Kurt Philip Behm

Pulling Me Onward (+1)

The woods never yawned

at the end of my stories

The streams never laughed

when I stuttered in haste

The mountains stood firm

when I lost my last footing

The sky understanding

in joy or disgrace

 

These natural things

forever behold me

Forgiving my weakness

rewarding my nerve

Their arms reaching out

through each change of the season

Pulling me onward

— my voice undeterred

 

(The New Room: March, 2025)

 

 

An Angels Reprieve

 

Stealing your thoughts

a crime of dispassion

the penalty fatal

my name stays unknown

 

A larcenous caper

whose felony looming

authorities chasing

though lost will they roam

 

Returning your musings

a word to each notion

attached and delivered

through eyes that retake

 

Enlightened resplendence

unfenced by Jehovah

no borrowers promise

— this thief ever makes

 

(The 1st Book Of Prayers: March, 2025)