Evening Grace


 
Evening Grace

~

as dusk descends
my stride holds steady
buoyed by the gentle embrace
of the downing golden sun

early shadows fall soft

vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes ’round my shoulders
envelops me in calm

there is still road to travel

eager to keep the journey
I’m drawn by the beauty
of the rising moon in sunset

coaxed by a soothing breeze
I venture on toward my love

rolling amber fires the lane
spreads warm ‘cross the horizon

mist begins to rise and waft

nestled in the valley
I see my hearth & home
guilded copper in this eventide

my heart quickens
stirred by this gorgeous vale
the ribbon of its brook
entwines my soul in wonder

my smile sweetens
my pace livens
I hum a quiet evensong
in the grace of this splendid day

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010


…artwork entitled “Evening Glory” by: Steven Mitchell

  • click below to enjoy more poems at dVerse:

    Open Link #277 – Live edition

  • Emerald Eyes

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #25 for 2010 at Writer’s Island,
    also offered “off-topic” to the October 15th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.

    Emerald Eyes

    •

    emerald eyes captivate
    fix me in their gaze
    lift me
    carry me
    to the realm of unfinished dreams

    they strip me of fear
    longing
    of inhibition
    to render me transparent

    I rise weightless
    unburdened of care
    an untethered being of pure moment
    soaring through universes within universes

    a traveler in time and space
    ever-expanding consciousness
    aware of all
    riding the strand continuum
    drawing it forward
    reeling it back
    slipping all temporal bounds

    a being of universal presence
    adrift in the infinite now
    lost in the mystery
    veiled in those emerald eyes

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Un-Lonely

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #236 at Sunday Scribblings,
    and in response to prompt #137 at One Single Impression.

    Un-Lonely

    •

    the depth of a verse
    the resonance of a chord
    the warmth of breath
    the softness of flesh
    the effervescence of laughter
    the brilliance of love

    …complete me

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    No First Ink

    Offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression,
    and in response to prompt #73 on Carry On Tuesday,
    also in response to prompt #189 at Three Word Wednesday.




    No First Ink

    •

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

    eyes droop and flicker
    aflame with spoiled sleep

    face slacked
    head now dropped
    held in my hands
    heavy with confusion

    skull upon the finger bones
    in weighted indecision
    procrastination presses down

    where art thou muse
    I seek weightless inspiration
    to be lifted up by you

    instead
    the hum of cooling bytes
    drones relentless in my ears
    impossible to ignore
    no matter how I try

    thoughts like digits on a dollar slot
    spin unsettled in my mind
    they neither click nor lock in place
    they tumble in a jumble
    to roll and blur just out of focus
    lost in mental fog

    sunken in my writer’s chair
    I remain immobile
    paralyzed by perplexity
    imprisoned by the chaos
    awhirl in my mind

    the freedom of decision
    impossible to manage

    I fear nothing will be writ
    no first ink will be shed this day

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    To Soar

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #23 for 2010 at Writer’s Island,
    the Ginsberg ‘american sentence’ is offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression.

    To Soar

    •

    to feel the warmth of early spring sun
    to wander through old growth
    to see the sunset into the pacific
    to breath in the fragrance of summer
    to see joy in another’s eyes
    to hear my child’s laughter
    to be breath-taken by art
    to be dazzled by autumn’s palette
    to taste the richness of chocolate
    to immerse in the rhythms of music
    to see the morning dew sparkle
    to hear the sweet lilt of a thrush
    to know the quiet of snowfall
    to raise my voice in song
    to drift on a clear mountain lake
    to get lost in poetry
    to feel your gentle touch

    …is to soar

    • • •

    to just try to fly is to fall short, one must expect to soar, then leap

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Kisses Crimson-Gold

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    Kisses Crimson-Gold

    ~

    the stir of autumn
    enwraps my heart
    as summer slowly wanes
    riding the early fallen leaves
    on the current of october waters
    whirling and bobbing on crystal ripples
    round and past the river rocks
    over rip rap in the stream bed
    carried vividly away
    into the setting sun

    days shorten
    shadows lengthen
    a quiet melancholy
    settles upon the valley
    as nature prepares itself
    for the slumber of renewal

    but not before the crackling
    joyous dance of harvest
    and a crisp crimson-gold
    kiss goodnight

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010

    __________________

    Brightly coloured fall leaves in a forest stream

    Deep Azure

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #21 at We Write Poems.

    Deep Azure

    •

    on the boulevard below
    last night’s rain puddles
    midst the chaos of metro-clutter

    as if abandoned by the waters of earth
    it shoulders its way through the culverts
    in search of mother sea

    this day begins golden and crisp

    bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

    lover and beloved
    we sit by the morning window
    with tea and curiosity

    we talk

    for this moment
    our souls spill one into the other
    until I am distracted

    your lips continue sculpting words
    but I’ve fallen into your deep azure eyes

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Mute

    This piece is offered in response to the September 13th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.




