THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Tag: Depression

• A Soft Tapping in Darkness Came

  Posted at 3:37 pm by Gordon, on June 30, 2018

  
  

  A Soft Tapping in Darkness Came
  Last night I was wakened from a deep and troubled sleeping
  Sleeping deep, blanket wrapped, and restless in the dark
  When there came a soft tapping, a gentle and easy rapping
  Gently placed upon the cold glass window near my bed
  And from that slight sound, that gentle tap, I was drowsy led
  Led from my sleeping deep and blanket wrapped, restless in the dark
  To peer with no slight concern and wonder and seek the sight
  That lay hidden, perhaps in death, in the rain filled night
  Death in memories with ghosts that leave the living in fright
  While hoping and thinking it must be a branch from my tree
  One close to the side of the window that I could plainly see
  That in the wind and rain that storm filled restless night
  Could rap and tap and do its best to cause me no common fright
  Should I but simply stare off to where there was no light
  And then sudden appear some phantom in my sight
  Some ghost of man or men who walked last night
  Whose shadows live and come from the past
  While haunting now their sad memories are cast
  They that walk their walks restless always every night
  So close and far they live and walk within my sight
  From memories best dealt with in the light
  Memories best left alone during a restless, sleepless night
  Apparitions real perhaps that haunt my every thought
  While in a restless sleep just peace is sought
  Simple peace of mind that cannot for any price be bought.

  © 2018 Gordon Kuhn, All Rights Reserved 6/30/2018

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  Posted in nonfiction, POET, Poetry, Post Traumatic Disorder | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Depression, Gordon Kuhn, Poetry, Writing

• Walking with a Dead Butterfly

  Posted at 1:59 pm by Gordon, on May 7, 2018

  
  

  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.

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  Posted in blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, Poetry, Poets, Uncategorized, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Death, Depression, Fantasy, Fiction, Gordon Kuhn, Life, Poetry, Poets, Writing

• COMMENTS AND FOLLOWS 9/3/2017 A

  Posted at 8:19 am by Gordon, on September 3, 2017

  
  

  MovieBabble, thanks for the follow. A reviewer of movies at

  https://moviebabblereviews.com/2017/08/06/worst-movies-of-july-2017/

  very interesting commentary there.

  ==================================

  Here is an interesting place by Juansen https://lonelyblueboy.wordpress.com/2017/08/04/my-experience-in-a-mental-health-facility/

  Very forceful, passionate, and open. Wow. Juansen, I know depression and I know it can easily kill a person. Thanks for sharing. Powerful.

  =========================================

  https://charlesfrenchonwordsreadingandwriting.wordpress.com/2017/08/13/it-can-happen-here-a-lesson-from-charlottesville-virginia/

  Charles, I was not aware of Sinclair Lewis’s book “It Can’t Happen Here” so thanks I will have to get it and read it. And thanks for liking my post.

  =========================================

  Four more that you should look at if you haven’t already. Very interesting, from the heart and soul of these writers. Well worth the time to visit and maybe follow. I am using links only because of time needs and not because of any other reason. GO and ENJOY these are places of fresh air!

  https://dandougblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/03/private-political-journals-vol-1/

  The Second Coming

  https://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/2017/08/12/pennies-2/

  https://franksolanki.wordpress.com/2017/06/25/%e2%80%8bpretty-lady/

   

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  Posted in blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Humanity, Literary Arts, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, Writing | 1 Comment | Tagged blogging, Depression, Gordon Kuhn, Literature, Poetry, Poets, true crime, writers, 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

• PATRIOT Poetry with a streak of random thoughts. 8.17.17

  Posted at 1:49 pm by Gordon, on August 17, 2017

  
  

  PATRIOT

  So proud you stand, you patriot
  So proud above the cast iron statute
  Of Robert E Lee astride his horse
  You think you are creating Camelot
  And you shouted with glee
  As the statute fell down past the aged tree
  That had shaded it, protected it, been there
  In snow and storm until you arrived, you patriot
  And you stomped on his face, you patriot
  You stomped on his face like some superior
  You stomped on his face and shouted with raised arms
  For you are a patriot and set about to free us from our history
  Set about to destroy our history and our freedoms because
  You are a patriot.
  No, you are a coward.
  You are scum.

   

  Copyright © 2017 Gordon Kuhn All rights reserved.

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  Posted in blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Humanity, Literary Arts, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Depression, NARRATIVE NONFICTION, poems, Poetry, Poets, Racism, Relationships, Writing

• Puppy in the River and Random thoughts on 8.15.2017

  Posted at 10:28 am by Gordon, on August 15, 2017

  
  

  PUPPY IN THE RIVER

  I believe I was ten years old and out riding on my bike on a warm summer’s day. As was my custom, I stopped at the bridge on Madison Street in Maywood overlooking the muddy, trash filled, and sluggish Des Plaines River. It was one of my favorite spots for daydreaming, but on that day my favorite place turned into a nightmare that still haunts me to this day.

