Category: Free Verse

Racing

 

 

Racing

•

right
keep right came the response
redirecting the runner
in reaction to his rapid-fire request regarding the route

racing recklessly in redoubled resolve
certain this resurgence would redeem his rough start
he ran rampant

refusing to relinquish his radical pace
no longer rambling
he raged like a rogue renegade

determination renewed
hope refueled
spirit refreshed
his belief was rekindled that a resounding victory would result
if he would just run
run
run

his rally realized
lungs raw and ragged
he rocketed ‘cross the finish line
reared his head
and roared raucously

arms raised in release
tears rolling in relief
he rejoiced
triumphant

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

…discover what else is running at One Single Impression…

Ferryman

Ferryman

 

The Wondrous Dream…

•

sailing on a skiff of dreams
the ferryman standing watch

you soar untethered
‘mong the clouds of wonder

to magical mystical ports of call
where all imagined is in your grasp

if only you could stay the course…
but fast – daybreak approaches

• • •

 

The Final Dream…

•

caught in the final dream
called forth by the ferryman

spirit stirs to the distant voice
readies for the journey

one foot still in this mortal realm
soul resigned to embarkation

time folding in upon
as slow you approach the light

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_____________________


…this piece inspired by readwritepoem…
…and by sunday scribblings…

photo collage entitled: “charon” | by: h.koppdelaney

Charles

 

 

Charles

•

this night charles is a traveler
adrift in the mists of time
in a rough-hewn dory of his mortality
curiosity is his poleman

overcome by insecurity
charles has abandoned his reality
to sail beyond the mystery
drawn to the light of clarity

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_____________________


…this piece inspired by readwritepoem…
…and by sunday scribblings…

photo collage entitled: “charon” | by: h.koppdelaney

Small Stones – trio

…below are three of my poems that have been selected by Fiona Robyn for publication on her “A Handful of Stones” poetry site. She refers to these brief works as ‘small stones’, hence the title of my post. Accompanying each of my selected poems is the date on which it will be published. I invite you to visit Fiona’s site as you will find some wonderful little gems, or rather, ‘small stones’ there…

 

Dark Dock
•
bow light hangs heavy in the fog
its beam fractured ‘cross chop water
probing for the dark dock
•
(publishing March 24th)

 

For Granted
•
we fall asleep each night
snug in our bed
confident of gravity
•
(publishing April 22nd)

 

Serenity
•
green leaves on a blue pond
float in golden sun
as red birds softly sing
•
(publishing May 11th)

_________________________________
all poems by: rob kistner © 2010

 

Phantasmagoria

I’ve grown dark in my spirit over the past year, and I want to find my way back to the light and the wonder that used to fill me. I am posting this piece I wrote a couple years ago to remind myself of when I was still in touch with my sense of wonder.

 

 

Phantasmagoria

•

I’ve watched
golden Fire Clouds
hanging in pale green skies
over the azure seas of Toluras

heard the haunting call
of the coral-winged Lellurt
soaring Droon’s violet skies
over teal Darpin Bay

seen the copper leaves
of Parmus fronds
flashing from indigo mountains
in the crystal mists of Gemin

been seduced by saffron Remmors
a’swim with siren song
translucent in the amber waters
of emerald Topiarus

I have beheld exquisite beauty
of otherworldly delight
but nothing to please my eyes and ears
as you, whispering here, tonight

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

_____________________

fantasy artwork above entitled: “Time Window”
featuring elements from justin and rob kistner
final composite created by: rob kistner © 2006

Seeking Forgiveness

…this is a poem about the horror and ethical dilemma that is war, and the devastating impact it has on many soldiers…

 

Seeking Forgiveness

•

my eyes

crisp red from the scalding sun
from devastation’s fires
from cruel vision of relentless horror
scorched by vicious exposure of sentenced gaze

take refuge in this heavy late evening dew
thick with munitions soot
settling like a shroud
lubricious
opaque
obscuring

I am sustained by this damp cool pall
that descends upon me
wraps ‘round my pained countenance
fevered with fatigue
deafened by weapon’s roar
crippled with despair

driven by faint memory of honor
of duty
of human dignity
I stumble
broken by this sin I shoulder
this perversion
not of my making
but of my charge

my sin

conceived and unleashed
by those who would impose their will
their twisted utopian vision
who would advance their agenda of domination
those who would take it all
wear the conqueror’s crown
who would rule the world

a world now broken
corrupted by their vision
spoiled by their vanity
a world in chaos

I have but this bloodied ruin-riddled highway
of deepening nocturne
of dying dreams
crushed innocence
destruction
death
decay

of my duplicity
of my guilt

my shame

fear not for the future
weep not for the past
…impossible

and so I stumble on
muttering mea culpa
saturated with this falling evening
with this drenching sorrow
slinking in exhausted alert
nerves shattered as eggshells
numb to panic

hollow
empty
into this coming night

and the next night
and the night that follows
that always follows

captive on this road of murder
of mounting evil
of brutal human arrogance
prisoner of this lost highway

seeking forgiveness

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

…inspired by the readwritepoem prompt #114, prompt #202 on Sunday Scribblings, and prompt #40 on Carry On Tuesday, I edited and rewrote two separate poems I originally wrote in 2007/2008 – and blended them together into a new single work…

