Poetry | THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Category: Poetry
- BACKWASH
  
  Posted at 8:11 pm by Gordon, on September 9, 2018
  BACKWASH
  Walking backwards in my mind slowly thru time
  I find myself stranded, just another body standing in line
  A pathetic piece of flesh and bone
  Left alive to review all the scrapings my handmade in stone
  Until the carving knife broke from all the writing
  And I found that my life was not so exciting
  As I had envisioned it
  But drinking made it seem to fit
  The surrounding air and places I had the train boarded
  Without thought of where the trip was going or how sorted
  It would be
  But I would soon see
  The bridge left broken and bloody near that meadow in years past
  Where death took a friend and then came the revenge that failed to last
  In my heart, that day as the vomit filled my mouth with backwash
  And life about me began to sway and I felt the sting of a lash
  
  Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn: written 9.9.18 first draft
  
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  Posted in POET, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Gordon Kuhn, Poetry, Poets, writers
- Yesterday’s Child
  
  Posted at 1:26 pm by Gordon, on June 21, 2018
  The following poem will be in Standoff. The book, Standoff is a group of poems and short stories
  
  Yesterday’s Child
  
  Yesterday’s child was born with a patchwork brain
  Filled with paintings that would never be brought to view
  For a painter, a drawer, he simply could not be
  Overrun with songs that would never be sung
  For they melted or collapsed before being born
  Adrift with poetry that would struggle to be heard
  But some broke through to live a day
  Yesterday’s child was born to others to view
  While about him his life slowly colored with stain
  His sense of security and being loved flung
  To the woods where sense lived in the leaves
  That surrounded and filed the world with color
  
  Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn
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  Posted in Literary Arts, POET, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing | 2 Comments | Tagged Poetry, Poets, Writing
- Rehearsing
  
  Posted at 3:03 am by Gordon, on May 8, 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
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  Posted in blogging., fiction, Gordon Kuhn, Interviews, Literary Arts, Poet, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, reality, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Life, poems, Poetry, Relationships, religion, Writing
- 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
- A new follower: Somna Kapoor
  
  Posted at 10:00 pm by Gordon, on September 2, 2017
  https://somnakapoor.wordpress.com/2017/08/17/phases-in-life-of-an-introvert/
  
  A writer with tremendous power has just decided to honor me with following my blog. Please go and read what she writes because it comes from her heart.
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  Posted in blogging., POET, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Life, Poetry, truth, Writing
- 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 simple poem and random remarks 2033/08/11/17
  
  Posted at 2:18 am by Gordon, on August 12, 2017
  I Am On Fire
  
  Gordon Kuhn Copyright 8.11.2017
  
  Within the skull born of female pain
  He lashed out at the days but could not steal the stain
  That in treasured measure laid its curling tone
  Upon the printer’s inked plate during winter’s dying moan
  He never thought the deeds quite through each day
  While death visited his youth upon its way
  Ripping out the contour of his life
  Leaving behind the refuse of his strife.
  His guilt real or imagined lay deep about his feet
  No peace shall he ever through conscience release ever greet
  While in the lonely closing of his days
  Boxed in, surrounded by a killing maze.
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  Posted in POET, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Military, Online Writing, poems, Poet, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writers Resources, 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
- Beer Cans on the Counter and Random Thoughts at 0436 08.03.17
  
  Posted at 4:14 am by Gordon, on August 3, 2017
  Just woke and fixed a salad made up of cucumber, sweet onion, tomato, and Caesar dressing. Love it. Thinking of writing a play. Wish I had the talent. Don’t think that I do. In the meantime I look at my family history and think of all the rich material there and believe it is sad to let the story not be told. I look at life and see mistakes, countless mistakes, and a tragedy that should never have occurred and wonder just how to handle it. I wonder if it should be told and does it really matter. I don’t know. Really. I don’t know. I just see this pile of shit (can I say that?) and wonder about it all. I wonder who would it matter to except for myself?
  
  ==========================================================
  
  Once
  a poem by Gordon Kuhn Copyright 08.03.17
  
  I was young once and lived all alone.
  Each night I sat drunk in the dark
  And listened to the neighbors fighting down the street
  He said, she said, oh who gives a royal fuck.
  
  My nightly dinner a plate of fresh boiled spaghetti,
  The sauce a greasy mix of fried bacon with sweet onion
  My drink a tepid six pack of cheap bought beer
  The couch before the tv was my throne
  And drunk I had not a drop of respectability
  As I staggered about in my individuality
  Inside the one bedroom apartment
  Lost in a world without companionship
  Lost without counsel, without guidance
  And faced life confused and all alone.
  
  Beer cans setting on the counter
  One rolled up under the recliner rocker
  Neighbors fighting down the street
  He said, she said, oh who gives a fuck
  Simply leave me alone, all alone
  Its how I want to live, all alone
  Being young once and eating a dinner of spaghetti
  Its sauce fried bacon and onion on top a greasy mix
  Washed down by a six pack of Old Milwaukee
  I could not afford a better fare.
  
  Beer cans setting on the counter
  My body asleep on the floor
  Alcoholism was the bed time Teddy Bear
  Beside the bed near the door
  Where I could see the beer can under the rocker
  The neighbors screaming, fighting down the street
  He said, she said, oh who gives a fuck.
  
  Beer cans setting on the counter
  The neighbors fighting down the street
  He said, she said, oh who really gives a fuck.
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  Posted in alcoholism, blogging., Fantasy, Gordon Kuhn, Humanity, Literary Arts, nonfiction, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, Society, unassigned, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, death sentence, Depression, Family, Fiction, Life, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing
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Category: Poetry

Posted at 8:11 pm by Gordon, on September 9, 2018

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Posted at 1:26 pm by Gordon, on June 21, 2018

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Posted at 3:03 am by Gordon, on May 8, 2018

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

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Posted at 10:00 pm by Gordon, on September 2, 2017

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

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Posted at 2:18 am by Gordon, on August 12, 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 4:14 am by Gordon, on August 3, 2017

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