  As traffic went past behind me on four lanes of hot asphalt, I would stand and wonder about the first to view the river when it was clean and pure. I thought about the explorers who would trace the river to its beginnings when you could reach and cup your hands and take a drink of such refreshing waters that, by the time I stood there, had become dangerously polluted. It was only a foot deep at the middle, if that. What once had been a proud river had been destroyed by industry and polluters all along the wandering stretch that once had been so pristine.

  I hated looking down at the shallow path of water that flowed 30 feet below me filled with junk and stink. But it was natural to peer over the concrete rail and down to the slop and slime and, on that day, as I peered over the edge there in the water was the body of a puppy floating upside down, its stomach bloated, white fur with streaks of green, its head was held by a rope tied to a brick.

  The Puppy in the River

  Subliminal thoughts of deep despair,
  Beneath the Des Plaines surface there;
  Shallow waters ran cold and dark,
  Did silence the puppy’s plaintive bark.
  A toss, a throw, from bridge above
  to water flowing not far below;
  A brick about the neck,
  a final gift they did bestow.
  And I, a child, beheld the horrid sight,
  Before the dawn had turned to night,
  Before the darkness settled in,
  Leaving memories to haunt from deep within.
  Curse me, bless me, dear god please defend me!
  Take this memory from my sight,
  remove the evil that I see.
  A puppy in a river drowned—
  And I, with it, am forever bound.

  Copyright Gordon Kuhn, All rights reserved. 9/18/2013

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  Posted in blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Depression, Gordon Kuhn, Online Writing, poems, Poet, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing

• truth slain and random thoughts over ice cream 8.14.17

  Posted at 12:28 am by Gordon, on August 14, 2017

  
  

  Truth Slain on a TV Stand

  The morning bell was met head-on
  And each child followed the trail as winter won
  To where truth then was set upon and promptly slain
  For sadly truth had gathered thinking it safe
  As if fearing safety it mattered simply not
  The rot that had grown up in Webster’s lot
  While all about the dreamer’s world came that
  A web of cotton thread all wound about
  That hid the learned from the learning there
  With great gashes to the bone through grisly hair
  I watched as torment swept up the path
  To claim that which was left of the day
  Coiled in self-incriminating powered doubt
  For none was there with whom to share
  And none was there to take the classic dare
  But, instead, the gentle waves of sympathy rose
  To climb aboard the train of memories
  Before the closing bell had rung and
  Students filled with nonsense about the world around
  Ran home to watch Kukla, Fran, and Ollie
  On the small black and white TV screen
  That had come to land in a place of pride
  An altar of electronic marvel to stun the world
  The twisting movement about of rabbit ears
  The frantic swirling the antenna about
  In hopes to get the camera shot
  Before the ending of the show
  In search of the spot, the spot, the spot to find
  To make the frazzled snow look more real
  Where Lucy, Desi, Ethel and Fred would be
  Along with an accordion player had earlier graced the day
  Making life appear as easy without pain or torment
  They lied, the lied, they spun and twisted the thin posts
  And they lied, they lied, while we ate cold beans in a pouring rain
  While children we ate Tomato Soup with thick buttered white bread
  Prophesied to help us in at least 8 ways
  Enriched (we found was putting back that removed) for us
  Only to be told so many years later that
  White bread will kill you as it brings on the fat
  And that Lucy and Dezi, Ethel and Fred
  Didn’t get along, but we never knew and so
  We twisted those damn antennas round and round
  Until we found the spot, the spot, the damned spot
  And certain ghost like creatures appeared in scattered form
  Focused on the glass screen as if the world was somehow going right
  While war was off in a foreign land
  And so we searched for the spot, the spot, the spot. 8.13.2017

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  Posted in blogging., Fantasy, Gordon Kuhn, Humanity, Literary Arts, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Depression, Fantasy, humor, Literature, Online Writing, poems, Poet, Poetry, Poets, true crime, War, writers, Writers Resources, 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

• Poem: Heartbeat at Night /// 8.1.17 A

  Posted at 6:50 am by Gordon, on August 1, 2017

  
  

  Heartbeat at Night

  ---

  ---

  ---

  by Gordon Kuhn
  Copyright 8.1.2017 all rights reserved.

  I stand alone in the steamy dark
  Listening to the sound my heart beat makes all alone
  and the other voices there never reply
  no matter how I call out their names and I fight and try
  to hear a voice, a single voice,  come to me from out of the sky
  For I am all alone in the steamy night
  I speak to the dusk surrounding and there is no response
  My words echo back so lonely in the night
  I speak to the darkness surrounding and there is no response
  for living ghosts never show themselves in séance
  at least none that I have ever found
  and their voices never reply, and they, should they try?
  to be so earthly bred and bound a monument to the living
  no matter how much I speak and try and I cannot make it by
  listening for a single voice to be found, just one to speak to me
  as I stand all alone in the night, the steamy night and am so alone
  to hear a voice come out from the sky, to simply reach me before I die
  from those there standing so clearly in my sight

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  Posted in blogging., Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, POET, Poetry, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Depression, Family, Gordon Kuhn, Poets, silence, writers, Writing