Moments Left Unfelt (+4)

Kurt Philip Behm

I often sit here waiting,

for truant words to come

 

To chase the thoughts now fleeting,

messages on the run

 

These days I sit impatient,

as I wonder to myself

 

Are time and memory draining

—precious moments left unfelt

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

The Eyes Of A Child

 

Do you eat your own cooking,

do you live what you write

 

Do you enjoy your own company,

do you dream well at night

 

When you look in the mirror,

do you like what you see

 

Through the eyes of a child

—is your heart then set free

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

Their Power To Steal

 

The charlatans bankrupted

his checking account,

but his love was not overdrawn

 

Each check that he wrote,

each choice that he made,

trading ingots for righting a wrong

 

With credit denied

and spirit affirmed,

he continued to endorse what was real

 

Until bankers and lawyers

destroyed with one stroke,

his wishes—their power to steal

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

Blood That Wouldn't Yield

 

You thought that you could skip a stitch,

the thread provided free

 

You thought no one would ever notice,

just one small opening

 

The seam then weakened steadily,

threads loosened left and right

 

Excuses now unraveling,

Old Glory taking flight

 

The sinew given strong and taut,

to seal the danger out

 

But that one stitch you failed to close,

won’t mute the nightmare’s shout

 

Miss Ross is now in mourning,

as the stars have left the field

 

That one stitch you’ve forsaken

—draining blood that wouldn’t yield

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

Winter Comes Early

 

 Winter came early…

Its heavy coat

Sealing in the cold

The sky

More visible

Its view not the same

The blue faded gray

With distance in charge

And the wind

The wind never stops

The wind

Never whispers

Like in summer

Sneaking up from behind

Touching your neck

Reclaiming your soul

The winter wind

Pushes and shoves

With its fury

Knowing its time

Is not limitless

Frozen in desperation

Winter comes early

When thoughts cannot let go

And holds on tightly

Until the past says

Goodbye

Forcing you

Into the gray dawn

And the grayer noon

And the earlier

And earlier

Night

Sacrificing your

Reluctance

For a chance

To be free

For that one

Opening

To see

What’s never been there

You close your eyes

And step

Into the frigid wind

Arms extended skyward

Holding nothing back

Staring into

The face of death

Asking for life

Looking beyond

An eternity of doubt

To that place you can

Return

That place you now

Remember

As winter came early

—again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

 

 

  • Author: Kurt Philip Behm (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 15th, 2019 09:28
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 12
  • User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
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Comments1

  • Laura🌻

    Kurt,

    Enjoyed your three wonderful postings...
    especially, “The Eyes Of A Child”!

    ‘The eyes of a child’ reflect truth and innocence!

    ~Laura~



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