Poetry | THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Tag: Poetry
- 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
  And 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
- TIMES
  
  Posted at 11:08 pm by Gordon, on June 28, 2018
  There are times at night when I find myself in deep sleeping
  And then in ghostly form, I catch myself somehow strangely competing
  With memories compressed, forgotten, somehow caught in the whirl of haunted strife
  While dealing with the ups and downs of a confused and struggling life
  And discover that I am lying in a pool of emotional blood caused by too much thinking
  While somehow fighting my way to the surface from the depths of dreaming
  Trying to understand the grouping and the linking
  That raced just moments before in a strangely disturbed streaming
  Where questions come forward in a rush of issues all claiming
  The time I cannot afford to relinquish and so I stand there alone and straining
  Against the will of memory over logic denying a peaceful desire for a simple life
  Forgetting the errors of my life so fervently causing pain in their haunting.
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  Posted in POET, Poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged Poetry, Poets, Writing
- 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
- ONCE A BOY
  
  Posted at 11:20 pm by Gordon, on June 16, 2018
  ONCE A BOY
  There once was a boy who lived on a boat
  The boy was small and the boat was not
  Upon a sea of strange waters sailed the two
  The boy and the boat until one day the boy forgot
  That the boat would float and he would not.
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  Posted in POET, Poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged Poetry, Poets, Writing
- SHE HAD FAME
  
  Posted at 6:02 pm by Gordon, on June 16, 2018
  SHE HAD FAME
  No one knew her name
  This simple woman who walked alone
  In the rain and sun, she walked alone
  On Sarasota’s streets, she walked alone
  And no one knew her name
  She walked in light and in the dark
  She walked in sun and in the rain
  But one knew her name, but she had fame
  As she walked barefoot and alone
  She had local fame as she walked alone
  This woman who had no name
  In a dress that was a hand-down
  From a local church charity store
  Where they didn’t know her name
  In the rain and sun on Sarasota’s streets
  She walked until death closed her eyes
  One night when the rain fell along her way
  And the wind drove others off the streets
  She was there when death claimed no name
  And no one was there as she fell on her path
  And there she lay until the break of day
  This woman without a name
  But death came, found her with its cold hand
  A wet bundle in the rain found with a cold hand
  And claimed her without knowing her name
  This woman who walked alone without a name.
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  Posted in POET, Poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged Poetry, Poets, Writing
- NIGHTFALL, THE LOVERS’ DANCE
  
  Posted at 2:24 pm by Gordon, on June 14, 2018
  NIGHTFALL, THE LOVERS’ DANCE
  I recall the night when the rain came
  And settled in bringing a coolness to the room
  Where two lovers met and never were the same
  In an apartment in downtown Sarasota
  Where they danced to a scratchy record on a player
  While drinking stale beer in a dim light
  From the only bulb left working
  And somewhere in the world a wall was being torn down
  Somewhere a child was being born
  Water dripping from pipes to the foundation two floors below
  Somehow they found each other and in a simple embrace
  Shared the last cigarette in a crushed pack tossed to the floor
  While singing a song neither knew.
  
  © 2018 Poet in the Rain: Gordon Kuhn
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  Posted in POET, Poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged Poetry
- The Never Meeting of Lovers
  
  Posted at 11:09 am by Gordon, on May 17, 2018
  The Never Meeting of Lovers
  
  I never met you in the past
  I’ll not meet you in the future
  I won’t meet you today
  Such is life; such is the nature of our souls
  But we can sing together
  We can sing about our love
  If we ever meet and should casually hold hands
  While remembering that we had one day met
  And hope the memory of meeting one day in the future
  Will forever last in song, one written by you and me
  Written in the wonder of meeting
  As you in my bed would be offered a gentle greeting
  While the world outside our door will swing and sway
  To the sound of our song written just today
  And I’ll sing a song I wrote just for you
  While we dance our way into the memory of today
  As your holding my hand in yours will surely nurture
  My desire for closeness and kisses that will forever in memory stay
  And we can sing together of a sweet and gentle love
  I never met you in the past
  I’ll not meet you in the future
  We’ll not meet today
  But how can I ever forget you or this song
  Somehow we’ll go on as I alone will stay
  In my memory of you in our fleet meeting
  Such is life; such is the nature of our souls.
  
  Copyright 5.17.18 Gordon Kuhn, All rights
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  Posted in Love, memories, Poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged Poetry
- Retouch: I Recall at 2 AM
  
  Posted at 10:06 pm by Gordon, on May 15, 2018
  Retouch: I Recall.
  
  It’s two o’clock in the morning
  And I recall her lying nearby me
  In the dark sweating there from our lovemaking
  We came together in the long ago
  Two lonely bar drunk new best friends
  In a town so very far from here
  It’s two o’clock in the morning
  And I can smell her hair even now with its light perfume
  As it was crushed up by my face
  Curls so wet, soft and fragrant in the nighttime air
  As she drew close in the dim light from a street light
  At the corner where rain spattered on the cracked concrete
  By the post near the ruts in the road
  And the trash lying in the gutter nearby
  A soft contented purr coming from deep within her
  And we laid there sweating in the dark
  Not knowing each other and yet in some way we did
  Someway we were kin from mothers never met
  Aglow from lovemaking in the middle of the night
  And outside we could hear the cars on the rain-swept street
  There was no air conditioning in that apartment
  One bedroom, a kitchen, and old couch in the front room
  And we never knew what we’d find in the hall in the morning
  When we opened the door to the world
  And we’d step over some drunk lost on his way home
  But it’s just two o’clock in the morning
  And we hear the stumbling, cursing coming from down the hall
  As someone tries a key in the wrong door and then noisily slips to the floor
  Too drunk to walk further and sleep claims another lost soul
  And I recall the sweetness of her lying nearby
  In the dark sweating and so tired we were wrapped together
  Exhausted from our lovemaking with only the moon looking on
  Peaking in from the window with the cracked glass and weathered frame
  And the floor near the bed beneath the open window was wet from the rain
  And the moon shining into the room at 2 o’clock in the morning
  Was the only witness to our love as we lay there together in the moonlit dark
  Too tired to talk, too tired to sleep, and out of beer
  A crushed cigarette pack lying in the corner near an empty can
  But I recall how we loved that night
  And then parted as friends
  Each going our separate ways
  But I recall that night — I wonder, does she? — Wherever she is?
  Does she ever recall at two o’clock in the morning how we loved
  How we loved thru that thunder and lightning packed summer storm
  And we laid in our passion covered with sweat and out of beer gone hot
  As the refrigerator in that apartment didn’t work
  But it didn’t matter, not in the passion we shared
  And the beer was gone and the cigarette pack was empty on the floor
  Bed sheets pulled free and lying in a heap about us
  Our bodies naked and gleaming with the wet of love making
  In the moonlit dark of night with a street light shining lightly in
  Does she recall?
  It was two o’clock in the morning and I loved her
  Whoever she was — sadly I don’t recall her name.
  
  Copyright Gordon Kuhn
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  Posted in Love, Poetry | 1 Comment | Tagged Life, Poetry
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Tag: Poetry

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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Posted at 11:08 pm by Gordon, on June 28, 2018

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

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Posted at 11:20 pm by Gordon, on June 16, 2018

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Posted at 6:02 pm by Gordon, on June 16, 2018

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Posted at 2:24 pm by Gordon, on June 14, 2018

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Posted at 11:09 am by Gordon, on May 17, 2018

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Posted at 10:06 pm by Gordon, on May 15, 2018

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