he allergic to such as that?
Could he sneeze?
Did someone pack tissues
In his pockets?
He always had tissues.
And a minister spoke of heaven,
Of heaven and hell,
And redemption.
And did his best to assure
Everyone there that
A special place there was for those age six.
And those living age six,
Stood in mild confusion.
Was he really in that box?
And the rain then came!
In tears!
It came in streams.
Amid sobs and shaking.
As those age six stood and fidgeted.
It came as a torrent would.
If only the sky could.
But the sky!
The sky, so clear and so blue,
So distant, yet so near;
The sky stayed blue and cloudless.
Blue and cloudless on that fated day.
For clouds there were enough,
There among the living!
There for the one whose heart,
At six, had stopped its beating.
Forever young.
Forever six.
Forever dead.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Poems, poetry | 2 Comments »
THE GAME AT SIX
7/4/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn “The Poet in the Rain”
He was six,
I think.
Six is such a young age
To die.
To die when the world is young.
So young and fresh.
Playing baseball.
The bat came back,
Freed from hands
Whose grip was too loose.
So young and guiltless,
And memories now still fill,
Of the sound of the strike,
Against your best friend’s chest.
Just a game, they said.
Just a game.
Three days later,
Standing in a cemetery,
That stretched
To the end of the earth,
Or so it seemed.
On a bright, warm, summer’s day.
The sky so clear and so blue.
Where was the rain?
Shouldn’t there have been rain?
Shouldn’t there have been angels there to cry?
They laid your friend away,
In a small white casket,
Flower covered it was.
But wasn’t he allergic to such as that?
Could he sneeze?
Did someone pack tissues
In his pockets?
He always had tissues.
And a minister spoke of heaven,
Of heaven and hell,
And redemption.
And did his best to assure
Everyone there that
A special place there was for those age six.
And those living age six
Stood in mild confusion.
Was he really in that box?
And the rain then came
In tears
It came in streams
Amid sobs and shaking
As those age six stood and fidgeted.
It came as a torrent would.
If only the sky could.
But the sky!
The sky, so clear and so blue,
So distant, yet so near;
The sky stayed blue and cloudless.
Blue and cloudless on that fated day.
For clouds there were enough,
There among the living!
There for the one whose heart,
At six, had stopped its beating.
Forever young.
Forever six.
Forever dead.
Posted in Emotions, Poetry | Tagged poetry | Leave a Comment »
Posted in Depression, Fantasy, Poems, Poetry | Tagged Depression, Emotions, Fantasy, Poems, poetry | Leave a Comment »
I don’t understand. Eighteen people visited the site after I put out a comment that I was very frustrated because I cannot figure out how to put a picture on the blog. 18 people. That is more in one week than have been here all month
Posted in Fantasy, Poems, Poetry, Writers, Writing | Tagged Poems, poetry, poets, Writers, Writing | 3 Comments »
So, I have managed to add the picture to a post. Woo hoo….I wanted it separate. Cannot figure out how to do that.
Posted in Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing | Tagged Poems, poetry, poets, Writers, Writing | Leave a Comment »
This is just a test as I am messing around with the header.
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »
THE FUNERAL PYRE
5/20/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn “Poet in the Rain”
The following is a poetic reflection on
All the Beautiful Things
written by author Andrew Meek.
====================================
The flames licked and sucked upon the food,
T’was fed the crackling heart of fire lent;
As papers, memories, laughter, all the beautiful things, loves past mood
Orange, red, and curling grey rose and ate until all was spent.
Nothing there was to be kept.
All there over each had been wept.
A slender hand fed food the glowing, hungry, naked beast,
Which ate so hungrily the memories stained with fallen tears
And, how oddly, she, the igniter of the flames, not in the least,
Came to realize, burning memories set her free, reduced her fears.
Nothing in memory or tangible she brought there was to be kept.
All brought there over each had been silent wept.
That all that had been or was to be, had come and gone now with the ticking of passing time
As memories had failed to stand with her neither strong nor true
Alone, now, she watched dreams reduce to ashes, and heard a distant church bell chime
And then, in deep and stark awareness knew, she had stood true to herself and seen the issue through.
Nothing else in memory had been for her that day was kept.
All that was or could have been over each had been silently wept.
Posted in Depression, Love | Tagged Love, Poems | 1 Comment »
Poet in the Rain 