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

Death’s Quota

The flowers all have scattered,

  borrowed feelings cry out loud

 

Mock funeral of celebration,

  grief false beneath their shrouds

 

The mourning congregation,

  to the tavern marched in step

 

A ruse to the departed,

  with each toast his memory wept

 

His friends then hugged his enemies,

  his wife and girlfriend kissed

 

Through the glass a raven watches,

  taking names without a miss

 

A ‘last call’ shouted boldly,

  and all glasses drained of lies

 

As two wings beat out a roll call

  —death’s quota flying high

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

 

What’s Now In Front

Is it Aerosmith or The Eagles for you,

  Republican or Democrat to vote

 

Is it Chinese takeout or Italian bistro,

  or the prose or poetry you wrote

 

Is it bland or spicy, thick or thin,

  as you struggle yet confused

 

Is it yes or nor, or God forbid maybe,

  what’s to gain and what’s to lose

 

Is it briefs or boxers, or none at all,

  is it Winter over Spring

 

Is it rock and roll, or blues or jazz,

  does it have to be one thing

 

Is it dogs or cats, or beer or wine,

  is the difference felt inside

 

When you choose just one, to eliminate,

  what your vanity tries to hide

 

Throw out the rules, pull off the mask,

  to your inner self be true

 

Force not yourself to choose between

  —but what’s now in front of you

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Imperfectly To Song

Like me,

 my Poetry is far from perfect

  —a verbal oxen gored

 

Like me,

 my words are often frail and broken

  —still crying to be heard

 

In me,

 the message has found its student

  —to humbly expound

 

In me,

 the truth can accept a birthmark

  —for a promise more profound

 

Unto me,

 the burden is left to finish

   —my life to pledge headlong

 

Unto me,

  the words now free, unsentenced

    —change imperfectly to song

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

 

 

Turned Into Song

How open is your window,

  how tall is your door

 

How old is your virtue,

  how slippery your floor

 

How fresh is your perception,

  how broad is your scope

 

How clear is your reflection,

  how real is your hope

 

How strong is your commitment,

  how deep is your well

 

How solid are your friendships,

  how many pray tell

 

How sweet is your melody,

  how lyrical the dawn

 

Will your words play a rhapsody

  —once turned into song

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)