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

If It’s Not One Thing…

First it was rain and then it was snow,

if it’s not one thing it’s another

 

Once in the dark and now in the know,

if it’s not one thing it’s another

 

The journey long, the destination obscured,

if it’s not one thing it’s another

 

Redemption the promise, damnation assured

—if it’s not one thing it’s another

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

What Conscience Is To Shame

Joplin was to Southern Comfort,

what Hendrix was to smack

Morrison was to masquerade,

what Dylan never lacks

 

Woodstock was to 69,’

what music was to rhyme

Saigon was to those who stayed,

what Auschwitz now reminds

 

Kennedy was to hopes and dreams,

what nightmares were to some

Castro was to leftist thugs,

what cymbals are to drums

 

Kissinger was to Nixon

an Appian Way to roam

Dr. King to civil rights,

what kings are to their thrones

 

Walter Cronkite was to news,

what context was to fact

Altar boys were to their Priests,

what pretzels are to snacks

 

58,000 were to die,

what a wall was to proclaim

58,000 were to all

—what conscience is to shame

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

To Herself Alone

The enigma of a woman veiled

in what you’ll never know

 

Despite those things she gives to you,

her secrets bide unshown

 

Your eyes may taste and hands might touch,

but to herself alone

 

Her power worn as though a crown

—her mystery, her throne

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)