Geetanjalee – RKA’s blog

This is a beautiful blog! The author’s name I believe is Rexie. I suggest to everyone following me that you should go an look. I think you will be impressed. I was, and I’m now following her.

Cynthia Baker – Simple Pleasures

I am unsure of why she closed her blog. She sent out a message to her over 6,000 followers that she was posting her last blog. Nothing else was written. She simply wrote that it was her last blog. In any case, I have closed the link to her site as there is just that last blog item. There is no explanation for her actions. I believe there were 72 responses, all saddened by her decision.


I came across an intiguing blog: Serendipity at The writer produces intense prose and is well worth your visit. In any case, I am now following her. and suggest that you might wish to consider doing so as well.


Copyright 2013 Gordon Kuhn
All rights reserved.

What chill this feeling alone came?
A ghostly touch to prick the skin!
On an evening birthed by morning’s flare
On a sunrise breaking hard
Was then lost to itself
Lost to itself over distant hills
Where waves crashed upon a shore and
Through an abandonment of memories trees
Whose bodies like skeletons stand and stood
With dry branches, leafless, rooted-wood
Their gnarled and thirsty feet
Dug deep into the soil and
A patch of rock t’was thereby soon met
There they silent, rigid stand and sightless stare
The hoary wooded field
Asleep upon the land
In a private wooded stand
Beneath an evening birthed by morning’s flare
On a sunrise breaking hard
And I, feeling so much as being lame
Could not contain the wanders’ thought
A wish that time could standstill upon a dare
And pull me back to a place I wished for sought
Where I ought to have never left
One wrought with the stain of blood
On hands thought too young to past the test
Or to be blest in some manner sought, and yet
The wanders through my mind
Are best left there in silent design
For to know what or where they lead
Or in past times could have ever led
Can leave me empty and not inline
With others wishes that I have come to find
Upon my life and liberty they do feed
And the chill has found a place of need
This chill feeling that alone nameless came
On an evening birthed in morning’s flare
On a sunrise breaking hard
And there the wanders can and could wander fair
In sight of a sleeping, weeping, ancient wood.

Midnight Rain

Midnight Rain
Copyright 2013 Gordon Kuhn
All rights reserved.

I’m standing outside in a midnight rain
Where no one can see me
Surrounded by a darkness most intense
No one can see me buckle from the pain.
As cold rain, an old rain mixes with
What few tears can be shed
What few tears can be bled
As the cold rain, old rain
Mixes with the salt of tears
And bathes me in chilling water
While searching out the host of fears
And no one can see me
No one can see me there
Crouched down, naked, breathing out a steam
To standing alone in a cold, old rain
Bathed in chilling water
From ancient wells come forth.
And no one is looking there
No one hears the blessing said
Over the ritual knife to be fed
And drenched in chilling waters
Where I stand alone in a midnight rain. November 11, 2013