Until you truly answer the question,
“Why do I write poetry”
You’ll never really wed the verse,
—your copyright estranged
(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)
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
Harlot Of Love
He asked her why she acted so,
her answer was “Why not”
He asked her why her mood was vile,
she said “That’s all I’ve got”
He asked her then about their love,
gone missing and in doubt
She answered back while looking down,
a whisper not a shout…
“I loved you once, I loved you twice,
but then my heart went still
“I saw you change, your passion feigned,
your warmth a distant chill
“I gave you everything I had,
you strayed and looked for more
“Now emptiness has wed my heart,
—and loneliness your whore
(Bryn Mawr College: February, 2020)
Voices Call
Head unbowed,
heart impaled
Memory old,
Celtic tales
Allegiance sworn,
fealty burned
Voices call
—freedom churns
(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)
Epiphany’s Light
If only genius could be contagious,
like chicken pox or flu
If only brilliance could be transferred,
like a bank draft overdue
If only insight could be replayed,
like a Mozart symphony
Then epiphany’s light would shine on all
—in communal rhapsody
(Ashbridge Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
The Boat Rocks
Nothing more defended
than the status quo
To protect and covet,
never let go
Attacked by outsiders,
heels to dig in
Rocking the boat
—water within
(Ashbridge Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
Last Chance
Dead to himself,
he stepped on the ice
Cracks beginning
to form
Transcendence rejected,
skating a path
In search of time
forlorn
Crossing each memory,
forgiveness in sight
Each step,
a weighted cost
Redemption melting,
all hope in denial
Last chance
—to come across
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
Nothingness Calls
Leading from today
into the past
Present state of mind
destroyed
The future an orphan,
waiting disowned
Hell’s pathway
—to the void
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
Heaven Waits
Counting spaces between the notes,
the music came alive
The melody deepened, the band on fire,
all bees had left the hive
Breathing in one fast refrain,
my lungs too full to stop
An Angel melts his pearl baton,
the Sirens blazing hot
New sounds created, harp destroyed,
the clouds all push apart
As heaven waits for one last riff
—to claim my beating heart
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
With Tears
He who cries the loudest,
suffers the most guilt
The eyes of destiny staring back
—the past with tears rebuilt
(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)
Fried Oysters
When I got to Heaven,
God was gone
His desk cleaned out,
the Angels pawned
Not one scant sign,
he was ever there
Eviction notice,
pinned to his chair
My ride had left,
my ticket torn
No place to stay,
my hopes forlorn
Looking down,
I saw the truth
The clouds were empty,
destitute
All tenets followed,
a promise made
Those things I dreamed of,
the church forbade
So here I stay,
imprisoned high
No pearly gates
—the oysters fried
(Rosemont College: February, 2020)
