Blank verse
And blanker memories
My mind shouts
As feelings die
Blood drains
An artery is cut
Flowing with the seasons
—stain never to dry
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)
Its Treasure Calls
Nostrils fill with wood smoke,
a mountain spewing lies
Fifty miles up the trail,
its legend waves goodbye
Lost Dutchman in my memory,
the map no longer clear
While buried deep inside the truth
—its treasure calling dear
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)
Last Curtain To Fall
The older I get
The less people to call
Is it by choice
My spirit’s downfall
The older I get
The less then to care
A life once so pointed
With little to share
The older I get
Beginning to end
The ones that stood by me
The ones I called friends
The older I get
Meat gone from the stew
The faces just names
Of those I once knew
The older I get
Doors lock from within
A constant reminder
The blaming now stings
The older I get
The less people to call
No sand in the hourglass
—last curtain to fall
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2014)
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Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: July 22nd, 2017 11:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments2
I read all, loved all, but the last stanza of the last poem is the one that stayed in my mind!
My Grandmother lived to be 99, and that was something she said to
me all the time. She had outlived all her friends.
Thanks Fred
Kurt
She was a smart and wise woman, and some of that smartness and wisdom must have ended up in your genes thanks to her!
Thanks, Fred
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