The woods never yawned
at the end of my stories
The streams never laughed
when I stuttered in haste
The mountains stood firm
when I lost my last footing
The sky understanding
in joy or disgrace
These natural things
forever behold me
Forgiving my weakness
rewarding my nerve
Their arms reaching out
through each change of the season
Pulling me onward
— my voice undeterred
(The New Room: March, 2025)
An Angels Reprieve
Stealing your thoughts
a crime of dispassion
the penalty fatal
my name stays unknown
A larcenous caper
whose felony looming
authorities chasing
though lost will they roam
Returning your musings
a word to each notion
attached and delivered
through eyes that retake
Enlightened resplendence
unfenced by Jehovah
no borrowers promise
— this thief ever makes
(The 1st Book Of Prayers: March, 2025)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: March 3rd, 2025 09:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
To have nonjudgmental acceptance is such a strength both to give and as a receiver. Lovely write
Thanks. There's a spot above Hoback Junction Wyoming that's
calling my name ...
Excellent write Kurt
Thanks again, Tony.
You're welcome
Nature is indiscriminate isn't it? I have always lived close to the Appalachian Trail and hiking it (never in full) has always been a part of my life. There are certain areas along and off the trail in certain spots that I have discovered and return to. Just to sit, think, write, sketch, compose...just be. This poem brought me to such places. Thank you for that. 🌹👏
My pleasure, Tristan. Thanks
You're welcome, my friend!
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