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Posts Tagged ‘Writing’

  So, I have managed to add the picture to a post. Woo hoo….I wanted it separate. Cannot figure out how to do that.

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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.

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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

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UNABLE, COLLAPSING

 

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.

 

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LUCKY SOME

12/19/11

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

The lights go slowly out

as neighbors turn to rest

if rest could truly come

it matters not who might be suited best

for in shadows to succumb

but only for a lucky some.

But not for me.

for I am not free

not truly free

 

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BUTTERFLY

I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME

2/8/11

Copy Write 2011 Gordon Kuhn

Who are you?

Where are you?

I spent the better part of the day fighting for your life

do you understand that?

Yet I don’t know you

butterfly.

I and others dealt with the strife

you dropped in our lives this day

and we worked to help you in life to stay

and yet we know not who or where you are

tell me,

butterfly,

are you close or are you far?

Have your wings found the burning match?

You tumbled out and left the door to your soul standing wide

your fragile wings took to the air

and left us to stare at the empty spot

where you left an opening to read your thoughts

of which in ache you confide

the transformation cocoon you left behind

and your poetry screams out in pain

and now in anger I stand and yell at you.

Damn you!

Damn you

gentle butterfly.

Christ, pills scattered across the table top.

A woman drowning reaching for the surface.

Your video of  your daughters left behind

in memory of some happy time.

And mentions abuse and being left and leaving.

It all leaps across the electronic page

stumbles drunkenly across the stage

rushes headlong towards and ending I know not when and

of life and touches deeply hearts you don’t even know.

Do you not even care about the damage you’ve left in your wake?

But the final deed of selfish intent upon us you now bestow

you say

good by

and

good night

as  though going out for a walk

and leave us here now with our fright for thee

as the shadows lengthen and the trace of you is growing thin

as we unite and fight and pray for you

but we don’t know your name

butterfly.

Is this to be the last bit of fame?

Is this the end of your flickering flame?

Is this where ends your last song of another’s shame

that left you battered, bruised, too weak to give out your name?

Am I to be your helpless pall bearer?

Am I and the others simple pawns in the fight against death?

Yes, and my anger grows hot at this error

you’ve placed so many of us in bewildered terror

you wish to somehow drop without any shame

yet you stand and cry out in pain

and sweep us up along with you

and I don’t——damn you——damn us

I don’t even know your name.

Is our fight, our battle is it in vain?

Can nothing stop your onward rush

to meet death with out a blush

without a hush

without a——

Oh God,

oh, butterfly

I don’t even know your name.

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Tattoed Wishes

Tattooed Wishes
2/4/2011
Copy Write 2011 by Gordon Kuhn
INTRO NOTE:
You will understand this event
I’m sure.
While driving around looking for a parking spot,
bushes blocking the view,
slowed to make sure the way was clear
another car slid into view
and
stopped.
And so I held my spot
‘till he then slid on past
but the shock of being startled spread across and on my face
led him to believe he could rooster walk
across my bow while I waited to drive into a space
that he now walked past and blocked
and all the while I wanted to kill the son-of-of-bitch
and the feeling went from bad to worse
when another driver took the spot I’d waited for
while he continued to give the look of threat
and I just wanted to smash his fucking face.
Me, angry?
Oh no, not me.

TATTOO WISHES:
So, our cars almost collided.
You dumb bastard driving there
beneath stars and a growing dark
there, while for safety slowing,
we in the busy parking lot.
You were going West
and I was going South.
I was aimed at a parking space
and you were searching too.
We had plenty of choices
so the problem was the view
that blocked us from seeing the other
which was the mother of the trouble
and the beginning of the problem stew.
as our noses both were spotted
by the other when the allotted
space between we two grew smaller
and in irritation you then took the lead
to pass before and park your stinking car
while I sat in escalating await
and in troubled contemplation
and wondered what next to do.
Then, oh then, you hopped out from your car
and stared at me with such a haughty daring look
which was book to that which challenge said
and God I wanted to smash your fucking head
‘til you be found listless and nearly dead
but for the wife, yes, the wife saved your life
you impudent son-of-a bitch
who walked with such a swagger
across in front of me
and dagger eyes placed them upon me
as if to say, “come on, you ain’t so tough”
ah, Christ, the promised land I dearly wished I could have led
you to and dropped you off in front of Jesus
whom I sure would have understood I just had to
answer that haughty swagger look
and close both your eyes
with fisted tattooed black and blue
but for the wife, my wife, I would have had my due with you
and fist tattooed a nice black and blue.

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Wakened by a Scream

1/13/2011

Gordon Kuhn

Copy Write 2011 by Gordon Kuhn

I was wakened by a sudden scream,

the sound exploded in the darkest hours

engulfed and filled the silent room

silent lit by a full and shining blood-red moon.

I was jerked out,

tumbled out,

forced from a pleasant dream,

to lay in a tormented bed,

in wide eyed surprise,

affright from toe to head,

trying my best how to surmise,

what lay next in life,

did in concealment lie.

In fear then was led.

in silent memory anguish fed,

guilt for sins unleashed to tread

upon issues long thought dead.

Not breathing,

afraid to move.

afraid to live,

afraid to die,

my mind was seething,

afraid the world was passing by,

and no mark upon it had I made,

as if in life,

I had not ever been or stayed.

And listened to my heart,

beating beneath the sheets,

and knew there was,

——no one there,

that I was all alone,

just me,

just me with the moon,

a giant blood-red moon,

silent peeking in the room

the very silent lonely room,

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HOW CAME THIS FEELING

12/25/2010

Copy Write © 2010 Gordon Kuhn

How came this feeling of being——alone

set apart from others who seem to easily, openly share

round about me, as I inwardly feel the cool of stone

my timing is so awkward in attempts to find a way to share

and my voice comes to me as though in an emotionless drone

while others seem to shine and with each word spoken there

match the others in easy developed vocal tone

but I feel and fear it is not the same with me

nor ever was, or ever should, or could ever be

but, even still, the feeling lasts that in someway I am——alone.

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Evening comes and in so doing in growing darkness compresses time just a bit and so we in good company choose to sit and reminisce and think of blessings received and drift in thoughts of loved ones who are not so near.

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