Gordon Kuhn | THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Tag: Gordon Kuhn
- A DEATH
  
  Posted at 1:14 am by Gordon, on October 20, 2018
  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
  
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  Posted in Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Gordon Kuhn, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing
- A CAST OF ELVIS
  
  Posted at 8:55 pm by Gordon, on October 17, 2018
  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
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  Posted in Fantasy, Gordon Kuhn, Literary Arts, Poetry, Poets, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Fantasy, Gordon Kuhn, Poetry, Poets, Relationships, writers, Writing
- THE TICKET
  
  Posted at 3:57 am by Gordon, on October 11, 2018
  THE TICKET
  
  It is the middle of the night
  And the railroad freight has just come in
  A sharp whistle slicing though the silence
  The engineer has taken his hand from the throttle
  The sound of escaping steam ends the prayers for the night
  The passengers all wandered off, boxes, empty boxes
  Wandering off to find a place to be unpacked
  And I wonder if it was me or you who had committed sin
  There in the railroad car in the dark among the silent boxes
  If sin was committed at all and was this a holy night
  When the conductor suddenly asked for my ticket
  As the train came to its final stop
  The sound of escaping steam ending the prayers for the night
  And I searched my pockets with all my might but
  I was not able to find the proof that I had bought one
  When the train came to its final stop and the conductor asked
  Wanting me to provide him with the proof
  That I belonged there with you
  But as I turned to where you had been, I found you were gone
  I was all alone in an empty railroad car
  The sound of escaping steam had ended the prayers for the night
  Standing alone in the rain, I wondered
  Which of us had committed sin
  If sin had been committed at all.
  
  Copy Write All rights reserved Gordon Kuhn 10/11/18
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  Posted in Poetry, Poets, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged Gordon Kuhn, Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing
- TRANSLUCENT
  
  Posted at 5:05 am by Gordon, on September 29, 2018
  Translucent
  It was five o’clock in the morning
  And there’s rain upon the roof
  It fell hard without any warning
  When it swept down the road
  Rushed up through the woods
  Caught the grassy fields by surprise
  The wind bent the bushes and the trees
  Then all was strangely gone
  And, for some reason, in the midst of it
  I recalled ancient tales of Beowulf
  I remembered his meeting with Grendel
  A descendent of Abel’s killer, Cain
  Then the death of the Hag
  Who did her seductive best, but lost to his sword
  Before a dragon felt the cold steel
  Then the rains washed it all away
  Nothing was left for me to ask to stay
  Not at five in the morning
  When the rain came and wet the roof
  Falling hard without any warning
  Sweeping down the road
  Catching all by surprise
  Bending the bushes, trees, and me
  Then was strangely gone.
  
  Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn 9.29.18
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  Posted in Poetry, Poets, unassigned, Uncategorized, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Gordon Kuhn, Life, Poetry, Poets, Rain, writers, Writing
- AWAKENING
  
  Posted at 6:11 pm by Gordon, on September 27, 2018
  I woke this morning to a different world
  Everything had sudden changed overnight
  When the rains came, fell, and the grass uncurled
  Where I had walked during the heat of the day before
  And there was nothing for me to do
  There was nothing I could or would say
  The world changed when I turned and looked away
  For a moment, a second, a sliver of time
  When I thought all was safe and secure
  And so I woke with a bloody nose
  I woke and I found what I thought was false
  And came to realize that there was no longer within the fight
  There was little desire within me to travel much further
  And yet I have to move along this path
  And stay on the lane wherein it is true
  That life is such and nothing can be undone.
  
  Copyright 2018 All rights reserved: Gordon Kuhn
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  Posted in POET, Poetry, Poets, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Gordon Kuhn, poems, Poet, Poetry, Writing
- 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
- 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 VISITOR
  
  Posted at 6:27 am by Gordon, on August 18, 2018
  The Visitor
  
  She came in the still dark of night
  Silent, gentle, and turned off the tabled light
  Leaving the apartment in a soft and low-level glow
  From the moon creeping in thru a blanketed cloud
  Peering thru grime swathed window panes allowed
  Casting shadows dancing on paint thirsty aged walls
  That overtime had seen good and bad life calls
  Soaking up the laughter, anger, and the tears
  And she slipped in and out of her clothes there
  Lit a cigarette and offered it up to share
  It glowed and lit her face as she took a strong draw
  Her beauty was in that room and was all that I saw
  While the moonlight swaddled us all around
  Outdoors the rain began to pound the ground
  We sat locked in stillness and listened to the rain
  Where in the naked quiet that surrounded us, we shared our pain
  And, in truth, I never knew her name.
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  Posted in Poetry, Poets, writers, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, Gordon Kuhn, Poetry, Poets, Writing
- Rain Drops
  
  Posted at 6:01 pm by Gordon, on August 16, 2018
  RAINDROPS
  
  Bumble Bee sized drops
  Falling with thunder sized hits
  Striking the broad leaves of green bent
  Beneath the sudden strikes from the sky sent
  Forcing them to bow before the growing deluge
  Lightning striking a short distance away
  The laughter of the rain as it slips and falls to the ground
  And I stand there listening and smelling the scent of a summer rain
  As it comes in the heat and washes away the dirty stain
  That darkens the pavement and the sidewalks left earlier in the day
  By life passing by.
  
  Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn
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  Posted in blogging., Poet, Poetry, Writing | 0 Comments | Tagged Gordon Kuhn, Poet, Poetry, Poets, Writing
- 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
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Tag: Gordon Kuhn

Posted at 1:14 am by Gordon, on October 20, 2018

A DEATH

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Posted at 8:55 pm by Gordon, on October 17, 2018

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Posted at 3:57 am by Gordon, on October 11, 2018

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Posted at 5:05 am by Gordon, on September 29, 2018

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Posted at 6:11 pm by Gordon, on September 27, 2018

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

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

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Posted at 6:27 am by Gordon, on August 18, 2018

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Posted at 6:01 pm by Gordon, on August 16, 2018

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

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