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.
SHE HAD FAME
No one knew her name
This simple woman who walked alone
In the rain and sun, she walked alone
On Sarasota’s streets, she walked alone
And no one knew her name
She walked in light and in the dark
She walked in sun and in the rain
But one knew her name, but she had fame
As she walked barefoot and alone
She had local fame as she walked alone
This woman who had no name
In a dress that was a hand-down
From a local church charity store
Where they didn’t know her name
In the rain and sun on Sarasota’s streets
She walked until death closed her eyes
One night when the rain fell along her way
And the wind drove others off the streets
She was there when death claimed no name
And no one was there as she fell on her path
And there she lay until the break of day
This woman without a name
But death came, found her with its cold hand
A wet bundle in the rain found with a cold hand
And claimed her without knowing her name
This woman who walked alone without a name.
NIGHTFALL, THE LOVERS’ DANCE
I recall the night when the rain came
And settled in bringing a coolness to the room
Where two lovers met and never were the same
In an apartment in downtown Sarasota
Where they danced to a scratchy record on a player
While drinking stale beer in a dim light
From the only bulb left working
And somewhere in the world a wall was being torn down
Somewhere a child was being born
Water dripping from pipes to the foundation two floors below
Somehow they found each other and in a simple embrace
Shared the last cigarette in a crushed pack tossed to the floor
While singing a song neither knew.
© 2018 Poet in the Rain: Gordon Kuhn
The Never Meeting of Lovers
I never met you in the past
I’ll not meet you in the future
I won’t meet you today
Such is life; such is the nature of our souls
But we can sing together
We can sing about our love
If we ever meet and should casually hold hands
While remembering that we had one day met
And hope the memory of meeting one day in the future
Will forever last in song, one written by you and me
Written in the wonder of meeting
As you in my bed would be offered a gentle greeting
While the world outside our door will swing and sway
To the sound of our song written just today
And I’ll sing a song I wrote just for you
While we dance our way into the memory of today
As your holding my hand in yours will surely nurture
My desire for closeness and kisses that will forever in memory stay
And we can sing together of a sweet and gentle love
I never met you in the past
I’ll not meet you in the future
We’ll not meet today
But how can I ever forget you or this song
Somehow we’ll go on as I alone will stay
In my memory of you in our fleet meeting
Such is life; such is the nature of our souls.
Copyright 5.17.18 Gordon Kuhn, All rights
Retouch: I Recall.
It’s two o’clock in the morning
And I recall her lying nearby me
In the dark sweating there from our lovemaking
We came together in the long ago
Two lonely bar drunk new best friends
In a town so very far from here
It’s two o’clock in the morning
And I can smell her hair even now with its light perfume
As it was crushed up by my face
Curls so wet, soft and fragrant in the nighttime air
As she drew close in the dim light from a street light
At the corner where rain spattered on the cracked concrete
By the post near the ruts in the road
And the trash lying in the gutter nearby
A soft contented purr coming from deep within her
And we laid there sweating in the dark
Not knowing each other and yet in some way we did
Someway we were kin from mothers never met
Aglow from lovemaking in the middle of the night
And outside we could hear the cars on the rain-swept street
There was no air conditioning in that apartment
One bedroom, a kitchen, and old couch in the front room
And we never knew what we’d find in the hall in the morning
When we opened the door to the world
And we’d step over some drunk lost on his way home
But it’s just two o’clock in the morning
And we hear the stumbling, cursing coming from down the hall
As someone tries a key in the wrong door and then noisily slips to the floor
Too drunk to walk further and sleep claims another lost soul
And I recall the sweetness of her lying nearby
In the dark sweating and so tired we were wrapped together
Exhausted from our lovemaking with only the moon looking on
Peaking in from the window with the cracked glass and weathered frame
And the floor near the bed beneath the open window was wet from the rain
And the moon shining into the room at 2 o’clock in the morning
Was the only witness to our love as we lay there together in the moonlit dark
Too tired to talk, too tired to sleep, and out of beer
A crushed cigarette pack lying in the corner near an empty can
But I recall how we loved that night
And then parted as friends
Each going our separate ways
But I recall that night — I wonder, does she? — Wherever she is?
