The Rain Came Early Video

Trying to upload the following video.

Gordon Kuhn
Author of The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems

In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take, the relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make.



Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain Productions

The rain came early this mornin’.

It came right down the middle of the street.

No one ever saw it comin’, not a one, ‘cept me,

and sure t’was ‘cause they was all asleep.

When the rain came early here this morning’,

it was hard at first even for me to see.

It came rainin’ most early today.

I know I didn’t see it comin’ my way.

I didn’t even have time for a cup of fresh boiled coffee,

Nor scrambled eggs, nor brittle cooked bacon

before I most had to scurry out of the way,

as it sudden arrived just like popped up toast

would that jumped up high and landed on the table

sendin’ the fork and the spoon to flyin across the room.

I was most suprised you might could say

For I didn’t see it comin’ my way.

No, I didn’t ever see it comin’ my way.

Not my way, no way.

I admit I like my toast with a coat of butter,

but the butter was most cold this mornin’.

It wouldn’t spread out neither thick nor thin,

just a hard clump of cold damn butter.

Yeah, the rain came early here this mornin’.

It came for me without no real warnin’.

Caught me naked in the middle of the street,

Must have been walkin’ in the middle of my sleep.

The rain came early here this mornin’.

With no coffee, no toast and no damn soft butter,

I was caught standing sleeping in the middle of the street;

Even though the weatherman the night before had issued a warnin’

They said some clouds was likely formin’.

Out east I think he said, or was it to the west?

You can tell I was really payin’ attention.

For I surely took no mind of the warnin’.

So life for me just raised the bar this mornin’,

caught me even before I’d know’d I’d been caught

before my eggs, hot coffee,  and my buttered toast was warmin’

my insides as it caught me naked in the middle of the damn street

It surely did, naked without a warnin’.

Yes sir, the rain came early here this mornin’.

I’ve No Need To Go Away


Copyright 2012 Gordon L Kuhn

Poet in the Rain Productions

Some folks say I should not stay,

but up my tired ass and go my weary way.

Pack my bag (just the one) and go somewhere

no one knows me at all, on a dare.

But I’m tired and in my weary way

I’ve no room for new games to play;

and if I chose to up and run away

nothin’ would buy my win, I would say.

So instead I’ll just stay awhile and share

my life with those surrounding me who care.

I’ll stay quiet and watch the world spin past every day.

For I know I’m loved here in everyway

by those who accept me in just my simple, silly way

of being just who I am each and every day.

So that’s my plan, if you need to know today.

I’m stayin’ right here as I’ve no need to go away.                                                    6/27/2012

Sitting Alone in the Dark


Copyright 2012

All rights reserved by Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain Productions

April 2, 2012 0459


Morning slips in on me,

As I sit here in the dark.

The dogs are sleeping.

My wife lies dreaming.

And I’m alone here in the dark.

Just a crazy old me!

Sittin’ alone in the dark.


Wondering about wonders,

Some I’ve seen.

Some I never will.

But I still feel the thrill

of the wind and rain upon my face,

of cold wet running down my neck,

remembering while sittin’ alone in the dark.


Alone with a thousand memories swarmin’,

some are cold and some are warmin’,

as the light breaks to the east.

Yes, another day is comin’!

A fine day, yes … a fine day is comin’.

It’s all fine by me.

What do I have to say?

‘Cause I’m sittin’ here alone in the dark.

just sittin’ alone here in the dark.


The night and the day go passing by me,

as they circle wide the world,

wide the world, yeah, wide the world they do;

just a runnin’ to catch the other up

in a never ending game of keep up.

And I’m sitting alone in the dark.

Just myself alone in the dark.

And I don’t really give a damn about nothin’ ‘cause

I’m sittin’ alone here in the dark,

alone here in the dark.


While somewhere I hear a piano plays

softly, slowly, keys lightly, lovingly pressed;

welcome … coming light breaks through grey,

the deep and dreary grey to the east.

The dogs shift and curl up tighter in their sleep.

