Puppy in the River and Random thoughts on 8.15.2017


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

truth slain and random thoughts over ice cream 8.14.17

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

a simple poem and random remarks 2033/08/11/17

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.


I will never forget the day that Hemingway died

Nor of how he died on ‘61’s second day of July

I was sixteen years old way back then

And far too much to the universe tuned in

I will never forget the shock that filled me as I cried

Deep inside a wounded creature not knowing why

Not even knowing much about the man I stood

Alone in silence surrounded by living woods

That were more than silent that day he died

To me they were, to me they were and yet

The world still moved and went its passing way

But in my heart, I knew something broke that day

Something strange that day had come and gone its way

The day that Papa died, yes that day on ‘61s second day of July       1/14/17


I’ve been silent a bit for certain reasons, which cause me confusion. I have been writing as much as I always do, but feel constrained what with contests and awards and worry about theft of my writing. The joy of sharing is diminished greatly because of all that. I don’t know who to approach about it or even how to ask for advice. It simply is an issue that limits me in what I love to do. As a poet I’ve run across many outlets who will only look at your poetry if you’ve never published any poetry … and I mean “any” poetry. So, I guess because I’ve published then that places me in that category, and I cannot put anything with them. Then there are regional and age and sex issues, which must be confronted. Being a poet is not simply being a writer. No!

New Blog — End of emails.

Hi….So, why am I writing you ask. Well, its this way. I’ve decided to start another blog.

Yes. God help me. Aren’t you excited?


Oh well.

Well, I am, and here is the deal.

This is a blog about poetry. Only poetry. I decided to do this as my email lists are growing too large and I also make political commentary from time to time and my other blogs get weighted down. So, by separating out the poetry I can focus on one thing at this location and one thing only. And, very importantly, anyone coming to this site is only going to find poetry and poetry related links and comments.

I am looking for you to do a very simple thing for me (and you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but it would be ever so nice if you did) simply go to Poet in the Rain at http://gkpoems.wordpress.com/ 

At the top of the page you will find the word Subscribe, click on it and subscribe. (No Cost and you can unsubscribe whenever you wish to do so.)

I’m simply separating the poetry crowd from the non-poetry crowd and getting rid of the individual emails that I send out. Poet in the Rain will send out its own emails and you will be able to unsubscribe at any time you so wish and not have to hit the delete button which I know some of you are doing now…..I know who you are. You ‘re sitting there and suddenly you get this beep and my email pops up and you say “crap” or something like that and hit the delete button…..uh huh…. Well, I’m giving you the chance to opt in or not opt in by subscribing or not subscribing.

So, there you have it. Would love to see you subscribe but if you don’t I will understand and so from now on (except for those who request it) I will not be sending out individual poetry emails.

And everyone stood up and cheered. 01

So, go to and subscribe.

Once I hit the send button on this email the email list will disappear from my computer, meaning, if you wish to receive any future poetry from me you need to go to Poet in the Rain and subscribe.

Much thanks to all of you who have written me with comments and much thanks to you who have groaned every time you see a new post from me before hitting the delete button. Think of how much time this is going to shave off from your day.

I look forward to seeing all of you on Poet in the Rain located at http://gkpoems.wordpress.com/ 

Best to you, always!
Gordon Kuhn

Author of Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems
Buy or view the book at:

OR You can go to Barnes & Noble and order it there.
Simply type in The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems in the search box and order the book.

Poet in the Rain: http://gkpoems.wordpress.com/
Thoughts: https://gordonwrites.com/
Prince of Dan: http://theprinceofdan.blogspot.com/


Kindly visit, have a cup of coffee, subscribe, comment, leave money, but please enjoy.
A subscription will make sure any writing posted will come directly to you. SO

Come visit, send money, sign up…..subscriptions are free and you will get instant access to future posts and you can look at back posts and, if you are nice, I’ll post your comments.  Come on over.  If I had a beer I’d share.  BUT fair warning:  Some of my poetry tends to be on the dark side….not evil…..just, in some cases, it would be a good idea to not have sharp instruments nearby.  I don’t write to shock or make someone worry about my mental condition.  I write in a fever.  The words come in a rush, so fast at times I cannot keep up and then have to edit again and again to get it right.  So, enough, there are three of my poems there out of a collection of close to a hundred.  I intend on publishing a book soon and this happens to be a birthing zone of sorts for ideas.  You may not like one or two poems, but I am sure you will find many of mine you will fall in love with and if not then I understand ane will not be offended if you don’t subscribe.  But, in the words of the world famous author friend of mine in Canada, TL Tyson:  SUBSCRIBE NOW, DAMNIT.



Gordon | September 15, 2010 at 8:45 pm | Categories: Uncategorized | URL: http://wp.me/pytLm-ec
You are most welcome to come and visit and enjoy my poetry and make comment. 


Sincerely, Gordon Kuhn