On a barstool
somewhere
in a lost America
with a stranger
who calls me friend
All options
dwindling
my fate in his hands
—and nearly at the end
(Choteau Montana: Ranger Jacks Bar, August 2004)
On My Sleeve
I know more things
than I can tell
The water deep
within my well
I wish for more
than hope can stand
Obeying Thee
—my heart commands
(From 'The Book Of Prayers': August, 2020)
The Threshold
My door is made of solid bronze
but doesn’t have a lock
Patina’d with the stain of blood
from all the battles fought
It swings upon a rusted hinge
and creaks when open wide
To welcome back the future-past
the present safe inside
(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
The Devil's Ear
Cheating death…
the myth we tell
—when life seems all the more
(Villanova University: August, 2020)
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Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: August 29th, 2020 11:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 35
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
Offline)
Comments2
Kurt,
• “One Last Drink”
That stranger who called you friend was a blessing in disguise. Glad he was there for you.🙏🏻
• “On My Sleeve”
This one resonates loud and clear.
Thank you for sharing.
Laura🌻
Thanks so much, Laura.
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