    Mute

    •

    there is no half-eaten answer
    with which to embellish
    or to skirt the evidence

    the stench of truth
    permeates the debris of proof
    in a swarm of crusted guilt

    the orphaned child of supposition
    abandoned on the dock of iniquity
    impaled by the chant of sterile innuendo

    wearing a temporary backbone
    fashioned of suffering
    and the tears of innocence

    to witness the violent clash
    of malevolence and courage
    and remain forever mute

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Believe

    This piece is offered in response to prompt #19 at We Write Poems
    and in response to the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post.



    • image entitled “Weary” – colorized, digitally rendered by: rob kistner 2010


    Believe

    •

    I’d like to make myself believe
    the dream I dreamt as a young man
    that we can change the world’s heart
    to embrace love for one another

    I’d like to make myself believe
    people are by nature good
    that we can live in peace
    and make the world a better place

    I’d like to make myself believe
    universal understanding
    is a common goal
    of the peoples of this planet

    I’d like to make myself believe
    we haven’t lost our faith
    in these sacrosanct ideals
    of an elevated life

    I’d like to make myself believe
    there still exists somewhere
    a shared and nurtured vision
    of a paradise on earth

    I’d like to make myself believe
    but empty runs the hourglass
    again I’ve heard the daily news
    and I’m so weary, and brokenhearted

    yes, I’d like to make myself believe
    I’d like to, really like to
    but sometimes now I even wonder
    if anyone ever truly did

    • • •

    • poem above borrowed key line from the song “Fireflies” by Owl City

    _________________

    Time Running Out

    •

    once demure discourse

    now rhetoric to offend

    volatile neighbors

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • haiku above also offered for the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales,
    and the September 15th prompt at Three Word Wednesday.


    Mag 23

    Final Sentinel

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    Final Sentinel

    ~

    I watched
    as generations
    moved forward
    as civilization
    painstakingly
    progressed
    set foothold
    knowledge
    unfolded
    slowly

    I observed
    the millenniums
    of human endeavor
    as they awakened
    to self-reliance
    less dependent
    on hive mentality
    mastering machines
    eliminating conflict
    striving for truth
    ever evolving

    I saw
    nature
    the world
    reshaped
    tempered
    resilient

    proud
    I stand tall
    thrust skyward
    closer to heaven
    than any living thing
    a perpetual presence
    the constant sentinel
    a witness to triumph

    would
    that all that
    were true

    I watched helplessly
    as generations receded
    as empires crumbled
    greed ran rampant
    wisdom ebbed
    civilization
    imploded

    I observed
    millenniums
    of human folly
    misguided logic
    flawed reasoning
    as they flailed
    stumbling
    to a cold
    isolated
    world

    disconnected

    from one another
    from the environment
    serving their machines
    serving their avarice
    perfecting violence
    racing to ruination
    becoming aliens
    in a mad eden
    disillusioned
    depraved
    diseased

    until
    they were
    no more

    I watched through tears
    as the natural world
    slowly declined
    diminished
    withered
    scarred
    died

    putrid
    toxic air
    permeates
    burnt terrain
    to far horizons
    and now I stand
    thrusting skyward
    in this decaying hell
    praying for a heaven
    the only living thing
    the pitiful survivor
    the final sentinel
    time’s witness
    to tragedy
    watching
    the end

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2018)

  • Author’s Note: let’s strive to see part two never happens…

    _____________

  • What Do You See

    Mother-less

    This piece is offered in response to prompt Mag 31 at Magpie Tales



    Mother-less

    (bastard’s lament)

    •

    undesired
    discarded
    thrown away

    though whole
    sound
    and useful

    no matter

    labeled mistake
    misbegotten
    unfortunate

    shown the back

    outside
    looking in

    left behind

    alone
    by the side
    of life’s road
    to endure
    the harsh weather
    of abandonment

    tried
    convicted
    sentenced for life
    to suffer confusion
    shame
    the sorrow
    of the unwanted

    condemned

    guilty only
    of the crime
    of inconvenience

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    You & Me

    I offer this piece in response to prompt #69 at Carry On Tuesday,
    and prompt #18 at We Write Poems,
    also the September 6th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
    and the September 8th prompt at Three Word Wednesday

    You &Me

    (a poetic quadratych)

    •

    The Secret

    what I said was
    don’t touch
    go away
    leave me be

    while inside
    I cried out
    draw near
    stay with me

    you are light
    you are pure
    you are joy
    you are free

    I am not
    I am dark
    I am beast
    can’t you see

    without you
    there is much
    you don’t know
    about me

    The Revelation

    I lived at the light’s edge
    that pooled in the night
    on the bleak back streets
    of the sad brokenhearted

    I hid in the anguish
    of the loveless who cowered
    in the dark nightmare alleys
    of the lost and forgotten

    I fed on the grief
    of the mourners who wailed
    for their horrific loss
    in the ruins of death

    this was my heartscape
    black as mid-winter night
    a lightless horizon
    no glimmer of hope

    trusting was toxic
    no foothold for love
    relations were carnage
    scattered lifeless and cold

