Why I Write

In response to prompt #87 at Poetic Asides




Why I Write

•

I write as proof that I exist
so as not to lose my mind

to prevent my sorrow
from choking the life
from my soul

to know what I really think
to ride the currents of my joy
and laughter

to track my growth
share what I have experienced
shed light on my ignorance
to leave my trace

expose my vulnerability
in hopes others won’t rebuke
banish
or hurt me
but rather see me worthy of mercy
of love
to see me not so unlike themselves
and have pity

because there is an urge
to break the mental silence
to make a din
create a literate clatter
to be certain I am not ignored
forgotten
or misunderstood

because I am sad
I am crazy
I am odd
I am insecure
I am lonely
frightened
cursed
clever

because I am thrilled
full of life
nearing death
desperate to know
confident in my knowledge

because I am entangled
and strangled
by the why of it all

because I can
and so that I might

for all of this
I write

and to survive
I have no choice

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


In A Heartbeat

In response to prompt #52 at Carry On Tuesday, and prompt #115 at One Single Impression




In A Heartbeat

•

the trip to visit you
is filled with memories
sweet anticipation
knowing the warmth of your hello
the strength of your handshake
your fond embrace

the stretch down I-5
we’re laughing and singing
miles zipping by
till we spy your exit

then west toward the coast
a quiet buzz of excitement
fills the car

at last we catch sight of your vineyards
as we crest big rock ridge

then the left turn
down your valley road
so beautiful
so familiar

hands on the wheel
I anticipate every bend and rise
every dip
exhilarating
as I navigate the gorgeous vistas

the sound of our tires
as they trundle ‘cross
the narrow wooden bridge
that fords your stream
boulder’d and crystal clear
as it tumbles and falls
brisk from mountain snow-pack

coming round
we see the corridor
of faithful old-growth firs
stepping back for us
inviting our return

the regal mountains reign
high above
granting us safe passage

boughs bend
branches sway
celebrating that we are back
when your gate comes into view
swung open in welcome

it’s left up your gravel drive
the pebble and crushed rock
crunch and clatter in stony rustle
as we traverse your hill
to see you and Michelle
cuddled on your porch swing
your family pouring down the steps
into the yard
beaming bright eyed
arms open for embrace

six hours and 300 miles
separate us
but the journey always goes by
in a heartbeat

the road to a friend’s house is never long

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


NaPoWriMo #29

This is my Twenty-ninth, and penultimate post for National Poetry Month 2010

____________________________________

…this poem was inspired by D.S. Apfelbaum’s day 29 post at readwritepoem…

____________________________________

 

Space Is

•

a lightless void of soundless vacuum
spinning masses of revolving orbs
hurtling fragments in crystalline vapors

molten cores
mingled gasses
dead husks
black holes

magnetic icefalls
plasma rain
liquid lightening
solid clouds

attractions and repulsions
of precarious fragility

a frozen dance of chaos
on the tentative edge of balance

unfounded fear
unquenchable wonder
unrealized dreams
ultimate frontier

relativity’s fabric
tangled in the cloth of time

reality’s illusion
set in fantasy’s foundation

ceaseless hope
endless adventure
unexpected catastrophe
boundless courage

humankind’s triumph and sad folly
the seductive promise of the future

our salvation
infinity’s threshold
the eternal question
the elusive answer

the everlasting bastion
of never-ending truth

a longing call
a constant listening
a driving force
a reason why

fountainhead of myths
spark of religions
and other superstitions
home of the gods

magnificent obscurity
a source of mystery
font of knowledge
cause of fiction

the unknown of the unknowable
nothingness absolute

the billions and the billions
ever expanding everything

…space is

• • •



rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

artwork entitled “Infinity’s Door” by: rob kistner © 1998

____________________________________

…see what offerings are this day at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #28 – part 2:

This is part 2 of my twenty-eighth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one ecstatic poem


____________________________________

…this first poem was inspired by Julie Jordan Scott’s day 28 at readwritepoem
the second is an edited rewrite of a poem I wrote a couple of years ago that I wanted to share…

____________________________________


In following Julie’s suggestion that we let intuition guide us to a theme, a subject, essentially to the “prompt” for this poem for day 28 of NaPoWriMo 2010 — what presented itself to me several times was a question. Why do I write poetry? The answer that surfaced — for my personal solace, my peace of mind, for my sanity. Thus came forth the prompt for this day.

