Category: Love

• Where did the year go?

  Posted at 5:00 pm by Gordon, on December 23, 2018

  
  

  Another year moving into history. Seems strange. I am still in January.

  Well, for Jan and I it has been an up and down year with moving away and then moving back when we discovered that “friends” weren’t friends and that the VA doesn’t have the medical facilities in Georgia that we thought they had.

  So, here we are back in Florida with all of our friends and it is wonderful. The only sad thing is that my service dog Tread has a fungus in his hip and tail bone. No body knows how it got there and it is an expensive and long fight to save his life. We now have gone past $5,000 in expenses and have 5 months more of a fight to go. We do have wonderful help from our Vet and the Vets at the University of Georgia School of Veterinary Science. We are also fortunate in that we have medical insurance on him and that has reduced our cost significantly. BUT travel and motel rooms are not covered as is part of the medical. However, we are fortunate that we do have a lot covered and are very grateful for the folks at Healthy Paws.

  I have a newsletter at Constant Contact and if any of you wish to be a subscriber just send me you email to gkuhnwrites@aol.com

  In the meantime I am trying to find a literary agent for my true crime book: Nightmare in Terra Ceia.

  I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and I hope a wonderful New Year.

  Blessings! Gordon Kuhn

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  Posted in blogging., Crime, Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, Love, memories, narrative nonfiction, nonfiction, novels, Poetry, true crime, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Family, Fantasy, Fiction, Gordon Kuhn, Life, NARRATIVE NONFICTION, Poetry, Poets, Writing

• A Long Time Ago in the Great Faraway

  Posted at 7:10 am by Gordon, on September 5, 2018

  
  

  It was a long time ago in the great faraway
  When I came to the understanding that I could no longer stay
  We looked the other way as I stepped out from her front door
  Harsh words spoken, then silence, nothing left to say, so I guess we settled the score
  The tale had been said, actions set, and there was nothing more
  We turned away, not wanting our eyes to meet again on that terribly sad night
  When anger made us say things that later didn’t seem so right
  Emptiness then lay where once love for each other had been so tight
  But we said our all — then silence fell — and we knew there was nothing more
  So we looked the other way as I stepped out from her front door
  The porch light turned dark behind me as I walked alone in the rain
  To where my car sat, my anger melting — and then I began to feel the numbing pain
  The key in the ignition, the engine hesitated, coughed, stumbled, and then sudden died
  And I sat alone in the long faraway and in that sad silence, I softly cried. 9/1/18

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  Posted in blogging., Love, POET, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing | 2 Comments | Tagged blogging, Gordon Kuhn, Love, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing

• The Never Meeting of Lovers

  Posted at 11:09 am by Gordon, on May 17, 2018

  
  

  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

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  Posted in Love, memories, Poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged Poetry

• Retouch: I Recall at 2 AM

  Posted at 10:06 pm by Gordon, on May 15, 2018

  
  

  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

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  Posted in Love, Poetry | 1 Comment | Tagged Life, Poetry

• Clouds in your Eyes & Random Thoughts 0821/8.5.17

  Posted at 8:19 am by Gordon, on August 5, 2017

  
  

  Clouds in Your Eyes
  
  by Gordon Kuhn Copyright 8.5.17 all rights reserved

  I see clouds in your eyes, clouds in your eyes
  Clouds where none should ever be
  Like murky cream in your cold cup of coffee there
  I see clouds in your eyes, clouds in your eyes
  Clouds that should never be there
  And I think there is even a tear, a small tear hiding there
  There where none should also never be.

  It was just a chance thing meeting up with you
  Years back at a truck stop late one rainy night
  No reason for that to ever happen, never
  Unplanned event and unplanned conversation
  Unless fate was there with me and you
  For truly you showed up out of the blue
  And sat and told me lies while you drank coffee with me
  Just like we used to do, like we used to do
  And sat and told me lies while we drank cold coffee together
  Just like we used to do when we smiled at each other
  And nowhere did I think I’d ever again see that smile
  That smile that was also so quick and free.

  But I see clouds in your eyes, clouds there in your eyes
  The same as when a friend once set you free
  But that was a long time back to then
  When life had set us all in a tragic spin
  And you fell from a relationship that brought tears to your eyes
  And I hoped that none would ever again be there for anyone to see

  I know you are with another
  A friend who was once like a brother
  But no where in the world did I ever expect
  to have our friendship end in pure neglect

  But I see the clouds in your eyes
  Where none should ever be
  I see clouds in your eyes
  And I think I see a tear
  Where none should also never be
  In a truck stop so very long ago

  And I would have stood and hugged you long and hard
  But the distance between us more that I could reach past
  And so I just let it be with a handshake and a “I gotta go.”
  So I will go and let the past be the past and hope the feeling inside will last
  But there were clouds in your eyes, clouds in you eyes
  And a very tiny tear.

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  Posted in alcoholism, blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Humanity, Literary Arts, Love, memories, POET, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Depression, Gordon Kuhn, Life, Literature, Love, Poet, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing

• Posted at 5:30 am by Gordon, on January 7, 2017

  
  

  Lost

   

  She had blue eyes,

  Vulnerable, blue eyes

  And they held him in their grasp

  Gentleness  lived there so much he had to gasp

  And she never spoke; she never once spoke

  Yet her eyes could easily jokingly poke

  And raise the issue of man and woman

  As the world floated past the two who were human

  As they lay in a grassy field, in a soft and wavy grassy field

  Their hands from the sun wide-open eyes did shield

  And his protected hers so deep they were and so blue

  As they lay in peace and in love so true.

