Many Are Called (+2)

Kurt Philip Behm


has no doorbell


has no ring

The call redemptive

from inside

Where Angels

— flock to sing


(1st Book Of Prayers: March, 2024)



Distant Hooves



faded glory

the polo field



Of years

of fleeting greatness

and hopes that lived

in kind


A child walks

the ball field

where ponies

used to tread


With memories

buried deep below

their grandeur

— all but dead


(The New Room: March, 2024)



Darkness Waits


She whispers in the night

to waiting dreamers


She whispers in the night

where tears have shed


She whispers in the night

to hearts abandoned


She whispers in the night

— and wakes the dead


 (Ryszard & I: March, 2024)



  • Author: Kurt Philip Behm (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 31st, 2024 09:54
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 5
  • User favorite of this poem: Alan R.
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