Poems from Kurt Philip Behm
Never writing to make the words pretty,
but the thoughts pure
Each breath a moment of time’s demise
—tomorrow gone
(Dreamsleep: April,...
In Spring I searched through rosy woodlands fair,
and kept the meadows secret within my heart
To wed the summer’s final wish to fall...
When man came out of nature's womb—God was born (Wiinnipeg Canada: September, 1992)
Artists reach beyond themselves,
to be more than who they are
The journey never at an end,
nor ever near—but far
(Dreamsleep: April,...
“Who’re you really” the Sage asked again,
that look upon his face
“It depends on who I’m looking at,”
I said, his eyes now glazed
“I’m...