November 2019 – Image & Verse

Note By Note

Note by Note

music music is everywhere
the sound of music
can fill the air

it can slip right through the tiniest hole
it can fill a room
it can fill your soul

the power of music has great potential
its power to fill
is exponential

feeling deflated — hope won’t float
music will fill it up
note by note

it can fill the void in an empty life
it can obliterate sadness
eliminate strife

it can flow into the remotest part
filling full
a lonely heart

score or lyric in your favorite style
will fill your face
with a bursting smile

music is powerful and invasive stuff
but in this angry world
can there be enough

~ ~ ~

Click below to check out more poetry at dVerse:

Poetics: Sylvia and Ted

Gratitude & Balance

“Hybrid haibun with dual haikus.”

Gratitude & Balance

Precious mother Gaia, you embrace us with your love. You carry us safely as we hurtle thousands of miles, every hour, of every day, through infinite space. You provide for us our every need. You sustain our bodies with your abundant bounty. You nurture our spirits with your beauty and endless wonders.

seeds push seeking sun
sky pulls with precious spring rain
gaia yields new life

Your need is simple. That we live in balance with your rhythms, and with our fellow travelers on this amazing journey. You ask that we know gratitude, as humble stewards of your countless gifts. That we live in harmony, attentive and reverent. But we’ve grown arrogant. Foolishly we believe we have dominion over you, over all in your realm. In pursuit of intellect, feeding ego, we have lost our sense of equilibrium, lost our way.

Now we suffer, as we watch you suffer. Please forgive us. Be patient, do not forsake us. We can learn, as we must learn. Precious mother gaia, grant us time to again find our way, our humility, our center — to again find the gratitude, the balance.

we seek dominion
frail balance has been disturbed
gaia is weeping

~ ~ ~

Click below to check out more haibun of gratitude at dVerse:

Haibun Monday 11/24/19: Gratitude

After The Rain

”After the Rain” by: Cyril Rolando

After the Rain

you hit like a downpour
a thunderstorm of love
your kisses hot as lightning
striking from above

your passion was a tempest
I was swept up in its force
but now the winds have died
this storm has run its course

your moods now chilled and cloudy
no warmth after the rain
my heart puddles in sadness
this bad weather’s bringing pain

the fair winds may return
as might the clear blue skies
but my heart will ever yearn
to see the sun rise in your eyes

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE

Wordless

This was not a moment in my life when I was speechless, searching for the right words. I had no awareness of words, nor even of language. I was suddenly completely untethered, falling through a frigid void, with a building primal scream, roaring through my soul, fighting to escape.

Wordless

I still remember
when I got the strange hollow call
informing me my son had been killed

the disembodied voice on the other end
asked into the silence that followed
“sir, are you there?”

all that finally came forth
emanating from the pit of my being
was a coarse choking guttural wail
like the keening of a wild animal

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~ ~ ~

Click below to check out more poetry at dVerse:

Tuesday Poetics: Less is More, more or less

Day Breaker

“stream-of-consciousness rant”

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”Drinkin’ Thinkin’” by: rob kistner © 1997

DayBreaker

(hard-drinkin’, jazz-lovin’, workin’ man’s lament)
~

day breaks
on
a new week’s
sun

putrid
as the stains
on my
flesh-soaked
mattress

damp
as my sour
mat
of fevered
greasy
tangle

hot
as my
whiskey-foul
breath

another
un-commuted
sentence

6A-6P
’til
merciful dusk
delivers me

jack-knifed
into
my
jack and coke

don’t obsess
in sorrow

drown
all
‘da-way
down

a bottom-dive
to comatose

no virtue
feigned
nor
implied

mad goes
the struggle
‘til
saved by
jazz
48 over
‘da
dub-ya
hump

2
debauched
24’s
then
the hissing
sting
of monday
and
the mindless
6-6 grind
120 n’out

cruel numbers
game
goes
round round
and ever round
’til
the tombstone’s
tender
solace

~ ~ ~

Click below to see what’s being imitated at dVerse:

Imitation Practice

I’ve Had It!

Modified Tennyson imitation — nine lines with a rhyme pattern AABBCCCCC, and using four trochees per line, with a touch of surrealistic humor.

I’ve Had It!

don’t just stand there looking lazy
while this bunny thumps like crazy
help me fry it golden brownish
stuffing it in uncle’s sandwich
never liked that purple rabbit
acted poorly — now I’ve had it
sang off key each time I’d pet it
stole my shoes and uncle let it
now it’s lunch — and uncle ‘et‘ it

~ ~ ~

Click below to see what’s being imitated at dVerse:

Imitation Practice

Drifting Dreaming

SURREALISM: Pure psychic automatism by which it is intended to express, either verbally or in writing, the true function of thought. Thought dictated in the absence of all control exerted by reason…

Drifting Dreaming

I read minds
but pieces of me
stick to whomever
I deep delve

you may have seen me
silhouetted against your sky
in coldest January
howling
with the frozen moon

a duet
to make coyotes
cower in their dens

then moon and I run
from room to imaginary room
your whole world
close enough to touch

we eat a midnight lunch
perfumed with foreign lands
and your thoughts
onion layered

your thoughts
are too heavy to hold
show mercy
peel back the layers

peel me away
thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul

my thoughts

bonewhite lies
of morality plays
open for you to see

hope they’re not hideous
in your sight

hope they do not
make you cry
as you peel back
all the layers

onioned thought layers
held firm
like a carapace
to which
I’m stitched
and welded
and can no more leave
than you can enter

they tie me down
sometimes
but sometimes
barely so
survivor that I am

the inescapable optimism
in my barebones grin
flashes
in the brittle moonlight
exposing forgotten creases
and clandestine gateways
to your mind

someone can learn
a thing or two tonight
if someone
will ignite the light

~ ~ ~

Click below to see what’s surreally at dVerse:

Poetics: Surrealism in Poetry

Reverie

Reverie

sun sits low on the horizon
dusk slowly advances
night’s chill begins to settle
all the dreams have gone to bed

I sit quietly
close by this fire
soothed by its crackling glow
warmed by memories
that huddle ’round me

soul settled
heart full

~ ~ ~

Click below to see what’s crackin’ at dVerse:

Quadrille #92: Take a crack at poeming.

Bewildered Boy

Bewildered Boy~

born in dead of winter
under a darkling moon
at the waning of hearts

a bewildered boy-child
conceived in chaos
lacking heritage

moment man
in freefall of frustration
searching for foothold

abandoned nomad
longing for clarity
for a sense of identity

4C96DDAB-9E26-4C5E-A4F5-805A8A462DC1
Moon on 2/18/47, my birth night.

~ ~ ~

NOTE: I was born in 1947 in a post WWll Catholic orphanage. Mother unidentified and likely unwed. Father unknown. Having been abandoned from birth was a matter of much confusion for me in my troubled childhood, and into my young adult life. With the birth of my children I stopped looking back, and started looking ahead, finally understanding of, and thankful for the support of my adoptive parents.

Click each for more birth related and other poetry at dVerse:

Poetics: Let Us Labor

Thankfulness . . .

December Passion

December Passion~

It’s quiet in our home. Darkness has fallen early, as it does in deepest December. We cozy into the comforter, warm across our lap, gazing out our window at the moonlit forest. The fire quiets to ember in the nearby hearth.

Midnight’s snowfall shimmers through the boughs of old growth, invitingly elegant. As if spread by star clusters, it blankets our high-mountain meadow in crystal down. This night lay quiet and crisp. A great white owl echoes through the frosted cedars.

Lover and beloved, we entwine ‘neath winter’s window, with our dreams, and one another. You enfold closer, in gentle snuggle, a peaceful smile upon your face.

I’m remembering another resplendent December night. You, warm in my arms, the night we first kissed, embraced in darkness. Softly I whisper, “if it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant, as is our passion, my love.”

~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2019

Click for more Jane Kenyon influenced poetry at dVerse:

Prosery: Meet Jane Kenyon

February Rain

“Original version of this poem posted here on October 25th as “Come February”. It was in the 1st person. Rewriting this one in 3rd person, from my perspective, shifts the essence from feeling personally sad to feeling empathy for another.”

February Rain~

here he is
wishing wishes
for those days
when life made sense
thinking thoughts
that tear at him
for the things
he failed to be

how he does desire
the damp dreary days
of february
when his forlorned
fallen face
is commonplace

when no one intrudes
to question
what’s the matter
when they see
the tears he cries
there come no why’s

because all around
are caught up in the blues

oh if only
she could find it
in her heart

to forgive
this sadly lost
and broken man

who much too late
understands
he was a fool

and in his sorrow
understands
love will not stir

but how he wishes
ill-tempered weather
would occur

to drive the joyful
all around him
to indoor spaces

so he’d be spared
the pain
of smiling faces

and the bitter
bitter memory
of losing her

Click for more dVerse poetry:

Meet the Bar by changing your perspective

Wild Heart

“Originally written about a proud wild beast, I changed the perspective to being the beast. That change made the poem empowering for me, rather than just powerful.”

No — I will not be confined
always in motion
restless is my spirit
perpetual like the seas

my wild heart
challenges constraint
defies boundary
to bolt at will

I will not be defined
my nature is fluid
my essence turbulent
deep — ever changing

reach not for me
I will not be held
do not name me
I will not be yours

Poetry at: Earthweal

Crows of Castle Keep

“Castle Keep is my metaphor for the mind.”

Crows of Castle Keep

my contemplation on dementia

my memories gather and squabble
like the crows of castle keep
they pick the bones
of my recall

bones against the cruel clay
of an arid
barren mind

littered with the harsh forgotten
like the bones of the dinosaur
I’m becoming

struggling
with what letters are made of
my words crack and crumble

my thoughts
parch and wither

lonely silhouettes
against an unforgiving skyline

fading visions of my past
of my life
my home
of yesterday

harder and harder to remember
the degrees of separation
growing ever greater
smoldering in the fog
of my reflected past

splashes of vivid color
on scraps of paper
blown in the mounting winds
of my confusion

dread rising
that I will soon not remember
what it all meant to me
a stirring fear I will forget
lost in tormented emptiness
that all will go black

this is not just a poem
it is much more

this is a light
searching in blackness
for familiar things
for persons beloved
that I do not recognize

this is a fractured tome
a cry of frustration
a tear of loss
a whispered prayer

an epitaph
to my fading map of then

of cherished memories
that now falter
and dim

slowly slipping
unintelligible
into the cacophony
of the crows of castle keep

~ ~ ~

Click below to heck out more poems of blackness on dVerse:

dVerse Poetics: On Shades of Black

The Secret

from the dawn of awareness
through the dark times
beyond the ages of change
into these times

they have kept it
the keepers of the secret

and now
with great fortitude of will
to safequard frail truth
they must keep it still

~ ~ ~

Click for more dVerse poetry:

Quadrille #91 – Keep

Falling To Pieces

”I can’t see the end of me” by: Oladios

Falling To Pieces

oh dear
I fear
I have lost my heart

and along with it
a larger part

if I do not panic
but stay calm
instead
being careful
not to lose my head

if I can
look to the future
avoid the dread

it’s not hard to conceive
kitty I truly believe

though parts of me
have certainly
lost a bit
of fleshy tether

eventually
with what’s left
of me
I can finally

pull myself together

~ ~ ~

To check out more poems at Sunday Muse: CLICK HERE

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