Author: Kurt Philip Behm

I am a lifelong author with 21 books published to date—one best seller. Much of my writing is about the deception of time and its many disguises. My Poetry 'An Anthology Of Perception,' is now available in four volumes. In addition I have a 175 page Poem 'After Midnight,' that was published in 2014. My Historical Fiction series, 'The Sword Of Ichiban' is now up to volume 8 which is being published this Spring ... Vol #1- The Sword Of Ichiban Vol #2- Darkening Sun Vol #3- Revenge Along The War Trail Vol #4- Death From The Sky Vol #5- Jumping Into the Darkness Vol #6- The Fall City Mandate. Vol #7- Approaching Storm Vol #8- Brothers In Blood One autobiographical novel, 'The Death Of The Playground' a Best Seller, published in 2007. One travel novel, 'Searching For Crazy Horse,' published in 2005, recapping my forty years of motorcycle touring in the American Rocky Mountain West. I have written one Children's Book, 'Sammy & Bumpers' that was published in 2016. All of my books are available at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and better Book Stores world wide. Kurt Philip Behm

Or Did It

It didn’t matter what the titles were,

but that I read them

 

It didn’t matter what the author said,

but that I listened

 

It didn’t matter that his verse trailed off,

the pages yellow and torn

 

It didn’t matter that the world forgot

—what one man put to words

 

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: October, 2020)

Leading The Blind

Republican or Democrat,

the wool has been pulled

 

Over the eyes

of a nation of fools

 

The truth is just fine

if we get it spoon fed

 

In our favorite flavor

self-served in our beds

 

While off in the distance

an Angel stands guard

 

Bemused at the folly

we ‘Stepfords’ regard

 

And as he takes flight,

looking down at the fray

 

Seeing into the future…

that reckoning day

 

When we kill one another,

without knowing why

 

Lost sheep running rampant

—redemption denied

 

(Garrett Hill Pennsylvania: October, 2020)

 

Petals Falling

I took health for granted,

my youth like a rose

 

To bloom in the present,

till thorns would depose

 

Attacking my body,

invading my mind

 

The sleep I’d grown used to,

much harder to find

 

Not a cold or a fever

for so many a year

 

No matter the weather,

with nothing to fear

 

But time is recalling

its card worn and thin

 

Infirmity threatens

—death budding within

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2020)