She is not
lonely
But makes all
who smile upon her
— lonely indeed
She is not
mournful
But makes all
who implore her
— cry like a child
She is not
boastful
But makes all
who look upon her
— beat on their chests
She is not
faithful
But makes all
who desire her
— pledge from the heart
She is not
vengeful
But to ever
betray her
— the gravest of sins
She is not
quiet
But from the depths
of her emptiness
— silence is born
(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)
Freeing The Kobold
Escaping the prose …
I hid in the verse
My mind to compose
instead of converse
Defying description
I sang through the notes
And placed my inscriptions
in lyrical rote
I chose to hear music
over reasons again
To dine with the mystics
where forever begins
But when forcing my pen
back to stories untold
The Muse through the darkness
— sets free the kobold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Online) - Published: October 13th, 2025 09:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, sorenbarrett
Online)
Comments3
Kurt, this is haunting…a litany that feels like scripture turned inside out. Each stanza deepens her mystery until silence itself feels divine. Absolutely gripping work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
It's singularly my favorite place on earth. God willing, I plan on dying at the South Rim.
I love your title on this one in that for white culture it was the Spanish that came across it first, when Captain Garcia Lopez de Cardenas saw it in 1540. Long known by native Americans it was respected by them. I have seen it myself on various occasions but never ventured into it. A lovely write Kurt that tells it all. A fave
October has that effect on me, thanks.
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