 

Sanity

•

in the sorrowing hours
at full depth of night

alone with my thoughts
my terrors
my dreams

sculpting words into wedges
that pry open my psyche

expose raw emotion

lay bare my soul

that I might glimpse who really I am
and be certain still that I feel

here is my sanity

• • •

 

____________________________________

 

∞

•

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

∞

•


• poem and ecstatic by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…see what else was intuited this day at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #27

This is my twenty-seventh post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one acrostic
• one tanka


____________________________________

• inspired by Carolee Sherwood ‘s day 27 prompt at read write poem to write an acrostic

____________________________________


 

Evolution

•

Even in chaos nature finds balance.

Violent floods beget fertile fields.

One thing ends, another begins.

Life is a cycle of birth and death.

Untamed wildfire creates forest ash.

The ashen remains nurture growth again.

In the caterpillar lives the butterfly.

One thing ends, another begins.

Now and forever, the mandella spins.

• • •

 

____________________________________


 

Stone Fox First

•

garage sound check great

groupies at the ludlow door

allmans soon to start

damned duane is still m-i-a

we stone fox boys are ready

• • •


• acrostic and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…check out who’s gettin’ acrostic at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #26 – Power / Alternatives

This is my twenty-sixth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one tanka


____________________________________

• inspired by Jill Crammond Wickham’s day 26 prompt at read write poem

____________________________________


 

Power

•

let us speak of power

the writer’s words
the artist’s eye
the craftsman’s hands
the singer’s voice
the player’s soul
the actor’s courage

all who rise up in creativity
to share their gift

who elevate our humanness
shun our negative self

who share their spirit to inspire

who see great possibility
in the face of great challenge

who will not succumb
but prevail
as a kindled flame
to light our darkness

theirs is the power
they are the powerful
for they empower

• • •

 

____________________________________


 

Alternatives

•

three hundred miles gone

we’re just above dream canyon

big storm front building

cycles won’t make the snow pass

guess we point our two wheels south

• • •


• poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…check out the other offerings at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #25 – part 3: The Circle Game

This is part 3 of my twenty fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010

…this poem was inspired by the April 25th prompt at Poetic Asides — write a poem inspired by a song…

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In considering today’s Day 25 prompt by Robert Lee Brewer at Poetic Aides, I was drawn to the taxing journey that is NaPoWriMo every year — which caused me to reflect on the larger journey that is life itself. The journey we all take, different though they may be.

Such a long way I’ve come on this road of life. The distant horizon intersects the vanishing point of my past. Yet still, my life stretches far back over that horizon, into the fog of memory — past vanishing point upon vanishing point. So great is the distance, that recollection staggers me.

The miles I’ve traveled, the experiences I’ve gathered, the people I’ve known — these are a part of me. Likewise, the joy, laughter, pain, tears — the fear, courage, the battles won and lost, the scars… these are all fibers of my being. As is the love, hate, compassion, exhilaration, desperation, wonder, the discovery — through the days, weeks, months, though the seasons, the years.

So many lifetimes I’ve consumed, so many different people I have been. Each unique and precious, even the most painful — for they are my collective self. All has knitted together, folding and building upon itself, to create this journey that is me. I am defined by my journey, and by my journey, I am known to others — this man of 63, still seeking enlightenment and actualization.

Robert has inspired me to share a poem by Joni Mitchell, to which I have added a poem in the form of three verses. I made a draft attempt to do this 3 years ago but abandoned the project. Now I am motivated to complete the endeavor.

My poem will appear italicized and in a different font color, blended into the body of Joni’s poem. Joni put her poem to music. Entitled the “The Circle Game”, it first appeared in April of 1970, on her “Ladies of the Canyon” album. I have always been drawn to the magic of these words. I find it a brilliant reflection on the journey of life.

Joni is one of the finest female poets of our time, a fact sadly often overlooked, because of her great success in music. She is also an exceptional artist. Click here if you would like to go to her site and “discover” this brilliant, and still active, creative soul.

