THE GIRL WHO LIVED BEHIND


I wrote this poem in January of 2010. It is about a woman I knew who sadly took her life. She was a kind and wonderful person who was a victim of depression and who will always live in my heart. It is one of the poems that can be found in The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems which can be found on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kindle and several other places.

The Girl Who Lived Behind

Copyright 2010 by Gordon Kuhn

 

 

The quiet girl who lived behind

most surely, slowly lost her mind

for cursed she was in her mother’s womb

she now sleeps, lays lonely in her tomb

 

Her spirit un-trapped from flesh and bone

by knife’s edge she worked to hone

and laid her down in water warm

her thoughts now resting from their desperate swarm

 

The cut was quick, the blade was swift

and she began in slight pain to drift

and dreamt of days that might have been

were it not her curse from some unknown sin

 

That left her born an unpleasant sight

though she wished with all her might

for one dance at her high school prom

for one date with a boy named Tom

 

The dog she loved had been recent put away

and now she had not any need to stay

So alone she laid within her bath

and as the world slipped she gave a laugh

 

At an empty thought, the joke of life

for which for her had been but strife

she came, years later, stood next to me

two men, not known, spoke that she was now free

 

The shackles, bondage had slipped away

as life had drained she could not stay

but came years later wanting me to know

that she had simply had to go

 

And had wept that faultless night

her eyes burning in clouded sight

and stood before a bathroom mirror

and cursed her life, deaths choice the clearer.

 

The door had closed, I simply had to go

not knowing what to say, the tears did flow

an offer made by she for me to stay

but I had to leave to go my way

 

Disturbed I found her birthright curse

not grown enough myself to nurse

the lost and lonely bare laid feeling there

the hungry haunting sadly painful stare

 

And I in shame did in wild confusion slink away

while she said  welcome, come please stay

stay this night and warm my bed

or else a broken heart shall leave me dead

 

A friend is all I need, nothing else

a friend is all I want, nothing else

Years passed and she sudden came

not to cast any shame or blame

 

Simply to say she’d passed and gone her way

But now her presence comes unexpected this day

Not to haunt and not to play

But just to say she could not stay.                                        01/12/2010

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MR. FERGUSON WENT AWAY


MR. FERGUSON WENT AWAY.

Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain Productions

Fireworks burst and scared the dog

Whose leash was not enough to stay him.

So into the night he ran for his life

for all about seemed such mayhem.

The neighbors then mounted up a search

that lasted till near the coming dawn,

up and down the streets with flashlights they came

past gator ponds and over many a sprinkler kissed lawn.

Searching! Ghost-like the owner came and went

down center-lines she walked the night;

her voice in trailing sobs as she called his name

echoing out in horrible pain, but he never came into sight.

And the cries stayed warm and fresh

as the search went on past morning light

for a tiny dog, a pocket dog, a lost dog,

one feared would not return to his owner’s sight.

A day passed … then two, then three

four and five the calendar fell away,

then the dog with leash from two miles out

to its owner’s sight came home to stay.                                                                      July 17, 2012

THINKING


I’ve been silent a bit for certain reasons, which cause me confusion. I have been writing as much as I always do, but feel constrained what with contests and awards and worry about theft of my writing. The joy of sharing is diminished greatly because of all that. I don’t know who to approach about it or even how to ask for advice. It simply is an issue that limits me in what I love to do. As a poet I’ve run across many outlets who will only look at your poetry if you’ve never published any poetry … and I mean “any” poetry. So, I guess because I’ve published then that places me in that category, and I cannot put anything with them. Then there are regional and age and sex issues, which must be confronted. Being a poet is not simply being a writer. No!

National Suicide


Was our country, America, so fundamentally messed up before Obama that we have to trash the Constitution and allow a man, one man, to fundamentally change not only our political culture but our economic culture? It is the only system in the history of mankind that has worked  and yet people want to allow this man to destroy it. Why? Have we gone insane? People, we have millions who have come to this country to live, to raise their children here, to reach up and grab opportunities that do not and have not existed anyplace else in the world at any time and you want to change it? Why?

You tell me the Constitution of the United States is out dated? You tell me the Constitution of S. Africa is better? Are you nuts?

Obama Care: 21 new taxes. Did you know that? Pelosi, “Well, we must vote the bill in and then we can find out what’s in it.”  It is not a box to be opened like on Christmas. To say they didn’t know what was in the bill and they had to vote on it to find out what was in it is lunacy. They just found it on the doorstep, I guess. Isn’t that where all the bills are found. Somehow they just showed up there. Nobody knows what is in them. They have to vote to make them  laws and then we find out what is in the law because no one knew before. This is the garbage coming out of Congress under the democrats. Change? Vote the bastard in again and you will see massive governmental changes, massive governmental debt, and you will be under a tyranny like has never been before and America will be no more. The light that has beckoned and continues to call others to us will be no more. It is national suicide to vote Obama in again.

http://resistance.ning.com/video/mark-levin-it-s-national-suicide

SPAGHETTI DINNERS


SPAGHETTI DINNERS

Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain

 I found you there early this morning

when I rose sleepy like from my bed,

with fog and cobwebs all fillin’ my head.

There you were in a summer dress

dancin’ dainty like … across the flowers of my mind.

I must absolutely ashamedly confess

You snuck up when I wasn’t looking.

Oh … so softly you took my hand and led

and took up so short of time to up for me remind

of those other times and filled me with wishes

for late night spaghetti dinners

and large glasses of red colored wine.

You passed your way through the meadows

where you said you were just mine.

Led me softly down the oak shaded lane

and there you handed me rose colored petals

just like you did in another lifetime

so many years ago

But then … then there was the pain.                                                                                      7.2.12