    The Change

    ’til a beautiful being
    eyes brilliant and true
    approached from afar
    bearing tinder of love

    the graceful arrangement
    was deftly ignited
    and patiently tended
    the fire gently stoked

    afraid to come forward
    I held outside the glow
    but your kindness drew me
    we stood by the blaze

    with passion it roared
    its light pierced my blackness
    its heat thawed my soul
    my cold heart was warmed

    The Miracle

    you wrapped yourself ‘round me
    gazed into my eyes
    your kiss soft and serene
    was the essence of healing

    with you in my life
    I am darkness removed
    soaring and weightless
    radiant and rising

    vital and caring
    my spirit’s renewed
    illuminated wholly
    by a new dawn of dreams

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photo above is of the GOASTT, digitally enhanced by: rob kistner 2010

    Soulfruit

    version 1

    I taste you like a peach
    sweet juice trickles to my chin

    I bite you like an Apple
    your crisp laughter fills my ears

    I devour you like a strawberry
    tart and succulent on my tongue

    I drink you like thick nectar
    you flow rich into my soul

    I desire you completely
    longing to be fulfilled

    I consume you wholly
    flushed with wanton pleasure

    ____

    IMG_8651

    version 2

    my mouth on you
    soft
    like a peach

    you glisten
    trickle from my lips

    I bite you
    sweet
    like an apple

    your hushed breath
    staccato crisp

    you taste
    tart as a strawberry
    succulent
    as love’s nectar

    a delicious
    wanton pleasure

    ____

    rob kistner © 2010

    ______________

    For No One

    …this piece is in response to prompt #17 at We Write Poems,
    and prompt #69 at Carry On Tuesday,
    also the September 1st prompt at Three Word Wednesday…




    For No One

    •

    the cadence
    to which I tight step
    pulses
    in my heart
    alone

    it is my coursing vital
    stirs my spirit
    steels my resolve
    drives me on
    into the fray
    emboldened

    “to thine own self”
    resonates
    the chambers
    of my soul
    sweet
    as the song
    of angels

    if one is not
    author
    of the life
    one lives
    it is
    plagiarized
    and its essence
    forged

    it is my pen
    scribes my epitaph

    the spark
    must be authentic
    or the fire
    arson

    the flame
    that burns within
    is mine

    do not expect
    I will ignite
    for you
    or blaze
    to your vision

    you are not
    my flint

    do not attempt
    to chart
    my course
    I search
    my own
    horizon

    do not
    contain me
    I live
    outside

    do not
    seek me
    on the surface
    I break deep
    below
    the negative

    do not
    summon me
    to your queue

    yours is not
    my grid
    or file

    you are not
    my piper

    this
    I know

    I stand in line
    for no one

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • artwork by Aynaku, embellished by: rob kistner 2010

    True Work

    I offer this piece in response to prompt #18 at Writer’s Island.

    ______________

    AUTHOR’S NOTE: I had this incomplete 3-year-old draft of my poem “True Work” (loosely inspired by Gary Snyder’s “Real Work”). I had wanted, for some time, to edit it into a piece, with which I would be more satisfied. The above listed prompt inspired me to create a suite of poetry, threaded together by the phrase: true work. My focus for this suite being humanity, which was the crux of the “True Work” draft I already had. The digital rendering I created of the hand holding the world helped me finish my vision of this poetry suite.

    ______________

    “empty your love into the world”
    “the true work is never done”

     

    True Work

    ____
    I bend my back and squat
    then straighten at the waist
    hunkered ‘neath the weight
    I lift clean the load
    the warehouseman’s refrain
    always on my mind
    “back straight
    lift with the legs”

    the first test – no result
    I try a second
    then a third
    on and on
    day after day
    long hours in the lab
    the formula must be perfect
    only perfect will save lives

    drywall must be flush
    and plumb
    also square and seamless
    meticulously
    I set each sheet
    with the level and the bob
    then pause
    to wipe my sweating brow

    I curse the clay
    do battle with fatigue
    I coax my muse
    to commit to form
    the first draft of my vision
    to then modify
    and remold
    until the ultimate creation

    these are elements of the work I do
    or did
    or may yet do
    and I am you
    and you are me
    and we are all together
    in this endeavor of our daily life

    but this is not our true work

    to bend to lift someone in need
    to help carry their burden
    until they again stand steady

    to seek the components of peace
    to formulate the dialog
    that fosters understanding

    to measure well tolerance
    to stand squarely flush
    with truth and level justice

    to visualize universal love
    to create the enduring model
    for a free and vital world

    this — is our true work

    so little done
    so much to do

    * * *

     

    If Only
    ____

    stressed beyond limits

    earth’s fragile balance falters

    but this can be changed

    her future is in our hands

    if only we do true work

    * * *

     

    Endeavor
    ____

    abstain from false pride

    prayer does not a halo make

    that requires true work

    ____

    rob kistner © 2010

     

    * photorendering above entitled “In Our Hands”
    by: rob kistner © 2010