I’ve done my best not to spoil the power of what was originally written. Here is Joni Mitchell’s beautiful “The Circle Game”, begging your indulgence of my humble additions.


 

The Circle Game

•

yesterday a child came out to wonder
caught a dragonfly inside a jar
fearful when the sky was full of thunder
and tearful at the falling of a star

then the child moved ten times round the seasons
skated over ten clear frozen streams
words like, when you’re older, must appease him
and promises of someday make his dreams

sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
they tell him, take your time, it wont be long now
till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

so the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
there’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
before the last revolving year is through

and the seasons they go round and round
and the painted ponies go up and down
we’re captive on the carousel of time
we can’t return, we can only look behind
from where we came
and go round and round and round
in the circle game

the hands of time swing round faster and faster
life begins to carve his journey in this man’s face
a successful man with riches, but he wonders
how long past 40 can he keep this pace

suddenly he’s looking back at 60
he’s known tragedy and triumph both the same
he’s borrowed bought and sold his way to power
he’s leveraged his soul to play the game

now an old man gazing out his window
trying to remember how long it’s rained
he sits alone here by the fire in contemplation
was all he lost worth what it was he gained

and the seasons they go round and round
and the tides of fate they go up and down
we’re captive in the ebb and flow of time
we can’t return, we can only look behind
from where we came
as we take our final turn
in the circle game

• • •



copyright © Siquomb Publishing Company
additional verses by: rob kistner © 2010


____________________________________


…photo of Joni Mitchell from her website, Joni Mitchell.com

NaPoWriMo #25 – part 2: Fissures

This is part 2 of my twenty fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010

…this piece that follows was inspired by prompt #113 at One Single Impression

____________________________________


 

Fissures

•

life is generous
with the good and bad
countless experiences
joyous and sad

it would appear
you’ve had your share
you’ve garnered wisdom
learned how to care

you have known joy
you’ve tasted pain
stricken with sorrow
but smiled again

there have been hardships
and there’s been blessings
helpless frustrations
moments of guessing

tears cried for others
fears of your own
you’ve not always reaped
what it is you’ve sown

you’ve been envied
but you’ve been loved
you’ve helped pull through
been rudely shoved

rightly praised
and wrongly treated
momentarily dazed
but not defeated

you’ve been criticized
words harshly spoken
you’ve been knocked
but never broken

through it all
you have persisted
you have endured
and you’ve resisted

the easy temptation
to harbor hate
never blaming others
for what is your fate

you’ve steered clear fissures
not fallen in cracks
kept moving forward
not looking back

now your facial fissures
those knowledge tracks
display those proudly
when you smile back

you’ve been a good man
since your youth
time is witness
to this truth

the testimony
shines with grace
it’s etched indelibly
in your face

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


…photograph by: Mehmet Akin

NaPoWriMo #24 – part 3: Evensong

This is part 3 of my twenty fourth post for National Poetry Month 2010

…this poem was inspired by the April 24th prompt at Poetic Asides — write an evening poem…

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Evensong

•

as dusk descends upon this place
my stride holds smooth and steady
with grace and heady expectation
the downing sun a gentle gold embrace

early shadows fall soft across my face
as vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes its comfort ’round my shoulders
splendid calm envelops me

there is still some road to travel
I am eager to keep the journey
drawn by the beauty
that is the rising moon in sunset

facing into the evening breeze
I venture onward toward my love
rolling amber fires the lane
spreads warm ‘cross the horizon

a fog begins to rise and waft
I see nestled in the valley
my blessed hearth & home
veiled copper in eventide

my heart rises in the moment
caught up in this gorgeous vale
the ribbon of its brook entwines
wraps my soul in evensong

my smile sweetens
my pace livens
I hum a quiet melody
the wonder of another day

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


…artwork entitled “Evening Glory” by: Steven Mitchell

NaPoWriMo #24 – part 2: His Cane

This is part 2 of my twenty fourth post for National Poetry Month 2010

…this piece that follows was inspired by the April 23rd prompt at Magpie Tales

____________________________________


 

