Unbetrothed

Kurt Philip Behm

Seduced

by what I hadn’t done

Engaged

to what I’d never wed

Married

with vows I wouldn’t take

Divorced

from what I couldn’t leave

 

(Dreamsleep: May, 2022)

 

 

Northern Winds

 

Roses bleed

their petals bare

Thorns gone missing

pickings rare

 

Crimson anguish

garden sown

Season desperate

roots bemoan

 

Roses bleed

their fragrance spoiled

 Lovers search

as stems recoil

 

Cold breaths gather

 northern winds

 Seeds of hope

—to plant again

 

(Radnor Pennsylvania: May, 2022)

  • Author: Kurt Philip Behm (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 9th, 2022 14:33
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 13
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    (Brilliant!
    just jumped in-to my feeble
    poetic reply, forgive me
    it's so rare for me to read your poetry
    this days, I get a little - too
    excited
    whenever you afford me the opportunity..
    thank you, dear Poet!)
    Is it by jewellery or vows
    we wed?
    Or were we wed, when mind
    relented and heart
    was empowered to cement
    via eyesight's
    soul engraved, contracts..
    and
    When, does our wedded status
    get expunged from our veins;
    at divorce courts
    at child visitation, days
    or
    at that moment, when
    the world itself, hears
    our very heart's, thunder and crack
    like an earthquake
    stemming from the very core of earth
    because that's where we keep
    the second copy of our soul
    contracts...
    'When and Where?'
    (' Roses bleed
    their fragrance spoiled
    Lovers search
    as stems recoil

    Cold breaths gather
    northern winds
    Seeds of hope
    —to plant again')
    this, those soul seeds of hope
    drenched in our crimson, defiance
    this, humanity's
    strength, of willingness to survive
    defined!
    this, be life
    at its nuclease of beauty and truth:
    'O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
    Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
    With forest branches and the trodden weed;
    Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
    As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
    When old age shall this generation waste,
    Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
    Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
    "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all
    Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
    (from Keats' Ode on A Grecian urn:
    https://mypoeticside.com/show-classic-poem-14542
    )

  • Kurt Philip Behm

    Wonderful commenting again, LB.

    Honored

    Kurt



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