Wednesday, April 4, 2012

NaPoWriMo - April 4th

April is National Poetry Writing Month. In celebration of poets everywhere, and to encourage those who are just embarking on their literary journey, I will be posting poetry (not mine) each day for the month of April. Please take a look and enjoy this special art.

Gordon Kuhn


Gordon Kuhn resides in Florida with his wonderful wife and best friend: Jan. He is a disabled Vietnam veteran who began writing while in the United States Marine Corps. He has had humorous articles published in professional business valuation/accounting journals. His poetry has been published on several internet sites, in a literary magazine that is published quarterly by the Peppertree Press in Sarasota, FL, featured in You Tube videos, and in blogs in the United States and in England. More of Gordon's poetry can be found on his blog: Gordon Writes


March 6, 2012 
Copyright 2012 by Gordon Kuhn 
All rights reserved. 

She sat alone in the cool darkness,
alone on a leather bench seat,
in a tavern where she used to meet
a chosen, special friend.
That was after the beginning, and before the end,
before the birth of the lonely starkness
before the sudden chilling darkness.
Now … purple nights dominate the day
for her love had failed to stay,
but left her alone in the silent darkness.
Alone with the cold and lonely starkness
of purple nights left to dominate the day.


Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn 
Poet in the Rain Productions 

My mind is seduced. My heart is bursting.
The rush of words is tearing at my soul.
The sound of whispered secrets in my ears
Drives me parched and thirsting
Surrounded by joys, surrounded by fears,
Naked, lost in a rapture so overpowering, so over towering
Their strength of attack is showering me with an essence so grand
I cannot maintain a hold on the reality that surrounds this fragile place where I stand
How can I explain for I am swept away and swirled into the torrent
So caught up in the whirlpool ecstasy of the moment with a special warrant
Allowing me direct access to the thrill of hearing music in poetry
The flood where I cannot drown but where I feel so strangely inclined
To stand with outstretched arms in what others would see as emptiness
But for my vision I see all and to let my body launch my soul
Into the facing, driving of the onslaught of the unseen wind
And to step into space embraced by the soft tenderness of the music
While staggered by the violence of the tones hammering at my very person
Enraptured by the musical qualities so well defined
That lift and caress, and allow me to float so confined
While falsely struggling to be free of such charm
Never fearing any invisible suggestion of harm
That wraps me in an invisible cloak of steel entwined.
The very rapture that tears like an orchestra of sounds at my heart and my mind,
The rush, the words, the heights and lows of sound,
All working and spinning me in a whirl of wonderment around
And amid all this my mind is seduced and my heart is bursting.
Poetry swarms through my thoughts, my soul is overwhelmed and in ecstasy
Caught up in the symphonic orchestration that I alone can hear and feel
As the movements cause me to float higher
In the mists that surround me until like a fire
I lay spent for that glorious flame has consumed all there is to consume
And all that remains are a few glowing embers left to softly light the still and empty room 

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