Does she ever recall at two o’clock in the morning how we loved
How we loved thru that thunder and lightning packed summer storm
And we laid in our passion covered with sweat and out of beer gone hot
As the refrigerator in that apartment didn’t work
But it didn’t matter, not in the passion we shared
And the beer was gone and the cigarette pack was empty on the floor
Bed sheets pulled free and lying in a heap about us
Our bodies naked and gleaming with the wet of love making
In the moonlit dark of night with a street light shining lightly in
Does she recall?
It was two o’clock in the morning and I loved her
Whoever she was — sadly I don’t recall her name.
Copyright Gordon Kuhn
It’s two o’clock in the morning
And I recall you lying nearby me
In the dark sweating there from lovemaking
In the long ago in a town far from here
It’s two o’clock in the morning
And I can smell your hair
As it was crushed up by my face
And we laid there sweating in the dark
Aglow from lovemaking in the middle of the night
And outside we could hear the cars on the rain-swept street
There was no air conditioning in that apartment
One bedroom, a kitchen, and old couch in the front room
And we never knew what we’d find in the hall in the morning
When we opened the door to the world
And we’d step over some drunk lost on his way home
It’s two o’clock in the morning
And I recall the sweetness of you lying nearby
In the dark sweating and so tired wrapped together
Exhausted from our lovemaking with only the moon looking on
And the floor near the bed beneath the open window was wet from the rain
And the moon shining into the room at 2 o’clock in the morning
Was the only witness to our love as we lay there together in the dark
Too tired to talk, too tired to sleep, and out of beer
But I recall how we loved that night and then parted
As friends and each went separate ways
But I recall that night — do you?
Do you recall at two o’clock in the morning how we loved
How we loved thru the summer storm
And we laid in our passion covered with sweat and out of beer
Do you recall?
It was two o’clock in the morning and I loved you.
Copyright Gordon Kuhn 2018
Rehearsing
Another morning has come to greet the sun
Chasing the night away as coffee brews on the stove
A cup with spoon to swirl the cream in to blend the clouds away
As I sit and think of questions that I cannot even form
I wonder about the woman down the street who lives alone
In a home being foreclosed on even as the year has come full circle
Her son is college stuff and flunking out as he goes to class
Neighborhood children run barefoot laughing as they pass
At my comment of concern for nails and rocks and wiggly worms while
The Church of the Holy Hypodermic will ring its chimes
At dawn, lunch, and dinner time, a mile away as I listen and decide
That the ringing bells are as lonely in their song
As is the old man in the darkened corner house
Alone, staring at a wall, waiting in silence for his time to die. 2/18/2015
In the Dark Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn, all rights reserved
Like a dog in heat he was single minded in his searching
While he roamed the empty spaces nearby ocean waves that crashed upon the shore
The sea fog coated the land and hid him from the safety nearby
Weakly hunting a place to lay his pain racked head
The cheap wine had gotten to his mind and left him stunned and all for dead
Lying in the dark on a rotted floor of an old shack he found by the ocean’s side
Before he fell into a cruel and empty sleep
Enlightenment curled up around him like a coating of smoke
From a fire burning deep within his soul
While others unseen around him in shadows kept hidden
They also slept the deep and troubled sleep, in open air, hiding from the sun
In a cave of despair they all slept where no one can see within memories thin veil.
Walking with a Dead Butterfly
Come fly away now gentle butterfly
Open your wings and capture a breath of wind
Set sail and say goodbye to the world below
Let not your heart in pain deny
Your right to sail the summer sky
For you are special, my valiant friend
You’ve come so far in life in so few days
And changed your coat of moldy gray
To joyfully spread rainbow colors in patterns rich
While sharing your beauty in wild, tumultuous flight
So short your life has come and gone
Come dance with me as I watch you twist and spin
Until your energy has been spent and you start to fail and fall
As you struggle with the pending doorway of death
No matter where you could have landed in the end
You somehow fell to earth beside the path
That I was silently walking there upon.
THE DRUNK ON THE CORNER IS
Copyright 4.15.18 by Gordon Kuhn all rights reserved.
The holy drunk on the corner is
As holy as the Pope who drinks wine
And who represents a group with a history of crime
That turned its back on the Jews and friended Hitler
The holy drunk on the corner is
As holy as the holy father in his lofty mansion
Protected by an armed security
And who is worshiped in life and will be in death
As the only voice of God here on this earth
Except for the drunk castaway lying at the corner
Who in his drunkenness is holier that the pope.
