Month: March 2009

Skyward

 

…photo below entitled “Followed by a Dream”, by Pensiero…

Skyward

•

if I could but glide
to the top of these stairs
like a bird in flight

I would soar skyward
in sweeping circles
lifted on mighty thermals

I would not be earthbound
not a prisoner of these steps
not captive by gravity

and… I would not return to work

this afternoon would be soaring
and swooping
and giving thanks
for feathers and hollow bones

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

…poem inspired by a different photo from Pensiero, the individual who created the photo seen in read write image #12, found at “readwritepoem”

 

Elders

IMG_8654

 

Elders

____

reason’s blaze burned brightly
now nearly spent

insight’s coals cool
grow ashen
yet the core still dances deep amber

your flame of logic
once a vivid light
that pierced the darkness of ignorance
and narrow vision

that flared radiant
sparking inquiry

that shone as a bold beacon
a seeker’s torch
reduced now to ember

but still warming those
who draw near
and stir your smoldering wisdom

____
 
rob kistner © 2009

 

Love & War (two poems)

 

Love & War

 

The Nightmare

•

my eyes

crisp from the day’s cruel sun
burnt by devastation’s fires
scorched by images of relentless horror

take refuge
in this late-evening fog
settling heavy as a shroud

clinging
opaque
mercifully obscuring

I am sustained
by this damp pall
that descends cool upon me

wraps ‘round my pained countenance
fevered with fatigue
twisted with despair

drawn
by a faded memory of honor
a faint echo of duty
a frayed thread of human dignity

I stumble
broken by this sin I shoulder

not of my making
but of my charge

my sin

unleashed by others
who would impose their delusions
to advance their evil agenda

those who would rule the world

a world now broken
corrupted by their illusions
spoiled by their vanity

a world in chaos
as darkness deepens

this nocturne
I have but this ruin-riddled
highway of blood

of dying dreams
violated innocence
merciless destruction

of horrific death

this path of my duplicity
of my guilt
my shame

and so
I stumble on
bent by the weight of this falling evening
drowned in its drenching sorrow

my spirit hollow and empty
I slink exhausted
into this coming night
and
the next night
and
the night that follows
that always follows

captive on this road of murder
of brutal
human
arrogance

a prisoner
of this lost highway

seeking forgiveness

• • •

 

The Return

•

distant
slurred
reverberant

like a voice in a canyon
I hear you calling
from the past

my name
rolling sweet as nectar
from your lips
soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach

glistening deep coral
as they wrapped softly
‘round each pouted syllable
when you bid me tender farewell
so long ago

our fingertips had strained to grasp
until the final sensation of warmth
of touch
had faded

and they drifted apart

I had struggled
to tear my eyes from your tears
that glistened on your lashes
and around your swollen eyes
blue as a deep summer sky

to slip softly
over the crests of your velvet cheeks
down the contour of your face
flushed as sunset
to lightly salt your quivering lips

numb and dazed
I tunneled down the loading gate
toward the jet
that took me to hell

in those final moments
I locked the image
of your sorrowed face of love
deep in my heart

there it lives as my salvation
my only grasp on sanity
in these horrific years

my lips too
had quivered on that day
from the sting of separation

from the chilling knowledge
I would soon taste
the bitter blood of war
foul with the stench of death

not yet departed
I had longed
on that day
to gaze once more
into your brilliant blue eyes
and taste your sweetness on my lips

as I return this day
trying to face reality at 30,000 feet
I taste the salt of sadness

I fear a kiss from me
with my killer’s mouth
will forever defile
the fragile innocence of your lips

soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach

that glistened
and quivered
when last we parted

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

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…photorendering entitled “Blood Orchid” by: rob kistner © 2008

 

The Shine

 

 

The Shine

•

I sit

watch the flow of people

the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes

I see wan faces
of unsmiling lips
their void curves denounce this night

yet unseen
is the gossamer curtain’s fall
that defines their soul’s duality

the divergent reality
through which truth stumbles blind
to move in the world
rough as a rope
taut as every promise made

frayed as wisdom
leaned in
whispered from behind

grab at time like dropped money

I might learn something tonight
if someone will release the light
so I can shine like a child
who likes ice cream most of all

this child reads old men’s minds
and notices the shoes
the belts all made of leather

I feel a shiver
of sad imbalance
a confliction in my soul

so I will watch the shoes
and practice non-attachment
because I can

but pieces of me
stick to whoever gets too close

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

then moon and I sneak
through fate’s construct
among cages of studs & trusses
we run

from room to imaginary room
the whole world close enough to touch

we eat a midnight lunch
of damaged bread
seasoned by caution
and foreign lands
with onioned thoughts
layered deep

show mercy
peel back the layers

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

I hope I am not ugly in your sight

these thoughts
become too heavy to hold
to tough to chew or swallow

my thoughts

bone-white lies of morality plays
open for you to peek

hope they are not ugly in your sight

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

onioned
thought
layers

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

they tie me down
sometimes
but sometimes barely so

inescapable optimism
in my barebones grin
flashes in the brittle moonlight

a stranger comes to where I sit
to see

his stare
blinds the stars from my eyes

behind his fey smile
his radar dreams
scan the forgotten creases
and clandestine getaways
in my mind

standing over
he peers down
with probing gaze

one of us will learn
a thing or two this night

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

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…photorendering entitled “Cornered” by: rob kistner © 2008

 

Union

 

…inspired by a prompt at Sunday Scribblings, this is essentially a spontaneous first draft of a piece I’ve written featuring a current ‘self’ talking to a past ‘self’ seeking union as a better future ‘self’…

