Limitless
•
• written for Writer’s Island
Limitless
•
• written for Writer’s Island
Equinox
•
winter’s journey ends
lengthening light bears witness
spring crests and breaks
here at the equinox
life bursts forth
poking through pliant soil
unfurling on barren branch
here at the equinox
nature stirs in song and call
celebrating new birth
sustaining the cycle
here at the equinox
my heart leaps
my spirit dances
to this rhythm of renewal
here at the equinox
• • •
rob kistner © 3/20/11
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
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
• • •
to just try to fly is to fall short, one must expect to soar, then leap
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
(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
•
rise up
clad in colors of a joyful life
rebuke the strife
tilt against convention
the prevailing norm
is a toxic storm
buck the winds of rebuff
ignore the false contention
stare down the face of ridicule
if buffeted by cruel
condemnation
shun the foolish
sadly blown off course
by the brutish force
of blind conformation
be not inclined to fear
nor falter
choose instead
to quell their mindless dread
and so to alter
the contradiction
which grips their head
stay one’s ground
leaning hard on raw conviction
wait the weight
until one’s strength is found
be anchored bold
and deeply hold
to the true and genuine
until your patience spent
revives again
do not resent
remain flexible
to withstand the blows
resisting those
who would see you swayed
and lowly bent
who would see
your spirit broken
for so to savor
instead
raise high your head
don’t ever waver
be never rigid
brittle
prone to break
do not forsake
your heart song
eschew the wayward
noisy throng
breakthrough
wisdom is a supple soul
struck through
by true enlightenment
pierced clean and strong
by wonder
bleeding tolerance
and promise
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
______________
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.
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
•
it sits
still
atop the corner
of our garden wall
just where she left it
how many lilies
did it nourish
how many fuscia
lilac
rose
and morning glory
did it quench
it dispensed its
life giving waters
so gracefully
in her hand
such a delicate hand
gentle in its task
of planting new growth
but rugged on the weeds
that threatened her beloved garden
she was the giver of life
and the guardian
of her realm
but she could not
stop all that threatened
and I had not
her gift of life giving
and so it rests
atop the wall
no longer is it lifted
by her tender
hand of nurture
that hand now
is still
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
…I’ve written two pieces in response to Three Word Wednesday July 21st prompt • the first is entitled “The Quiet” • the second is entitled “The Strike”…
•
left like spent bait
in the disapproving sun
to rot from apathy
the carcasses of constituents
foolishly quiet
curl brittle and crack
victims of their trust
they did not jump
their chance for change
and so they wither
hollowed by ignorance
and purposeful neglect
while the dark beast
slouches off with eden
marrow dripping from a smile
• • •
The Strike
•
warm
familiar
comfortable in my palm
my fingers wrap natural cork
index raised
gauging line tension
precision brings the willow’d shaft
high above my shoulder
rod flexing expectantly
a flick of my wrist
and the line arcs forward
increasing the pressure
on my fingertip
as it rolls ahead
accelerating
then
a careful pluck
like a string
on a guitar
it is released
the golden lure
at line’s end
sails silent
into the squinting summer sun
with a subtle plick
the barbed hunter disappears
slipping ‘neath the sparkle
of the undulating steam
seductively
with quickening pulse
eagerly visualizing
I retrieve the bait
anticipating the strike
patience draws the lure
dancing ever nearer
I long for the sharp
powerful tug
for the slender thread
unreeled before me
to rise
and dart away
in a sliver of silver spray
for my heart to jump
as a proud trout
breaks water
victim to my seduction
in this moment
mind focused
breath steady
senses heightened
awaiting sudden contact
I reflect
there is a simple truth in fishing
in life
the thrill of possibility
can be as rich
as the reward
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
I could not sleep last night
the tears come at times today
tears because I miss you
tears because I love you
tears because the memories
bitter and sweet
bring forth these true emotions
you abide within my heart these days
in a place of warmth and peace
I am so thankful you are here
and will always be
______________________________
in loving memory of my son
Aaron Robert Kistner
November 4, 1976 – July 3, 1995
I can no longer imagine
the power of the blue pacific
thumping the huge stack rocks
on the coast at sunset
I can no longer imagine
the sweet face of my first-born son
held in loving embrace
passed on now 15 years
I can no longer imagine
the soft spring rain
misting the morning light
bringing life to winter earth
I can no longer imagine
the stir of a summer breeze
shimmering across the surface
of a high mountain lake
I can no longer imagine
the filtered autumn sun
falling gentle golden
through a red wood canopy
for I have experienced
these wonders
known these treasures
they enrich me
I need no longer imagine
the fire in a woman’s eyes
the magic of a woman’s smile
the tenderness of a woman’s touch
the passion of a woman’s kiss
nor what it is to love you
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
John Wooden has,
on this 4th day of June,
in the year 2010
left this mortal realm
after 99 years
of untiring service
impeccable wisdom
and great love
a man of balance
and spiritual depth
such as John
comes so seldom
it must be seriously considered
that this world
has lost
one of its special angels
and that the warmth
and the stability
of humankind
may in fact
suffer consequence
I shed not a tear
for John
he needs no pity
it is for the rest of us
that I heartily cry
the following
are the immortal words
of a great and profoundly humble man
gather close
and hear
•
a mentor is someone
who can give correction
without causing resentment
ability is a poor man’s wealth
adversity is the state
in which man
most easily becomes
acquainted with himself
being especially free of admirers then
be more concerned
with your character
than your reputation
because your character
is what you really are
while your reputation
is merely what others
think you are
be prepared
and be honest
it is amazing
how much can be accomplished
if no one cares
who gets the credit
although there is no progress
without change
not all change is progress
consider the rights of others
before your own feelings
and the feelings of others
before your own rights
