Kurt Philip Behm

Summer 1962 \'The Time Of His Life\' (+7)

A twelve year old boy

stands covered in ‘mud’

 

What the plasterers call

cement

 

His Grandfather came

and offered a job

 

For each hour,

he’d pay fifty cents

 

The buckets were heavy,

the scaffolding high

 

As he kept those mortar boards

full

 

And at the end of that summer,

more man than a boy

 

With new confidence

—his future to cull

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

 

 

Home

 

At nineteen,

I wanted to live in Colorado

 

Till that first weekend I spent

in Cheyenne

 

At twenty-five

I wanted to live in Montana

 

Leaving Yellowstone,

as Glacier took my hand

 

At thirty,

I wanted to live in Alaska

 

Within Denali,

where the Kodiaks roam

 

But as the years have progressed,

I discovered

 

All I ever wanted to be

—was home

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

 

 

To Remember

 

My currency, my letters,

my legacy, their toll

 

Inscribed within the moment

—perpetually retold

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

 

Each Calling

 

Sleeping in the open air,

reconstitutes my soul

 

Walking through an empty space,

my spirit free to roll

 

Looking once but hearing twice,

each calling from above

 

Seeing clearly deep within,

—new messages of love

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

 

The Only Game

 

Looking forward,

looking back

 

Both now futile,

both distract

 

Past and future,

which to blame

 

This moments truth

—the only game

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

 

 

The Grip

 

Holding on to a memory

Holding on to a dream

Holding on ever tighter

Holding on—holding me

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

 

 

 

Fading To Nothingness

 

Logic and

Mysticism

Connect

When knowledge

Becomes

The absence of

Self

A man in the

End

Says one

Final

Goodbye

As birth and

Death

Fade

—to nothing at all

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

 

 

Unchained

 

What strips away

often more important

—than what we chase

 

What we discard

often the magic

—in winning the race

 

What we forgive

often the difference

—between joy and pain

 

And what we love

God\'s given key

—to a life unchained

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)