  She had blue eyes, deep, soft blue eyes

  Vulnerable blue eyes.

  Copyright 2/3/2015 Gordon Kuhn

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  Posted in blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Humanity, Literary Arts, Love, Poetry, unassigned, Uncategorized, Writing | 3 Comments | Tagged blogging, Life, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Writing Read On →

• Poem from Standoff: Bare

  Posted at 10:20 pm by Gordon, on December 14, 2016

  
  

  STANDOFF  is a book of poems that I will be publishing soon. This poem is one of them: BARE. I simply decided that I would post this one for the time being. I hold the copyright on this. 

  BARE

  Flesh laid back,

  Bare!

  Raw, no cover to protect

  From salt thrown upon there where the whip struck

  Beneath the layer thin and thick

  Atop with matted hair that hides

  Emotions deep run and amid course shall stall

  As the owner fails to know the path laid out

  Laid out, but not in common diagram of visual plane

  Leaving the direction needles spinning mindless there

  Nor can one tell or master the storms drifting path

  Should path be there hiding beneath a lacquer veneer while

  The stronger weather yet to come as emotions gather

  As they gather well before the bow that dips deep

  So very deep, and then sliding down the hill so steep

  Deep down, deep down, falling into the trough beneath emotions towers

  Towers without sight of top, nor bottom have

  Crashing then they upon decks wet awash with memories tossed

  As the pilot fights to stay the line invisible before them

  And fails to see the coming of the loss of light

  As clouds of thought weigh down the saddened soul

  While deck and hold covers fail to stop the rushing waters in

  The ship stalls, shudders, shatters from within, rolls, and sinks beneath a wall of tears.

  10/3/2016 Copyright GORDON KUHN ass rights reserved.

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  Posted in blogging., fiction, Literary Arts, Love, memories, Poetry, PTSD, Serial Killer, serial murderers, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged Family, friends, Military, patience, Poetry, Poets, Writing

• I wish I could play a harmonica.

  Posted at 1:26 am by Gordon, on November 20, 2016

  
  

  I wish I knew how to play a harmonica. For that would be grand to sit on my porch and let the sound slip out towards the sky. I wish I knew how to play a violin, for that would be awesome as I love the sound of such. And then there is the guitar. What a wonderful song it can sing. At last I come to the piano. How fantastic a sound like a band singing all to itself with ups and downs of emotions that can only be reached and touched by a soul inflamed with the love of music. I’ve bought a dozen or so of those cheap harmonicas only to throw them out in time. Oh how I wish I could play the harmonica but its like the flute I have that lies dusty on the shelf and only is picked up when I wish to feel so foolish as to try.

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  Posted in blogging., Fantasy, fiction, Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, Love, memories, Poetry, Poets, Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Commentary, Fun, Life, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Writing

• The Twentieth Anniversary.

  Posted at 8:04 am by Gordon, on August 4, 2015

  
  

  Yesterday, August 3rd, was Jan and my 20th Anniversary. I love her so much. We went out and ate dinner and relived the memories of our first night together as a married couple.  Those memories always bring smiles from the actual marriage in a small chapel (just she and I, the minister and his wife) with a cow bell that they range from the steeple to announce our wedding. Photos, flowers, all dressed up. We didn’t tell anyone because we didn’t want to have anyone go out and buy gifts and things as we had our own households and didn’t need anything. Unfortunately, we made a lot of people angry at us because we eloped. Well, anyway, we rented a cabin with a hot tub. Our luck.. the cabin was haunted. Out on the side porch was a hottube. Jan and I had never used a hottub and thought it would be fun. We turned it on. It got hot. I almost broke the cover getting it off,……something about not crawling across the cover to unlatch it…heard a loud snap sound and crawled back off. My lady came out and tested the water….perfect. She jumped in and I went to get my swim suit on (we were very visible from the road you understand with woods behind us houses across the street and up and down the hillside). I went inside and changed and came back to jump into the tub but the sliding glass doors were closed; and before Jan could stop me I walked into them. The next thing I knew I was on my  back with a very sore forehead having bounced off the doors. I sat up and Jan was in the tub laughing. We both laughed. I was fine and it set up the night for hugs and a great memory of the day. That night I tried to sleep but was hounded all night long with things (remember I said the place was haunted) touching my face and arms that were uncovered from under the blankets. Jan said “I’m out of here” and went back to the first floor. We checked for flying bugs….none. Tried to get back to sleep and again the same things….something touching my face, neck, arms, and hands. We never found out what it was. Whenever I’d flip on the lights there was nothing visible that could be touching me or her. The next day, our one night rental over, we went into Gatlinburg and rented a non-haunted room. 20 years plus one day. I love my wife.

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  Posted in Love, Poetry, Poets, Writing | 2 Comments | Tagged blogging, Gatlinburg, haunted cabin, hottubs, Love, Poet, sliding glass doors, wedding, Writing

• How An Angel Changed My Love Life

  Posted at 1:14 am by Gordon, on January 17, 2015

  
  

  I think this is a beautiful entry. Because of that I had to reblog it. I hope that all my readers enjoy the insight and wisdom in this short piece as much as I have. Thanks, Dr. Register for sharing.

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  Posted in Humanity, Love, Poetry, Poets, Uncategorized, Writing | 9 Comments | Tagged blogging, Life, Love, Relationships, Writing

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