do not let what you cannot do
interfere with what you can do
don’t measure yourself
by what you have accomplished
but by what you should have accomplished
with your ability
failure is not fatal
but failure to change
might be
ability may get you to the top
but it takes character
to keep you there
listen
if you want to be heard
never make excuses
your friends don’t need them
and your foes won’t believe them
failing to plan
is planning to fail
if you don’t have time
to do it right
when will you have time
to do it over
there is nothing stronger
than gentleness
the true test
of a man’s character
is what he does
when no one is watching
if you’re not making mistakes
then you’re not doing anything
I’m positive that a doer
makes mistakes
it isn’t what you do
but how you do it
it’s not so important
who starts the game
but who finishes it
don’t let yesterday
take up too much of today
make every day
your masterpiece
it’s the little details
that are vital
little things
make big things happen
it’s what you learn
after you know it all
that counts
players with fight
never lose a game
they just run out of time
material possessions
winning scores
and great reputations
are meaningless
in the eyes of the lord
because he knows
what we really are
and that is all that matters
never mistake activity
for achievement
success comes from knowing
that you did your best
to become the best
that you are capable
of becoming
success is never final
failure is never fatal
It’s courage that counts
success
is peace of mind
which is a direct result
of self-satisfaction
in knowing
you did your best
to become the best
you are capable
of becoming
talent is god given
be humble
fame is man-given
be grateful
conceit is self-given
be careful
the main ingredient
of stardom
is the rest of the team
the worst thing
about new books
is that they keep us
from reading the old ones
there are many things
that are essential
to arriving
at true peace of mind
and one of the most important
is faith
which cannot be acquired
without prayer
things turn out best
for the people
who make the best
of the way things turn out
what you are
as a person
is far more important
that what you are
as a basketball player
young people need models
not critics
you can’t let praise
or criticism
get to you
It’s a weakness
to get caught up
in either one
you can’t live
a perfect day
without doing something
for someone
who will never
be able
to repay you
• • •
words by: John Wooden 1910 – 2010
opening by: rob kistner © 2010
•
you were my truest friend
my steady rock of safety
my captain of escape
you were always there
the amazing man of magic
the hero of the weak
defender of the helpless
my always gentle friend
when the footsteps in the hall
woke me in the night
I would feel you tug my hand
and under we would go
through the secret passage
you kept beneath my bed
to the waiting viking ships
and off to fight the dragons
in the land of snow and castles
carved from clear blue ice
in our robes of fur
we struck with swords of gold
you were very brave
in the face of fear
I knew you would appear
never laughing at my tears
when the grating metal rasp
of door latch in the dark
would bolt me from my sleep
you would have the horses ready
we would thunder off to dry gulch
to wrangle up our posse
save the townfolk from the bad guys
and return when all was calm
you were very swift
in a snap you would arrive
in time to get me out alive
helping me survive
below the ocean we would dive
in your crystal submarine
down to the coral world
marveling at the creatures
we would leave the sub
to swim among the wonders
to dart and spin and float
far from pain and worry
you were very smart
my midnight flight arranger
to rocket us from danger
far from the evil stranger
we would soar to venus
in your silver ship
or to some distant star
and do battle with space monsters
and when they all were slain
we would fly the milky way
circle all the planets
thankful to be weightless
no matter how afraid
I knew that you would find me
knew you’d never judge me
I knew how much you loved me
knew you’d have me back by day break
with the dark night far behind us
and the warmth of welcomed sun
would once again embrace us
the midnight footsteps now are quiet
the ships and rockets sailed away
no more trouble comes to dry gulch
the crystal sub now long in dry dock
I’m not sure I ever thanked you
perhaps took your love for granted
without you I’d never have made it
I never will forget you
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
I have fondled
the fabric of fame
and now you look
for a pattern in my life
a tincture in my clarity
a glitch in my resolve
you seek the proof
that I will forsake decency
doff this cloak of dignity
don the garb of lechery
but your search is futile
no such precedent will you find
my integrity will not crumple
I will not capitulate
not for weighty purse
nor promised power
there is nothing material
can turn my heart from love
• • •
Purse Department Sign
•
never fondle
crumple
or capitulate
strange sign
to be found
in the purse department
proof
there is a glitch
in the pattern of logic
that no tincture
of common sense
can cure
any comparison
to sapient demeanor
is futile
so I doff my robes of reason
and don the garb of lunacy
• • •
The image of this plate above, this week’s prompt at Magpie Tales, immediately put me in mind of serenity. Also, while the plate may be Chinese in origin, it also made me think of the ancient Japanese poetic form called tanka.
Tanka are 31-syllable poems that have been the most popular form of poetry in Japan for at least 1300 years. As a form of poetry, tanka is older than haiku, and tanka poems are evocative.
During Japan’s Heian period (794-1185 A.D.) it was considered essential for a woman or man of culture to be able to both compose beautiful poetry and to choose the most aesthetically pleasing and appropriate paper, ink, and symbolic attachment—such as a branch, a flower—to go with it.
Tanka have changed and evolved over the centuries beyond the traditional expressions of passion and heartache, and styles have changed to include modern language — but the form of five syllabic units containing a total of 31 syllables has remained the same.
Each line of a tanka consists of one image or idea. One does not seek to “wrap” lines in tanka, though in the best tanka, the five lines flow seamlessly into one thought or feeling.
This particular visual prompt also sparked my recall of a simple, but wonderful piece of art I discovered a few years back, entitled “Blue Temple†by Vorffy.
So here I present my tanka entitled “Blue Templeâ€, including for your pleasure, the Vorfffy art piece of the same name.
•
birds in the blue sky
sampans on the blue waters
blue temple gateways
serenity is sacred
approach with your heart open
• • •
rob kistner © 2010