Standoff is a book of poetry and short stories. I will be placing posts here as I go. It is published and available at Amazon. You can also buy it directly from me by visiting one of my websites. Questions? I’ll be happy to answer them. Oh, if you buy it from me it is autographed by me to you personally. What a fantastic deal. No extra charge.
STANDOFF
A book of poetry, short stories, and insanity.
By Gordon Kuhn
With one exception[1], this is a work of fiction. The characters and events described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or to living persons alive or dead.
No part of this publication can be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical method without the prior written permission of the publisher except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn, All Rights Reserved
ISBN-13: 978-1724853844
ISBN-10: 1724853848
Published in the United States by Poet in the Rain
PHOTO CREDITS
Cover: Photographer Mr. Derek Stillwagon: A Mother and Her Son by permission Allison Hart
Dedication Photo of Chuck Van Durme by Unknown Soldier
Illustration on Page 2 of Mother and Child from Istock Photo
Helicopter in Flight on Page 51: Charles Van Durme
Charles
Van Durme in D.C. Page 56: Ms. Brandy Van Durme
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
Predator Book One “Do You Know How to Fly?”
The Pelman Murders
The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems
Rabbit in a Box
DEDICATION
Dedicated to a personal friend who passed away June 15, 2015. In this book is his story of a night when his helicopter was shot down.
Charles “Chuck” Van Durme
Oct 20, 1950 to June 15, 2015
Two tours in Vietnam. He was awarded the Bronze Star, the Army Commendation Medal with a V, 16 Air Medals, and a Purple Heart.
Too soon the story of his life was taken from us. But we are left with memories of a man that we called a friend.
His story can be found on page 48.
Contents
There Were Clouds, Weren’t There?. 4
Nightfall, the Lovers’ Dance. 9
Crushed Cigarettes Left on the Floor. 10
It’s Four O’clock in the Morning. 13
Walking with a Dead Butterfly. 14
The Tree Across the Street. 20
The Never Meeting of Lovers. 24
A Long Time Ago in the Great Faraway. 25
Paper Kites Flying in the Rain. 34
Shot Down in Laos: A true story of death and survival. 48
POETRY
A War Had Broken Out
“Allison’s Poem”
A war had broken out between them
More a skirmish than a war, I suppose
Between a mother and her precious precocious son
Not with weapons, not with bombs, not with guns
But with thought
It was a standoff of sorts
Eye to eye, silence ruled
And the boy who thought he would surely win
Soon realized the ice beneath was very thin
He on his side of the table,
Sitting tall in his seat
Fingers resting on the round top
French fries on a plate before him
Or were they tater tots?
A drink beside, he was good to go
But his eyes showed surprise therein
For he had someway crossed his mother just then
Who sat across from him, hands resting on her chin
as she quietly considered the facts
—and him
Her precious precocious son
She was serious, the eyes told all
The son wondered if this war would be fun
And believed he would surely be the one who won
But it all fell into place with just a silent look
The kind that freezes a lad from his toes to the sun
She was right, but he was all in for fun
At least he thought so!
Mom would surely understand, he mistakenly believed
But she was serious minded and not in the mood for games
He foolishly felt he had the right to make a run
To see just how far he could push it
Like we all in life have done at least once
With our mothers there across the table from us
A dangerous place if she could just out and reach
And pop you on the chin
But not all moms are like that today
Sometimes it is just in a certain way
That gets the point across that it is not play
While oddly thinking such was so
And then came the look you see
The look mother’s give their sons, at times
And the room sudden turns quiet and a chill is in the air
It’s that teetering point we all have faced
The edge of the cliff, if we wisely sensed
When a certain line is crossed and the fun is sudden done
For a mother’s precious and precocious son.
Imaginary Horses
I hear the pawing of their hooves
Their breathing in and out of the cold night air
As they stand close beside me in the dark
But are in hiding to my sight.
Even though I wish with all my might
That I could somehow in the dark each one see,
My imaginary horses that come at night;
And I wish I could touch their manes
And that they would remain into the coming light.
But they are there in the night when I need them to be;
And even though I cannot see them I know they are there,
Standing close beside me in the dark,
In the cold and deadly dark,
Gently pawing with their hooves,
Gently breathing in and out the surrounding night air
Their breath floats over and warms me
My imaginary horses that come and are real to me
With their breath moving in and out in the cold night air
And the soft pawing of their hooves tells me they are there
Standing near in the dark, standing near in the cold night air
My imaginary horses that I cannot see
But I know they are there
My imaginary horses
Pawing
Breathing
in the cold and deadly dark.
There Were Clouds, Weren’t There?
There were clouds, I think, as a child
Weren’t there?
I recall skies and rain.
I recall thunder and lightning
I remember the smell of coming storms.
And the thud of big drops striking the ground all around
As I ran as a child seeking shelter
But I don’t recall clouds, do you?
Once a Boy
There once was a boy who lived on a boat
The boy was small and the boat was not
Upon a sea of strange waters sailed the two
The boy and the boat until one day the boy forgot
That
the boat would float and he would not
THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN 
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