Category Archives: Writing

Georgia & Footprints in Time


We spent a week in Georgia on our property there. It is was nice but a bit sad. Raining in reality and in relationships. Funny how things can change. When someone is ill from drugs or alcohol and they get straight or die it is generally true that the family and those close by are found to be ill themselves. But they don’t recognize it. Such is the case in Georgia.

 

FOOTPRINTS IN TIME

Hours of minutes made to sand were turned
As days once were, they came haunting naked
Beasts as ghosts did arise to hungry feed
Upon the very aperture of thought twisted then to seed
Being spread out before the hosts from near and distant past
Disallowing peace to remain encamped or to last
As the fire of memory rose and clouded the sky
With a smoke meant to hang in the air and not to fly
On winds set to bring each day into focus pure
Instead in memory’s pain the days became obscure

 

Copyright 2017 Gordon Kuhn

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CROSSING

Crossing the deepest river without a boat

Sailing the storm washed open sea in a cardboard box

My brain is climbing hills that only I can see

Each upward step is alive with pain granted and felt

With no medication to stop the fire

None exists unless alcohol laced

And it is such that it curls up from the earth below

While others float past talking

Their voices in pleasure do share and grant comfort

To them sharing the night and the day and the world travels on!

While the sky opens and — but not to me

I sing my songs in a vacuum it would seem

While standing in the dark on a street without a name

My voice claims the night in shyness

Beginning soft, then rising up to touch the branches of trees

While many memories come to haunt and

There I am, I’m crossing a river without a boat

Sailing against the wind in an open cardboard box

I speak to those passing in the deep dark surrounding me

But no one responds, no one hears my sound

No one notices me there in the deepest gloom

For, in truth, I am all alone

Alone in the night, alone with the gift

While the fire rages from the earth below

Coursing up my body with flaming words that no one can see or hear

There is no medication to stop the pain

That comes from sentence forming words swarming in my mind

But how glorious it all is to be alone in the night

While my voice lifts and climbs in song aimed at the stars and the moon

While I’m there crossing the deepest river without a boat in search of you

Climbing mountains that only I can see

 

Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn, The Poet in the Rain.

Where did the year go?


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

Constant Comment Newsletter


Hi,

I have started a newsletter through Constant Contact. If you wish to receive postings like are on  here then I suggest that you write me and give me your email address for inclusion into my newsletter posts. My email is GKUHNWRITES@AOL.COM and I look forward to communicating with you.

 

Sincerely, Gordon Kuhn

TOMORROW TODAY


Tomorrow came late today
It wasn’t supposed to be
But the day had come to set her free
And there she was, and all was out of the way
Tomorrow came late today
And there was no place left for her to go
Street lights turned on and began to glow
As her love packed up and set about to flow
Down the river and through the town
To the open air where she would find the wide-open sea
Where she would finally find herself set out and freed
And tomorrow came late today
When they found they had nothing left to say
She untied her boat and set herself on her way
Those who stood and saw her go
Only could wave as she turned to the sea
She was on the tide and found herself set free
With a wave, a kiss, and she was gone with the flow
Tomorrow came early today.

Copyright Gordon Kuhn 2018 all rights reserved 10/27/18

A MEMORY OF YOU


Here I stand in the light of an early Indian summer sun
Look through my eyes where it’s just peaking up over distant hills
While you and I stand searching for lions, tigers, sharks, and dragons
Of my imagination where we as children used to run
When you and I were just 8 years old and were addicted to having fun
Running barefoot with stubbed toes across lawns and dirt roads
When life itself was easy and at the end of the day
It always ended on pillows where our curly haired sleepy heads would lay
No one ever warned of changes or the future foretold
Where we met so long ago before fantasy windmills and rainswept windowsills
Blocked the view and destroyed the fun
When we didn’t own a car
But from where we stood we needn’t and didn’t go far
There was no need to feed the adventure
For it was just you and me
And we were completely free
With love enough in our hearts for any 8-year-old to share
When life passed around us without any care
Without any conjecture and life left no scar
Lions, tigers, sharks, and dragons did not mar
The landscape that we ourselves made
In our memories, as we were running unafraid
But now the game has changed
And I look now, searching through the mists of memory for you
Back in the years when all was said to be true
And wonder where the time went, and life was rearranged
Then life changed, and I stand alone now with just a memory of you

Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn, all rights reserved 10/26/18