…I will continue to edit this work in place here until I am satisfied with it…

…here is edit #1 in which I create a one-on-one conversation between ‘past self’ (bold) and current ‘self’ (italics) – the original draft of the piece follows this edit #1…

Union

edit #1 draft

•

there is a darkness
slinking
in the corridors of yesterday

you have known its presence
encountered its essence
felt its grip

it frightens me
because it is me

a bygone you

but it frightens me
because it is

because it is so devious
debilitating

all-consuming
if granted license

it lurks in shadow
collecting

collecting the dark matter
that steals into my life

Continue reading Union

Supple Soul

 

…photo below entitled “Strange Fruit”, by Lucas Rocha…

Supple Soul

•

rise up now

clad in colors
of a joyful life

rebuke the strife

tilt against convention

the prevailing norm
is a toxic storm

buck the winds of brute rebuff

stare down the face of ridicule
if buffeted by cruel
condemnation
from the foolish
sadly blown off course

be not inclined to fear
nor falter
choose instead
to tame the dread

to stay ones ground
leaning hard on raw conviction

be anchored bold
and deeply hold
to the genuine
do not resent

remain flexible
to withstand the blows
of frightened those
who would see you swayed
and have you bent

your broken spirit
for so to savor

stand head high
back straight
don’t ever waver

but never rigid
brittle
prone to break

do not forsake
your heart song

wisdom is a supple soul
skewered through
by true enlightenment

pierced clean and strong
by wonder
bleeding hope
and justice

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

…poem inspired by read write image #11, seen above, found at “readwritepoem”

 

The Hunger

 

 

The Hunger

•

filled with passion
you gaze longingly
upon the tender treat
that’s spread before you

waiting

the flesh is soft
and moist
and pink
as slowly you penetrate

then gently lift

you feel the quivering mass
slide full upon your prong
to turn
and eagerly lay
upon your bed of fire

the heat consumes
as juices flow

senses stir
while desire mounts

aroused in hungry anticipation
of the ultimate pleasure
and heady bliss

that is
a perfect loin

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

…more poems of hungry passion found at “readwritepoem”

 

The Poets – (anatomy of a rewrite)

IMG_8614

This poem, entitled “The Poets”, is a major rewrite inspired, over a decade later, by the original which I wrote in 1997, and which you will find following this piece…

• • • this comparative exercise was inspired by the blog “Totally Optional Prompts”

The Poets

•

damaged in their special ways
they like the path unclear
the route unmarked

fond of stumbling in
fumbling through
finding the way that’s theirs

engaged by the obtuse
the uneven
the asymmetric chord
they see grace and form
in brilliant imbalance

seduced by the clue
drawn to the fog
they seek the wonder
it withholds

where they long to go
is always round the bend
over the hill
behind the door

their ears prick
to the distant sound
that calls
just beyond clarity

to all these things
their souls are pulled

because

down the trail
in the mist
around the curve
over the crest
shut away

the clarion awaits

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

______________________________

Following is the original poem from which the poem above was born. It is essentially a different poem from above, but it was this poem that inspired the writing of the other — a re-write of a reflection on the poet’s essence…

• • • This poem you are about to read was initially inspired by Bill Moyers exceptional PBS TV special and the equally wonderful subsequent book, “The Language Of Life”…

The Poet

•

the poet’s eye is like our eye
yet it sees life’s un-shown
and reflects it for our sight

the poet’s ear is like our ear
but it senses life’s most quiet
to resound so we might hear

the poet’s tongue is like our tongue
yet it speaks what is not spoken
and becomes the voice of truth

the poet’s hand is like our hand
yet when it reaches out
what it touches is our soul

• • •

rob kistner © 1997

Vessel

…sculpture below by the remarkable Rose Bean Simpson… she is a 3D poet…

Vessel

•

there is a needing and a caring
a taking and a giving

pieces of one’s soul
peeled away
for the sake of the cherished

a duality of dark and light
positive and negative

that haunts the reaching out
and clutch of profaned hands
which inflict raw wounds

that also blesses the sacred touch
to sooth the burning bruise
and heal the unseen damage

a rootedness in the need to nurture
in the looking one-eyed blind
to see that which is not visible
to the unfocused seer

madness engulfs the heart
of the flat-light sighted
obscuring truth

the radiance of clarity
envelopes the sainted
illuminating the wondrous

voids of spirit
marked and remembered
are besought in the leaving time

at the crossing over
to the dream
or hard justice

I am here but for you
until all that remains are bones
taken up to strike down menace
that which means you harm

devour me complete
in validation of my path
consummation of my holy fate

I am your vessel of deliverance

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

…poem inspired by read write image #10, seen above, found at “readwritepoem”

Continuum

 

 

Continuum

•

emerald eyes stare

fix me in their grasp

lift me into the realm
of unfinished dreams

strip me of fear
longing
of inhibition

render me transparent
as I rise weightless
unburdened of care

an untethered being of pure moment
filled with universes within universes

a vessel of time and space
ever-expanding consciousness
aware of all

not as separate
but as the is – the was – the to become

with infinite reach
embracing the strand continuum

drawing it forward
reeling it back
in uninterrupted linearity

for no reason
but the being of its universal presence
its omnipotent here-ness
the infinite now

seeing through the emerald eyes
with crystalline gaze
I behold the beginning of the endless
touch what is not known
glimpse what cannot be now
but is forever

an epiphanal glance
at the mystery of fate
the why within the why

ever I ascend to realization
that the meaning of the mystery
is veiled in those emerald eyes

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

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…photorendering at top entitled “Emerald Eyes” by: rob kistner © 2008

___________________________________

A BRAND NEW WORD: •Epiphanality – 1. The quality of transcendence and enlightenment that exists in something 2. the ability to transcend and rise above

 

…wonderful poems found at “readwritepoem”