His Cane

•

he is a stern man
she knows it
she finds him irresistible

she loves his stern face
his stern smile
his stern voice

she knows him
like no other
she has seen through
the part in the curtain

she knows the taste of his kiss
the twinkle in his stern eyes
she adores the touch
of his strong stern hands

warm sure hands

so too
she loves his cane

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


____________________________________

Come on Carey get out your cane
I’ll put on some silver
Oh you’re a mean old Daddy
But I like you

•
…lyrics from “Carey”
by: Joni Mitchel 1971
____________________________________


NaPoWriMo #23 – Skyward Suite / Midnight Gliding

This is my twenty-third post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one three-poem suite

• one tanka

____________________________________

• the first poem is inspired by Sage Cohen’s day 23 prompt at read write poem

____________________________________




Spread Offense

•

…making PB&J, as a wrestling match…


it appears everything is ready
for a great competition today

this has been the moment
we’ve anticipated
since the TV was paused
some 5 to 6 minutes ago

the first jar has made its appearance
I see the knife on the sideline
and the napkins indicate
they are ready
standing by
in case of accident

hands baxter signals
he’s ready

looks like tonight it will be wood
yes
it is
the wood cutting board for this one
and it seems to be
it is
recycled material
well done

hands is reaching across the table now
grabbing hold of the plastic flap
he’s got a solid grip on the bread
with a swift and practiced maneuver
he wrestles two pieces to their backs
firmly on the board

he now grabs the jar by the lid
raises it to his chest
and
and
he’s struggling
can’t seem to…
no wait
hands has done it
the lid is free of the jar

he now has the knife in his right hand
and with deep probing jabs
he’s bringing blade full
after blade full
with deft swirling motions
from the jar
and spreading it layer after layer
on the helpless bread
unable to budge from the board

we just got a report
that the bread is indeed
honey oat nut
these are all first string players in this one

well
it appears hands has won the first
of what will be three contests
he has successfully achieved P and B tonight
and with great flair

no drops
goops
no tears

masterfully done

there was that incident
with the tongue on the flat of the blade
but it was apparently a clean move
so no penalty assessed

we’re out of time for now
we will have to wait until next time
to see if grape
the big jar
makes it into the match
as hands baxter will be going for J
in the next round

if he can make it that far
then the big finale will be milk
so don’t miss that one

this is voice gruffly signing off
inviting you to stay with us
through this PB&J regional series
to see if baxter builds a big one

that’s all from here

• • •


____________________________________


Skyward Suite




I Am Balloon

•

I will see the earth today
as the heated air
fills my billows
I am aloft
in free floating flight
to abandon all control

I will resound to the earthbound
listen to their voices rise

tune to the animals
their symphony of sounds

I will drift as far and as long
as fuel and time permits
feel the wind take me

I will soar so high
leave the treetops
far below
until all I hear
is the voice of the breeze

see the world
bend away
over the horizons

see all it’s wonders
all of nature
the random
and the regimented
the wild
and geometric

I will see it all
from a different perspective

swept up in ever-climbing
silent ascent



• • •




I Am Bird

•

I will glide
in buoyed flight

I will soar skyward
in sweeping circles

lift high on mighty thermals
never again to be earthbound

not a prisoner of this stone and clay
no longer captive of gravity today

this day will be soaring
and swooping
and diving

giving thanks for feathers
and hollow bones



• • •




I Am Kite

•

the breeze of promise begins to freshen
waft and build
it gathers strength

belief awakens
I quicken
anticipation spirals anew

the building currents draw taut my line
with an urgent tug the moment arrives

I billow
stand and dance
my sail-skin fills

my leading edge
aerodynamic
sculpted tight against my frame

caught full by the mounting breeze
I lift with grace
rise with purpose

deft hands
and a most careful eye
guide me safely airborne

further faster I ascend
carried skyward on friendly drafts

empowered by winds of fortune
this day I have taken flight

• • •

 

____________________________________


 

Midnight Gliding

•

high meadow sparkles

crisp snow crunches under skis

midnight cross country

the landscape glows alien

like gliding across the moon

• • •


• poems and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…check out the other odd couples at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #22 – The Gaia Suite

This is my Twenty-second post for National Poetry Month 2010
• an Earth Day message
• two tankas
• one prayer


____________________________________

• • Happy Earth Day • •

____________________________________


• Go and visit the Earth Day Action Center 2010, and please — be aware!




