Poems from Kurt Philip behm
Those Few
Everyone
is born unique
But many die
as clones
Lost of promise
Grace endowed
With joy bereft
a drone
Everyone
His image...
We dare not talk
of love
Time has robbed us
of its spark
Ever since when
to forever and then
We live in its shadow
— holding hands in...
Infidels Mourn
Fools gamble
cowards ramble
but wise men ponder
Alone in a crowd
silent out loud
a sage to wander
Through pathways...
Do images
free language
or a metaphor
to note
Whose words embrace
unmarried grace
that lives
beyond the rote
Can you espouse
that...
Two plus two equals four
— everywhere but the Halls of Congress
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)