Poems from Kurt Philip Behm
As a writer,
I create my own freedom
And as a writer,
I invent my own friends
As a writer,
I espouse my own truth
And as a writer,
my...
Each Poem wrought,
another day of
freedom bought
Each verse proclaimed,
one more abandoned
night renamed
Each line unleashed,
new light...
A stitch past nine on borrowed time,
memories come rushing back
The Wolf is feasting in Grandma’s bed,
Red Riding Hood a snack
A Cow...
Like leaves in the wind,
words scatter about
From the woods and high grass,
they call and they shout
“Come find us, come free us,
we’re...
Stricken with blame,
enamored by praise
My words caught between
—to travel both ways
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)