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

Is It Time

Are you ready for forgiveness,

  has that time finally come

 

You’ve done everything else in life,

  holding back on just that one

 

Is it time to say “I’m sorry,”

  for the hurt and pain you’ve caused

 

Is it time to shed false glory,

  and end this dreadful pause

 

Is it time to try and reconnect,

  with those loved ones that you left

 

Is it time your pride no longer hides,

  behind the grandest theft

 

Are the tears then real for what’s gone by,

  to which river do they flow

 

Has the time now come to stem the tide

  —and let your feelings show

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Living On The Surface

Living on the surface,

  dinner’s always served at eight

 

Living on the surface,

  pride forever casts your fate

 

Living on the surface,

  things always seem just fine

 

Living on the surface,

  plays an endless pantomime

 

Living on the surface,

  the church contains your soul

 

Living on the surface,

  your religion swallowed whole

 

Living on the surface,

  things never change that much

 

Living on the surface,

  you can only look, not touch

 

Living on the surface,

  the wheel only spins one way

 

Living on the surface,

  each spoke a mortgage pays

 

Living on the surface,

  love professes in a vow

 

Living on the surface,

  real commitment not allowed

 

Living on the surface,

  new doors stay locked and shut

 

Living on the surface,

  your reentry self-destructs

 

Living on the surface,

  your reflection flat and clean

 

While just below the surface

  —beats the heart of what things mean

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

My Hope

With chaos on my doorstep,

  reasoning befalls

 

With heartache as my calling card,
love though distant calls

 

All questions left unanswered,

  with time their holy grail

 

As seasons march to heavens step

  —my hope to then prevail

 

(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)

Wings To My Flight

A quarter of a million people

  read my poetry last year

 

Five hundred thousand eyes,

  five hundred thousand ears

 

I write every day with the

  humble knowledge of this

 

 To offer some solace,

   to be never remiss

 

They guide me much more

  than they ever will know

 

To help form the words

  that keep me in tow

 

I feel like I know them

  when I write late at night

 

As they call through the darkness

  —giving wings to my flight

 

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

Most Often Missed

Some things are unknowable as they are,

  and need an alias to come true

 

Some people only known through someone else,

  and you must look hard to see through

 

Not in hiding, but contained within,

  symbiotic they exist

 

To live and die within something else

  —a thing most often missed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

One Day Beyond Mourning

One day beyond mourning, a new sun to shine

 a promise remade—not a cloud in the sky

 

One day beyond mourning, your spirit still warm

your flesh now at rest—on the hill past the barn

 

One day beyond mourning, the bed sheets unfold

 your shadow uncovered—and now mine to hold

 

One day beyond mourning, the sun in my eyes

  new words in my heart—a mockingbird cries

 

One day beyond mourning, my soul free to roam

  your paintings surround me—among them I’m home

 

One day beyond mourning, I walk to the field

 our blanket still hanging—the oak that concealed

 

One day beyond mourning, I reset my sights

  the day I’ll rejoin you—that heavenly flight

 

One day beyond mourning, all will broken free

  my name on the wind—as you call out to me

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)