So, I have managed to add the picture to a post. Woo hoo….I wanted it separate. Cannot figure out how to do that.
Posts Tagged ‘poets’
Frustrated
Posted in Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged Poems, poetry, poets, Writers, Writing on June 4, 2011| Leave a Comment »
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.
THE VIOLIN # 2
Posted in Emotions, Love, Writers, Writing, tagged Emotions, Love, poetry, poets on March 19, 2011| 1 Comment »
THE VIOLIN
3/18/11
Copyright 2011 Gordon L Kuhn
Once,
years ago
I felt,
I touched
a violin!
Just the once.
It was gently placed
within my hands,
and I was shown
a single note,
and how to play
just the one note.
Once,
years ago,
and as I touched the bow
to the strings
which lay silent waiting
waiting for the barely felt touch,
and
as it sang out
as the bow crossed lightly
over the tightly stretched
and silent waiting strings
I was seduced!
My soul was lifted free
to dance alone in the sky
swept away by the single note
above where no one could see
and as the one note pierced the evening air
it touched me so soft and so gentle fair
as would a lover’s fingertips follow curves
and brought joy beyond belief
the first love
the first kiss
Once, just the once
I found myself to have been seduced
So gently taken
So softly led
to a waiting bed of music laid
so many years ago.
MORNING COMES
Posted in Love, Poems, Poetry, Waking, tagged Love, Poems, poetry, poets on March 13, 2011| Leave a Comment »
MORNING COMES
3/8/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
The morning comes as morning surely does
and I arise to find a cup of steaming coffee waiting there
for my lovely bride her hand has made
a healthy pot for us to share.
Then comes toast and marmalade
two basted eggs and, oh yes, some bacon please
which beside the toast upon the plate is laid
a lovely hostess and service with such amazing ease.
UNABLE, COLLAPSING
Posted in Fantasy, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writers, tagged Poems, poetry, poets, Writers, Writing on February 20, 2011| 1 Comment »
UNABLE, COLLAPSING
2/20/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
I’m collapsing in pain
swept away with the shame
that I cannot capture and hold
the words and phrases so wondrous and bold
which assault, no, no in tenderness touch
yet unaware they are how deep the knife is plunged
with every line that slips past, every beat, every sound
that sweeps me up and tears me apart
leaves me in a crumbled heap
my pen is useless
I cannot keep up
how sad it is to see them fade
from the field from the glade
of flowered birth
oh, God, how I am swept away in pain
adrift, alone, tired, and in shame.
NEW COOK
2/19/2011
Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn
Eggs, please,
basted
what?
basted
lightly surfaced film on top
uh, no, not over easy
basted
no, funny that, no not scrambled
thanks for asking
and, while we are at it,
coffee,
no, not tea,
coffee
basted?
but its easy
I simply want
basted, basted, basted
no, no, not poached
Christ!
basted, basted, like your brains
soft with a film on top.
Oh God. okay, cooked.
okay?
Yes, take the damn shell off first
most people do that.
WISHING
Posted in Depression, Emotions, Fantasy, Love, Poems, tagged Depression, Emotions, Fantasy, Poems, poetry, poets on February 19, 2011| 1 Comment »
WISHING
2/19/2011
Stillness comes my way today and is well put to stay
and how I wish it could
how I wish it would
how I wish that it should
but linger in its way
on its way.
But while I wish it would
how I wish it could
how I wish it should
in softness would linger throughout the day
linger while the clear blue of day ascends
while clouds pass by as cotton wisps of candy made
while the hand of an immortal is held, is made to stay
from encroaching, from directing the human play
for sadness cannot in this day pretend
when as truth it fails the post, fails to host
no rain drops from it shall fall my way
and yet, and yet
the stillness does not stay
does not linger on its way.