A DEATH


A DEATH

 

A distant friend has passed this night

Passed and joined another realm, another dance

Brandy and death together in a waltz

Without tears falling from dry eyes

The sorrow of the dancers goes on living

Trapped in an eternal ballet as life goes on to die

While nature’s odd sorts in pose stand frozen

Where they are locked and wearing a disguise

And you love me as someone you cannot stop

While we will dance with brandy and with death

Until the hours fall away and death caves in

Leaving an opening where one had never been

Under the shadows of the moon

Amid a stagnate wind

Remember us when you drink brandy and dance in a waltz

While about us the dancers fall in death

One upon one to cover the ballroom floor

And tears cannot fall from dry eyes

Even when we are all wearing a disguise

And pretend to be just one across time

Dancing with brandy and with death

With dry eyes unable to drop a single tear

And a distant friend has passed this night

Passed and joined another realm, another dance

While you and I stand in love, hand in hand

And watch the world as for some it comes to an end.

 

Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn, Poet in the Rain 11/19/18

A CAST OF ELVIS


A CAST OF ELVIS

It was early in the morning
Before the sun had chosen to rise
While in the West there was reported the coming of a storm
For the clouds were stacked up to the top of the sullen sky
Thunderheads stood out in darkness forming
Telling a sleepy paperboy to carry a slicker in his backpack
Flashes of electricity free-formed in their announcement
While the church bells proclaimed early communion
As the priests in robes of silk left their hidden dorm
Down the street above where the butchers cut up fresh meat
And one of their number walked briskly along
A hidden pair of still warm panties gathered and out of sight
Tucked in the folds of his blessed priestly cloth
An overnight present from a grateful parish member
Given freely for blessings and release from her sins
But it was the early rising newspaper vendors that set off the alarm
That Elvis was dead!
And so the lines to meet him would be shorter later that day
But curiosity was peaked about the bathroom floor
And so, the restaurant cast a statute of the man to be blistered by the sun
As it sat upon a bench with an open arm to fit around a fan
It was covered with bird shit during the day
And then stood waiting for the coolness that would come with the rising moon
While wishing for rain to wash the bird slime into the gutter towards the sea
And in the dark of the secret time
The statues in the park would be set free to dance around in glee
While others found a need to kneel and pray.

10/17/18 Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn Poet in the Rain All Rights Reserved

Without a Boat (Amended and rewritten 10/15/2018}


WITHOUT A BOAT (amended/rewritten 10/15/2018)

Jesus was a sailor who sailed without a boat
He had no need upon that to stand, for he could easily float
Above the briny chilling cold and darkest dark of deep
Where many sailors struggled and in death there they fell to sleep
He had no need to save anyone from their drowning
For their lives, they sole alone by free choice were forming
While his force was in league with the ghostly godly nature
And blessed with acceptance of the final cleansing rapture
But man and God in their relationship had suffered a fracture
And the book said Jesus had come with his blood to repair
The breach that God had laid upon humans in despair
And in trusting to his words to those he left behind
Simple messages given to save and to remind
All in time of his divine and spiritual nature
But if today he were alive he would surely and sadly find that
The church he never formed is now a business venture
Run by modern-day Pharisees and scribes
With guilt, incense, robes, and chants they monopolize
with finance and profit at the center
suggesting sins can be obliterated by monetary bribes
But Jesus was a simple sailor who sailed without a boat
Others never realized their faith would help them float
above the briny cold and darkest dark of deep
where many sailors had gone to deathly sleep
then with his fellows and fish the main course for dinners
he would sit and break bread with sinners
upon the shore with a roaring fire the flames in curls
Where he ate and laughed and talked about girls
And there he broke bread and drank wine
so long ago in an ancient time.

Written on 10/14/18 Copyright, 2018 Gordon Kuhn All rights Reserved

WITHOUT A BOAT


WITHOUT A BOAT

Jesus was a sailor who sailed without a boat

He had no need upon that to stand

He had no need to save anyone

His force was in league with nature

But man and God had suffered a fracture

And the book says Jesus came to repair

Today he would find sadly that

The church he never formed is a business

Run by modern-day Pharisees and scribes

With guilt, incense, robes, and chants

But Jesus was a sailor who sailed without a boat

And he sat upon the shore with friends

Where he ate and laughed and talked about girls

And there he broke bread and drank wine.

 

COPYRIGHT 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED GORDON KUHN 10/14/18