My wife shifts and smiles in her dreams,

while I’m sittin’ here alone in the dark,

don’t ya know, I’m just sittin’ here alone in the dark.               4/2/12  – Revised 6/26/12




Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain Productions.



I live in a land of shadowed mists

Occupancies that float and twist

Apparitions that turn, conceal and drift

Whose lives appear but do not truly exist

That blend and blur and do resist

And I dissolve within the mists.                                                        June 22, 2012


My first book of poetry can be found on Kindle, Nook, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and variety of other place. Here’s hoping you will buy one!

These are poems about life.

I write about the agony of writing. I speak to relationships, friends, enemies, those simply passed on the street.

I’m not a frilly guy. I write from the gut and the heart.

I guarantee you won’t be bored. SO, be the first on your block to own a copy. Then write a review on Amazon for me. I need reviews. I need to sell books…LOL. SO, go, buy the book. NOW!


 This poem comes from my upcoming book RABBIT IN A BOX. I’ve presented it here and on Face Book previously I think. Anyway, many poems in my mind this morning. Thinking of breaking them out in categories and writing individual books based on the category. Anyway, melancholy morning and have several started but best I not post just yet. This one I like a lot and am happy to share with you. I hope you like it as well.


Copyright  2012 Gordon Kuhn

White ponies,

Painted against the blue,

Hooves lost in fading mists,

Who knew that ponies flew?


Dashing, prancing

Against a pale hue

Manes twisting, misting

Who knew that ponies flew?


White ponies

Against the blue

Hooves lost in fading mists.

I knew that ponies flew!




Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn

Poet In The Rain Productions

T’was Mrs. Higgins’ cat we all soon came to fear,

as the damn cat in hunger boldly grew closely very near

to anyone wandering loose about outside without a stick

to whack that furry devil beast with a good two handed flick.

Instead we pretended to not notice it upon each other happily chewing

while seated chatting with cookies as a pot of tea was brewing.

Someone said, finally and unashamedly, bring in the hound!

And so we trotted off to the local humane animal holding pound

to fetch back Rollie Rottenstien, a Rotweiler of some repute

whose winning streak in battles or puppies born no one would ever dispute

to face off old dead Mrs. Higgens’ cat, the terror of the day,

for the grand old puss was determined that she would not go but stay;

and the damn cat with glaring, daring eyes took daily total command

of all yards, drives, lakes, every acre and inch of all the land;

while we the neighbors of quite dead Mrs. Higgins were caught up in a fear,

afraid we’d likely lose a piece of flesh to the one who had been so dear

to the old lady now laying six feet down within her grave.

Too bad we hadn’t thought how many ankles might we could save

should we had stuffed old Mrs. Higgins’ cat in with her in her lonely grave.

I’m not saying I was at all a mean and evil man

but damn we surely could have come up with a prior plan.

Yet Rollie Rottenstein we thought might well prove to be the savior of the day

and should that be the case I was sure he’d gain favor and be able to forever freely stay.

Add perhaps a snip or two would make him easier in his future play,

but not before he met up with Mrs. Higgins cat that very summer’s day.

Sure t’was a grand sight we seen with that dog standing in the street,

Standin’ straddle in the middle just waiting for the meet.

And when he saw Mrs. Higgins’ cat a grin spread across his firmly set chin

for he was hungry, you see, and his ribs were showing through the thin.

Well that dog planted his feet solid upon the earth, he did,

And we sensed a can of hell was about to lose its bulging lid.

Then came from Rollie a mighty growl deep from within

that brought goose bumps to all our sweaty nervous exposed skin

as the distance sudden lessened between the two

from walking to a trot as old Rollie simply flew,

for there waiting before him stood a potential tasty chew;

and no one or thing before had ever slowed or stopped our Rollie,

and no one present called our life’s mission a wasted follie.

The dog, he set off in a trot for what he was sure would be a tasty treat;

and we waited most anxiously for the pair to up and meet.

Oh, how I recall that day when the world sudden shook

for Mrs. Higgins’ cat had read the dog as though he were a book.

The pair disappeared into a cloud of dust that filled the surrounding air

making it impossible to call the fight as we could not make out the struggling pair.

