I noted that The Little Mermaid, as she is titled on her blog, liked several of my posts. I also noted that she has a huge following. I am envious. I am a writer. Writers write because they want people to read what they write. I have nowhere near the followers that she has. Can I be envious? I think respectfully envious is appropriate. She obviously is hitting the mark as is Opinionated Man, another blogger with huge outreach. So, what is the magic?
I don’t know. I am trying to figure that out.
In the meantime I will watch and read their posts and be amazed at what they have to say and also that of the people who comment on their posts.
Here is a link to one of The Little Mermaid’s posts:
Another day, another confusing conversation with self about life and things relative to that which we think is relative. Okay, so maybe this is a bit too much of a thought process but I have to ask why is it that when I had over 500 followers here and over 500 followers on Facebook and then consider LinkedIn and Twitter why is it that I totter along with 4 visits on a daily twit? Can anyone explain that to me? Any answers?
by improve everywhere
Do you like poetry? I like poetry. My dogs have always like poetry. Have you ever heard me read poetry? How about if I sang it to you? Any chance for that? Come on where’s the support here, there, over there. It has to be here someplace, why else would I write poetry? Happy poetry, sad poetry, nonsense poetry, and serious poetry. Ok, you can just sit and read then…..but if you do make it MY poetry that you read: The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems on Amazon, or for a very select few, Rabbit in a Box also on Amazon.
You do want to support me, don’t you. Of course you do. Amazon, Gordon Kuhn….come and buy a book! My dog thanks you.
She had blue eyes,
Vulnerable, blue eyes
And they held him in their grasp
Gentleness lived there so much he had to gasp
And she never spoke; she never once spoke
Yet her eyes could easily jokingly poke
And raise the issue of man and woman
As the world floated past the two who were human
As they lay in a grassy field, in a soft and wavy grassy field
Their hands from the sun wide-open eyes did shield
And his protected hers so deep they were and so blue
As they lay in peace and in love so true.
She had blue eyes, deep, soft blue eyes
Vulnerable blue eyes.
Copyright 2/3/2015 Gordon Kuhn
I wish I knew how to play a harmonica. For that would be grand to sit on my porch and let the sound slip out towards the sky. I wish I knew how to play a violin, for that would be awesome as I love the sound of such. And then there is the guitar. What a wonderful song it can sing. At last I come to the piano. How fantastic a sound like a band singing all to itself with ups and downs of emotions that can only be reached and touched by a soul inflamed with the love of music. I’ve bought a dozen or so of those cheap harmonicas only to throw them out in time. Oh how I wish I could play the harmonica but its like the flute I have that lies dusty on the shelf and only is picked up when I wish to feel so foolish as to try.
THE WINO AND ME
Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn
All rights reserved. You touch I breaka your face.
Sittin’ in the sun
Looking for a spot of fun
Watchin’ young things wander by
No energy to even try
To strike up a conversation
And not into meditation
When up sat down a hairy faced dude
Lanky and looked as thin as a neon tube
And he said, “How’d you?”
“Mmm hmm, how’d do you do?”
He wobbled a bit.
“Mind if I sit?”
Copy Write 2011 by Gordon Kuhn
You will understand this event
While driving around looking for a parking spot,
bushes blocking the view,
slowed to make sure the way was clear
another car slid into view
And so I held my spot
‘till he then slid on past
but the shock of being startled spread across and on my face
led him to believe he could rooster walk
across my bow while I waited to drive into a space
that he now walked past and blocked
and all the while I wanted to kill the son-of-of-bitch
and the feeling went from bad to worse
when another driver took the spot I’d waited for
while he continued to give the look of threat
and I just wanted to smash his fucking face.
Oh no, not me.
So, our cars almost collided.
You dumb bastard driving there
beneath stars and a growing dark
there, while for safety slowing,
we in the busy parking lot.
You were going West
and I was going South.
I was aimed at a parking space
and you were searching too.
We had plenty of choices
so the problem was the view
that blocked us from seeing the other
which was the mother of the trouble
and the beginning of the problem stew.
as our noses both were spotted
by the other when the allotted
space between we two grew smaller
and in irritation you then took the lead
to pass before and park your stinking car
while I sat in escalating await
and in troubled contemplation
and wondered what next to do.
Then, oh then, you hopped out from your car
and stared at me with such a haughty daring look
which was book to that which challenge said
and God I wanted to smash your fucking head
‘til you be found listless and nearly dead
but for the wife, yes, the wife saved your life
you impudent son-of-a bitch
who walked with such a swagger
across in front of me
and dagger eyes placed them upon me
as if to say, “come on, you ain’t so tough”
ah, Christ, the promised land I dearly wished I could have led
you to and dropped you off in front of Jesus
whom I sure would have understood I just had to
answer that haughty swagger look
and close both your eyes
with fisted tattooed black and blue
but for the wife, I would have had my due with you
and fist tattooed a nice black and blue.