 

•> click HERE to read The Failure of Architecture, a poem I wrote about the ethical dilemma of the corporate world <•

The Failure of Architecture

…this is a poem about the dehumanizing impact of the cubicle’d corporate world, and the often questionable ethics that pervade it…

 


…collage entitled: “Robotomy” – by: rob kistner © 2004…

 

The Failure of Architecture

•

they rise gargantuan
icons of the clever human

they vibrate
with the chaos of mixed agenda

they hum with networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
‘we can’ beyond the reach of ‘should we’

bedecked in stainless
glass
and stone
ablaze in halogen and neon
strewn here and there with art
their essence remains sterile
their foundation is profit
their cornerstone often cupidity

in varying shape and differing size
swollen with the buzz
rustle
and clatter
of corporate cacophony

they flank in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
ensnared in the honk
screech
and roar
of gridlocked anguish

soaring above the drone and glare
and the dirge of dying dignity
these pretentious monoliths can intimidate
emotionally eviscerate
creatively castrate
spiritually suffocate
stagger and stun

a cold calculated majesty

ultimately — this architecture fails
for it does not move the soul
that seeks the folded petal’s mystery

that marvels
at the smallness of a sprouting frond
the beauty of a burled oak
the magic of a budding branch
at the glory of a redwood’s rise

it does not lift the spirit
soothed by a morning breeze
whispered in autumn aspens
or stirred by a loon’s lament
over the still water of a dusk lake
or thrilled by the song of birds
the mighty swoop of a redtail hawk
or captivated by a coyote’s midnight call

it cannot touch the heart
that needs to see a salmon’s trek
the dolphin’s arc in an open sky
the roll of unobstructed clouds
or a fall of stars

it offers nothing to the dreamer
who needs to hear the crack of thunder
resound for miles across the plain
then off the mountain’s face again

yes…

this architecture fails the human core
that needs the fresh embrace of rain
the crisp and quiet drift of snow
the hues and sway of living fields

it leaves the spirit cold
that needs to watch the orchards bloom to fruit
see forests thick beyond horizons
or feel the lift of cresting surf

no…

there are no human constructs
that satisfy this need to know true splendors
evolving natural wonders

wonders that inspire
resonate the heart
that liberate the soul
to leave one…

…transcendent

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

…this edited rewrite, of a poem I wrote in 2007, was inspired by a prompt at sunday scribblings…

Naked

…this is a love poem, that is also a yearning for honesty, in the face of our fundamental human tendency toward insecurity and fear…

 


photorendering entitled: “Liberated”

 

Naked

•

I want to see you
see you naked
naked — backlit by the sun

naked — in a mountain meadow

naked — running in the rain

naked — in a flower garden

naked — lying in the surf

naked — walking in a forest deep

naked — smiling on an autumn morn

naked — in a peaceful sleep

naked — in a redrock desert

naked — by a waterfall

naked — in a gentle breeze

naked — on a silvered night
silhouette ‘gainst a sterling moon

naked — folded in my arms
with your heart and soul laid bare
all your dreams and fears exposed
every pretense stripped away

…naked

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

…poem written in response to prompt #113, found at “readwritepoem”

Dark Stream, Deep Current

22 ripples

 

ripple 1
•

a place within
closed away from scrutiny
from the world

angry at the wind
at the rain
at daylight

angry at your smile
at the sound of your voice

angry at it all

this is where I live
and how

you come
like a void
false journey-mate

embossed with promises

a coat of synthetic
edges peeled back
its leatherlessness
revealed

shivering
I wrap it round me
seeking warmth

but it is not supple

ill-fitted
it does not hold my form

you do not remember
the bend of my arm

nor the silk
that slid
slippery underfoot
on the marble aisle

as we stalked love
and the vain promise
it would be constant

as the wind
as the rain
as daylight

 

ripple 2
•

I lean upon my folded fist
cool against my temple
elbow solid
on my cluttered desk

eyes drooped
and closed
aflame with spoiled sleep

face slacked
head cocked
tilted to the right
heavy with confusion

skull upon the finger bones
in weighted indecision

procrastination presses down

the whooshing hum
of cooling bytes
relentless in my ears

thoughts like digits
on a dollar slot
spin unsettled in my mind

they neither click
nor lock in place
they tumble
in a jumble

they roll and blur
just out of focus
lost in mental fog

sunken in my office chair
I remain
immobile

paralyzed by perplexity

imprisoned
by the chaos
awhirl in my mind

the freedom of decision
impossible to manage

nothing will be done
this day

no first step can be taken

 

ripple 3
•

do not look upon me
in this untended state
grown over
with regret

rampant with cynicism
with unbridled bitterness

in this winter season
of dormant bloom
waning hope

my color has all faded
gone to random hues of grey
the faintest blush of tint


Continue reading Dark Stream, Deep Current

So Many Gifts

NaPoMo poem #29

This is the twenty ninth and the penultimate of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This poem is a tongue-in-cheek, but well intentioned look at life’s many gifts, inspired by prompt #29 at read write poem.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

