Kurt Philip Behm

Kindling The Fire (+1)

You can’t think your way

into a poem

Or feel your way

out of a verse


They first must conspire…

your spirit inspired

Words no longer forced

—or perverse





Are you digging a hole

you will never crawl out of,

a prison self-made by your hand

The metaphors mix

as you lie there betwixt

—the bars sinking into the sand


(Dreamsleep: April, 2021)



Hermit Of...


All my friends are

virtual online

Arms-length fraternal,

 distance sublime

Safe in my cave,

 with cursor in hand

Downloading affection

—beyond all demand


(The New Room: April, 2021)




To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.