Kurt Philip Behm

Heaven Sent (+4)

Wrapped inside a moment,

reasons tied the bow


Excuses thrown into the trash,

where wasted pleadings go


The gift of time majestic,

when given free of tense


A present there beneath your tree

—its treasure heaven sent


(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2019)



Time's Grip


Trapped inside a wasteland,

dying inch by inch


Slave inside a rusted heart,

feelings chained then lynched


Later now than yesterday,

earlier than goodbye


Spooled like thread that can’t be sewn,

the needle asking why


But time contorts, reversing,

trumpets call you home


Eyes unspoken, voice untouched,

senses all atoned


Words on fire with freedom stirred,

reasons scorched and bare


A silence brewing louder,

new light burns through the air


Eleven Angels fly as one,

and twelfth, you join their throng


With wings now soaring inward

—time’s grip left dead and gone


(Airplane To Seattle: March 8, 2017)




A False Infinity


Is your memory a circle,

or a trip straight out and back


A beginning and an ending,

or one continuous track


Do you see the same things going up,

that you pass when coming down


Is retention sealed and programmed,

by things going round and round


Without an ending where you stop,

or perhaps just one last verse


You rewind backwards to square one,

the past again rehearsed


This flux of motion holds you tight,

your perception never free


Serving both to mislead and to lie

—in a false infinity


(Seattle Washington: March, 2017) 



Something For Jimi



I had a date with the mountain



I made those promises impend



behind the shadow of my fear



—the devil smiled at me again


(Seattle Washington: March, 2017)




Only As Sacred


You want to define Poetry,

behind the safety of your bars


Open the door to your cage,

a world awaits, whose feathers tar


Dusty journals and how-to books,

no longer serve you here


The price of your admittance,

an acknowledgement of fear


With words only as strong

as the impression they leave


And feelings only as sacred

—as memory retrieves


(Seattle Washington: March, 2017)


  • Laura


    This, my second read of the day, is truly a ‘treasure heaven sent’! The good vibes I’m feeling right now will make today’s load much lighter!

    Thank you for sharing your magical pen!


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