A minute passed and then five were gone and still the struggle went on and on

the afternoon passed into evening and then night turned into dawn

Until all hisses, growls and barks had settled

For this pair were of certain like kind and not at all un-mettled.

Then with weary expectant eyes to the clouded scene we were then drawn

as the sun its rays crept in as night was turned slowly into dawn;

and as the dust settled so that we could begin to see

what it was that the day held and the pair had come to be.

Then t’was a sudden shock that ran through the waiting crowd

a gasp surprised  went up that was most terrible sad and loud;

for Mrs. Higgens’ cat came strolling slowly into view

and looking around at all who waited let out a gentle mew

while standing firm upon that dusty dirty roadway deck

with Rollie Rottenstein standing just behind with a leash about his neck.               6.10.2012

Mrs. Higgens’ Cat.

Think good enough for a second run while I’m catching my breath.


Copyright 2012 Gordon L Kuhn

Poet in the Rain Productions

April 19, 2012

Sure t’was skinny Mrs. Higgins’ cat that wandered about while we thought the lady napped.

Or so thought the town’s people of she and they shooed and they clapped

To keep Mrs. Higgins’ hungry pussy safely from out of harm’s way.

But the damn cat would not leave and chose sullenly to stay.

It’s thick tail waggin’, eyes growing dark, and in sideways fashion began to stalk

Anyone brave enough to venture out for a breath of air on a daily walk,

Or to mindless stand at open gates to simple spend time in gossip talk.

While the cat upon the occasional bare laid ankle did most joyfully sink its teeth.

And broad skirted maids would sudden shriek and find the cat hiding there beneath.

Yet, how simple t’was the answer was for we should have known that day,

As newspapers had piled up on Mrs. Higgins’ doorstep and closed door and doorway;

And they seemed in permanence that they would turn moldy and never go away.

That also was the growing fact that the cat had no chosen anyplace else for it to go?

For indeed it had no place else for its furry self to stow.

And how were we, mindless, that week gone past to simply know,

That Mrs. Higgins had gone and left this earthly plane and failed to feed her cat?

So, the hungry puss of a cat had done ate up all Mr. Higgins bone and fat.

And, as for poor old scrawny Mrs. Higgins, that simply was the end of that.



Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain Productions


I got my radio tuned to the Blues!

Uh huh, listenin’ to some smoky, hot Blues.

Hot blues, mama! Hot Blues! Pokey, hot Blues.

Blues playin’ in the mornin’, you lovely woman

with rain fallin’ outside, and more is comin’.

Guitars singing as they are bein’ strummin,’

strummin’ and my heart, my heart be drummin’.

My feet are movin’ to the beat!

So sit yourself down and take a seat.

And please know I got no time for no melodrama.

So don’t be angry with me mama, don’t be angry mama

an’ don’t be lookin’ at me so blankly

no, don’t be angry with me

‘cause you can always be set free.

You got no hold, no mama, no hold on me!

While I’m sittin’ an’ listenin’ to some smoky-hot blues

hot, smoky blues in the mornin’.

That’s what I say

on this rainy, raining, bluesy day.

Mmm hmm, an’ please be knowin’, please  be knowin’

I don’t own no dancin’ shoes

for no slow dance can I do to the Blues.

Suppose I could try if I should so choose.

But I got my radio tuned to the Blues.

Stormin’ outside is what’s in the news.

Stormin’ inside, but not drinkin’ no booze.

Drank it all,

bottle’s empty and got no money

no more money to buy some more liquid honey.

Rain comin’ down in buckets cloud-filled

To the brim, wet and chilled,

To the brim now, yes, wet and chilled

Worry’s I got and am not thrilled

By prospects I’ve been told

With answers for I’m not sold

There’s smoke on the horizon!

Smoke amidst the weatherizin’

Someone said there’s a fire burnin’ in the distance

All the while I be happily singin’ with inconsistence

While I’m listenin’ to the Blues

Those smoky, pokey, mellow old Blues

And I’m listenin’ to the Blues

And watchin’ the smoke curling up on the horizon.