memories | THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Category: memories
- 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
- 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
- I Recall Your Hand in Mine
  
  Posted at 1:25 am by Gordon, on May 10, 2018
  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
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  Posted in memories, Poetry, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged Poets
- In the Dark
  
  Posted at 3:32 pm by Gordon, on May 7, 2018
  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.
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  Posted in alcoholism, blogging., Literary Arts, memories, Poet, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Poetry, Poets, Relationships, Writing
- The Drunk on the Corner is
  
  Posted at 5:49 am by Gordon, on April 15, 2018
  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.
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  Posted in alcoholism, blogging., Catholicism, Crime, death, Literary Arts, memories, POET, Poetry, Poets, religion, The Pope., Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Drunks, Holiness, Life, religion, The Pope.
- CONTACTS 09.01.2017 A
  
  Posted at 11:28 am by Gordon, on September 1, 2017
  More contacts.
  
  Harsh Reality wrote that like my comment on “Life.” And, I did and do like it. Harsh Reality is also known as Opinion Man. He is someone who really puts a lot of thought into what he is writing and has a huge following.
  
  https://aopinionatedman.com/2017/08/16/life-5/?c=451612#comment-451612
  
  ==============================
  
  MakeItUltra is another site worth visiting. The author speaks on therapy, narcissism, and narcissistic abuse. That can be found at https://makeitultrapsychology.wordpress.com/2017/08/10/5-signs-you-havent-fully-healed-from-narcissistic-abuse/
  
  There he offers 5 signs about narcissistic abuse. Very interesting.
  
  ======================================
  
  Man of Many Thoughts is another that I have commented on and is well worth a journey to his blog to see what he is writing about. Guaranteed he can set up a scenario that will generate a lot conversations. https://keithgarrettpoetry.com/2017/08/18/dismantling-of-america/
  
  ==========================
  
  Then there is this delightful blog BlueFishh. The author welcomes you warmly and explains what she is all about in a few simple paragraphs. The blog used to be call Economix.
  
  https://bluefishh.wordpress.com/about/?blogsub=confirming#blog_subscription-3
  
  ==========================
  
  If I could… (Friday Night Poetry Corner #142)
  
  You have to visit this location. Seriously. The art work is interesting in itself, a bit confusing at first, but draws the artist/poet/searchers/etc (etc is a pretty big area) right in. So go, read.
  
  =========================
  
  Lakshmi Padmanaban is an Indian girl who …. well, you can read about her at
  
  https://thethoughtfulrants.wordpress.com/about/
  
  if I tell you anything it will spoil the adventure of going and reading her blog. So, go, now. Just do it.
  
  ==============================
  
  jade0207 ah, this one is an area for ladies.
  
  https://being1nsane.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/why-we-desperately-need-girl-friendships-in-todays-times/
  
  164 bloggers like that page!!!!!!
  
  Personally I have always had more girl relationships than male relationships. I guess I just like women more than men and, as far as my mom and dad were concerned, that was and is a good thing. Women are just so incredible, love everyone I ever met.
  
  ===========================
  
  Later more on Delmer Smith and the victims whose blood he shed.
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  Posted in blogging., Crime, death, Death Row in Florida, death sentence, Gordon Kuhn, home invasion, Humanity, Literary Arts, memories, narrative nonfiction, nonfiction, novels, POET, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, true crime, unassigned, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Crime, Depression, Family, Fantasy, Fiction, Gordon Kuhn, Life, Literature, Love, Murder, NARRATIVE NONFICTION, Poet, Poetry, Poets, true crime, writers, Writing
- A Sunday Night Poem: Passages along with random thoughts about nothing important 2248/080617
  
  Posted at 10:20 pm by Gordon, on August 6, 2017
  The Peppermint Lounge, Montego Bay, 1962
  By Gordon Kuhn copyright 08.06.2017
  all rights reserved.
  