So Many Gifts

•

we were granted
many gifts
when we arrived
here in this life

perhaps the most precious
is the gift of family

to endure
the gift of family
and any other calamity
we were bestowed
the gift of courage
the gift of patience
is a part of this

now when we require
more reinforcement
we have the useful
gift of friends

should all these gifts
prove just too much
there is the gift
of nature’s beauty

if we overdose
on all things tranquil
the fallback gift
is our creative spark

to prevent this gift
from being wasted
we have literature
music and art

and to preserve
dark karmic balance
we’ve been blessed
with the critique clique

finally we come
to this the greatest
of all the gifts
that we possess
and that gift being
the gift of love

though we enjoy
all of these gifts
life still can be
quite tough at times

but don’t despair
no
don’t lose hope

some secret gifts
have we been granted
to give us strength
and keep us going

the first of these
our sense of wonder
and hand in hand
our sense of awe

and should all else falter
there is the failsafe
the secret weapon
our sense of humor

but please take heed
keep careful watch
if you lose this latter
my friend
you’re screwed

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Unexpected

NaPoMo poem #27

This is the twenty seventh of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This poem is an edited rewrite of a older poem of mine and was inspired by a moving personal experience, offered here in response to the NaPoWriMo Wordle prompt #27 at read write poem.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Unexpected

•

unquestionable joy
in a place most unexpected
the crystalline eyes of an innocent
cruel society deems disabled

bent and stooped
impossibly twisted
confined to constant care
and his rolling metal chair

a hardscrabble life
that would drive a lesser soul
to lunacy

but his gentle eyes reflect a wonder
my jaded heart has long since lost
by arrogance extinguished

his timeless spirit knows only trust
it pours forth from his being

positioned close and cozy
to the modest stage
he is enraptured by the music
engulfed within the rhythm

enthralled by this magic
he is beaming
like an angel

the band plays fast
the band plays slow
the band plays loud
the band plays low

he rocks forward
he rolls backward
waves in jubilation
and launches heart and soul
into a wicked shoulder wiggle
as he vibrates unabashed
with pure delight

the veins of his neck
stand out full and proud
as he tosses back his head
uninhibited in laughter
tears of joy
leaking down his cheeks

his person full alive
his essence full aware
his nascent bliss aglow
he is wholly in the now

he is filled with every note
wrapped up in the cadence
sparked by the drumbeat
thrilled by every nuance

he experiences an ecstasy
at which I can only marvel
its clarity and power I can never know

it’s at this moment
that I realize
how much I do not understand

as I behold this able man

faint envy stirs
watching his unbridled joy

so complete
and unexpected

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Becoming

NaPoMo poem #26

This is the twenty sixth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This is my second metaphysical poem in two days, and was inspired by the NaPoWriMo prompt # 26 at read write poem.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Becoming

•

as is the spark of birth
the burst of a seed
the first ray of dawn
the tug of love wakening
the moment of humility
the pen to blank page

so is the essence of becoming

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Being Now

NaPoMo poem #25

This is the twenty fifth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This was inspired by a prompt at read write poem to write a “how to” about something difficult to do.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Being Now

•

step gently through the dream-gate

take hold the strand continuum

ride the light that carries you

to the is, was, the will be

transcendence moment

when the all is one

in the perfection

of pure being

here now

alive

∞

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

My Words

NaPoMo poem #24

This is the twenty fourth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This is about a poet struggling with inspiration, pressing to break through writer’s block.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

My Words

•

I released my words into the cold
they froze and cracked and splintered
which made them sharp and edged
and piercing

too difficult to handle

I thrust my words into the fire
they scorched and warped and blistered
which made them hot and rough
and coarse

too difficult to touch

I abandoned my words in the storm
they soaked and swelled and sagged
which made them bloat and droop
with heft

too difficult to hold

then I left my words quite well alone
in no adverse conditions

and light they rose up from my heart
and soft they rolled from off my tongue

and true they drifted through the air
where suspended souls could find them there

to take them in
and keep them safe
and treat them in a manner fair

to befriend them
in an honest way
until it was their time to share

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Dissonance

NaPoMo poem #24-A

This is poem twenty-four-A of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This, like poem #24, is also about a poet struggling with inspiration, trying to block out the night noises and cacophony that surrounds him on a hot sticky night.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Dissonance

•

relentless whir
in cycled pulse
drones overhead

coarse whisper from above
promises relief
in vain

blades disturb page edges
at rest before me

in irregular rustle they taunt

impatient
untouched

no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
do they bear

no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
with which to be dispatched

no coin of phrase to spend

dissonance
spills through the open window
the buzz, chirr, and leggy rasp
muffled keens
distant yelps

the edgy din of crawling
prowling night

intrudes in damp insistence
to fill my head
and leave not one small space
for wit or insight

all in vain
there is no relief

nothing clever
or profound
in the air this night

hot, sticky, thick

uninspired

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem