Sacred

A hike into the Cascade Mountains, in image and verse.

Author’s note: It was a beautiful day for hiking here in Oregon, so I made a trek into the Mt. Hood wilderness — camera in hand, notebook and pen in my shirt pocket. This is my day, shared with you here, in image and verse. The photo is a shot of Lost Lake, through the trees, with Mt. Hood in reflection.

lostlake2.jpg

Sacred

•

my footfalls
drum the root chambers of the old growth

each step cushioned
by centuries of needle-drop
in this ancient forest

enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I amble

feeling the smoothness of my walking stick
clutched comfortably in my right hand

an audible stir in the treetops

wind
wafting down the western Cascade slopes

invigorating

the steady rhythm of my footsteps

hypnotic

rounding a bend
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop

mesmerized

light drifts down dreamlike
filtered by the woodland canopy
settling golden around me

a power
a presence
is tangible

a breeze enfolds me

intoxicating

the scent of living earth
an addictive bouquet
cedar
Douglas fir
Ponderosa pine
moss
bark
loam
and ionized mountain air

my spirit rises
my being – weightless

I float away
lifted into oneness
wholeness

epiphonal

suddenly
I’m startled

a young doe bounds onto the trail
standing proud
golden in the light

she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time

my eyes dart to find her
here then there
in vain

I catch a glimpse
silver-blue
shimmering
where massive trees part

wind-blown mountain water
crisp
clear
it sparkles

Lost Lake
the namesake of this trail
my reason for this trek into wilderness

climbing a boulder at trail’s edge
I sit
pull my legs under me
lean forward
elbows on knees

I face lake-ward
basking in the energy
of this natural cathedral

I become very still
listening
gazing

just being

in rapt wonderment
at the magnificence that surrounds me

this place is my church
this moment is my prayer

I am in touch with my soul

with the eternal

• • •

rob kistner © 2007


Passion Fire

A hot little poem about one of my “first times” 😉 — photo included.

Passion Fire

•

I will not forget you
my memory still burns
with tearful recollection

remembrance of the first time
my eyes fell upon your
luscious curves

skin smooth as satin
aglow in golden orange
as you lay before me

seductive in the summer sunset

you torched my imagination
ignited my spirit
fired my soul

I wanted you so badly
to fondle you with fingertips
caress you with trembling lips

you promised such sweetness

but I’d been warned

by others who had dared partake
of your fiery charms
that it would end in tears

but I did not heed the counsel

in the heat of seduction
I fell upon you hungrily
taking you passionately

the moment of our union flared
hot as lava
scorching as an August sun

I was swept away
as I consumed your charms
aflame with desire

tasting your forbidden fruit
in a wanton blaze
I took my fill

but just as quick it ended

I should have listened
they knew you all too well

alas, you burned me badly
and only left me crying

but I never will forget you

— habanero… or your chili soul

• • •

habanero-chile-smlweb.jpg

rob kistner © 2007

NOTE: The habanero is reputed to be one of the hottest chili’s on the planet!

Swoon!

swoon-large-art-web.jpg

Rob Kistner © 2007

SWOON!

•

Eyes glide luxurious flesh,

tracing the soft edge of dark and light

where the moon fondles your form,

folding itself upon you through the open window.

Eyes embrace full measure your lyrical essence,

lost in the silken tangles of your hair,

radiant in back-light,

fanning in soft wisps your graceful neck.

Eyes linger on eager bud of tender breast,

pause, entranced by the velvet flower

sensuously shadowed in satin cleft,

where supple limb meets supple limb.

Enraptured by this vision, sweet aglow,

I swoon, and swell to bursting – intoxicated!

To hear poem read by author, click here

Rob Kistner © 2007

Yahtz