  There once was a whore house in Montego Bay
  Where $2 bought a pitcher of beer and 5 got you a lay
  There bronze skinned ladies with loose dresses would sway
  with the music until the break of day
  Never letting the customers stray too far away
  Ah, the booze was cheap and the ladies kept their smiles
  And we never once shared our private trials
  But laughed and danced and drank the night away
  Until dawns’ light broke the fragile spell
  When we went back to the ships with memories to tell
  Our youthful hunger for rowdy times and cheap romance sated
  To the ships where our rifles and ammo near our packs silently waited.
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  Posted in alcoholism, blogging., Literary Arts, memories, Military, POET, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, Veterans, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Cuba, Gordon Kuhn, Jamaica, Life, Marines, Military, Poetry, Poets, War, Writing
- 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
- Poetry and Random Thoughts 073017/0608
  
  Posted at 6:10 am by Gordon, on July 30, 2017
  There is a difference, I think, from the common to the uncommon. Yet, in many cases they appear side by side as twins. Just a subtle difference here or there can determine the difference that you and I cannot perceive on the surface. But isn’t that the problem? Isn’t it how we perceive what we consider to be4 reality?
  
  I have, since early childhood, wondered how you and I see color. A teacher points at a chart and says, “That is blue.” Really? Think about this for a moment. The teacher has an assigned role to play and relies upon her belief and understanding of common versus uncommon. And yet, how do we know if her understanding is correct?
  
  If she says that the object she is pointing to is blue you record that in your mind as being blue. But what if her perception of blue is more tinted with green in your mind. So every time you look at item that in your mind has green in it or perceive it as such then when called upon to point at blue in a test you we pointing at something which in your mind is blue and yet in reality is blue-green to her but she perceives it as blue because she sees everything put before her as blue being blue and yet her mind approaches the color she sees as being blue-green.
  
  I mean, seriously, how can we come to the belief that what you see versus what I see is actually correct.
  
  In another example, I just fell asleep while sitting here and dreamt I was at a seminar. The hotel that we were staying at was very nice and had a very large swimming pool. Everyone was swimming and so I decided to join in. I just now realized that I was the only one in the swimming pool that was naked but neither I nor anyone else recognized that fact until in my mind I just now realized that I was naked. The reason is because I remembered that in my dream I did not have any swimming suit with me. But in my mistaken reality I and everyone there had a swimming suit on. So, if by chance, you happen to go swimming the question then becomes are you wearing a swimming suit or are you naked.
  
  So, I guess, the real question is quite simply: what is reality?
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  Posted in Fantasy, fiction, Gordon Kuhn, Humanity, Literary Arts, memories, reality, religion, Society, unassigned, Uncategorized, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Commentary, earth, Environment, Fun, Internet, Life, Military, Relationships, Sex, sun, Television, travel
- rabbit tears – run rabbit run
  
  Posted at 8:54 am by Gordon, on June 16, 2017
  Chapter one: How do I love thee, let me count thy bruises.
  
  He stood in front of her rubbing the knuckles on his right hand staring down at her where she sat on a wooden chair in front of him. He growled as she reached up to where blood trickled from the bruised flesh below her right eye. Touched it, saw the blood, then lowering her arms clasped her hands in front of her on her lap. Slowly she looked up at him with tears racing down to her chin. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he voice trembled. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
  
  The year was 1926. She was just 19 and he was 27.
  
  He slapped her hard jerking her head to the left. She slowly recovered. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
  
  “So, my mother and sister are liars?” Blood stood against the vows of marriage. Sometimes blood is stronger, and in this case it was. “They saw you at the theater”
  
  “No,” her voice wavered, “no they, if anyone it was Virginia and all I did was acknowledge an old school friend.”
  
  “Who you then went into the movies with.”
  
  “He had his girlfriend with him”
  
  “You sat with him.”
  
  “I sat with them, not with him,” she said her face hurting her badly. Her tongue slipped sideways and found a tooth had been dislodged.
  
  **********************
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  Posted in blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, memories, narrative nonfiction, nonfiction, novels, unassigned, Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Family, Gordon Kuhn, narrative non-fiction, NARRATIVE NONFICTION, writers, Writing
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Category: memories

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

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

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Posted at 1:25 am by Gordon, on May 10, 2018

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Posted at 3:32 pm by Gordon, on May 7, 2018

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Posted at 5:49 am by Gordon, on April 15, 2018

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Posted at 11:28 am by Gordon, on September 1, 2017

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Posted at 10:20 pm by Gordon, on August 6, 2017

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

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Posted at 6:10 am by Gordon, on July 30, 2017

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Posted at 8:54 am by Gordon, on June 16, 2017

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