An Earth Day message:

These are some thoughts I would like to share on this Earth Day 2010. It is from my heart, and expresses my great concern for this planet earth, and all of us who are traveling aboard her. If you are not in the mood for heavier fare, you can skip down to the poetry below this message.

For the rest of you, I see our global society becoming more and more desensitized to killing, suffering, the dignity of women, our failing stewardship of this planet, and the value of life in general.

Popular art reflects culture; it has in all of history. The ongoing proliferation of movies, video games, music, comic books, our dress and personal trappings, TV, even the TV commercials; this all cast a disturbing reflection of the direction a core section of the people of the earth are moving. And the less than subtle movement to cast doubt, even ridicule, on those who believe that the care of this world needs our attention NOW! One might argue that any of these individually is perhaps moot, but taken as whole, it begs to be examined — I feel.

Our children and adults alike, spend hours playing graphic video games in which the sole purpose is bloodletting — maiming and murdering, in the most violent and gruesome ways. There are many wonderful video games, but the breadth and depth of the “snuff” games is cause to pay attention.

The gladiator-like fighting cultures that have arisen in recent years is something to look at. These are no longer the staged violence of pro wrestling, in itself a bit unsettling – these are real blood for the sake of blood. In Rome, the rise of gladiators was a sign of the accelerating decline of the Roman Empire. We may not be there yet, but what does this current, rampant thirst for blood have to tell us?

Another litmus that has always reflected the culture, is the impact of man’s religious constructs. Too often, the role they play is the manipulation and repression of his freedoms. I have nothing against the numerous religious constructs man has created. For those so drawn, they are a place for the safety and certainty they require.

However, when radical religious minorities begin to attempt to dictate and rule the masses, imposing their constructed values and fundamentalism, especially when they claim it is the will of god – we’ve got to take serious notice.

These are the signs that point to the stripping of freedom of responsible individual thought and personal rights – and essentially, eradicating the essence of personal responsibility. Today, with the rise of the repressive extreme fundamentalism that we see around the globe, it is akin to the eve of the dark ages. I don’t think we will descend to those extreme depths, but what does it mean when we have so many who would lead us there – even if, in some cases, it is unwittingly?

I so want to champion optimism — but I cannot and will not turn a blind eye to the signs I see. None of us had better do so. We all need to become proactive for balance. That is the key. Balance the extremes of this world; ecological, social, moral, financial, and the like.

To be proactive I have started this creative blog, Image & Verse, to begin, in my small way, to penetrate the root sensitivity of our society. I firmly believe the embrace and expression of creativity is the key to elevating our human species.

I write poetry, speaking in sparse focused voice at times, entertaining lofty and beautiful thoughts at others, also embracing our human sensitivity and sensuality, and holding a mirror to reflect what is beautiful, or to reflect what I see as troubling — because I believe poetry has the power to penetrate the human psyche to greater depths than any written form.

Poetry actually has the ability to alter people on a level that strict written word often cannot. If I write an essay, I make you think; maybe even alter your opinion. I write a poem, I have the chance to make you feel something, in your core – that can alter your hardwired being. I believe this.

I think we urgently need to probe to these depths of the human psyche now, to send out these altering sparks, because I think there is trouble brewing, on some fronts, that could have dire consequence for the long-range future – of the planet and humankind.

I also write poetry to celebrate, to lift up my own spirit, to have hope, to see possibility – to protect my personal sanity.

So let us dance, sing, embrace the beauty and the miracle of life and this magnificent world in which we live, and seek joy and truth – but let us not be a Nero. Our Rome is beginning to smolder.

–and so it goes–
…Rob

____________________________________

…this art piece immediately below is entitled “Gaia Yields” by: rob kistner © 2007…


The Gaia Suite

Gaia Weeps

•

man seeks dominion

frail balance has been disturbed

gaia is weeping

man clings to his arrogance

denial does not absolve



Gaia Yields

•

seeds push seeking sun

sky is pulling with spring rain

gaia yields new life

if man is responsible

the balance can be restored



Prayer For Balance

•

mother gaia you embrace us
carry us safely
as we hurtle thousands of miles
every hour of every day
through infinite space

you provide for us our every need
sustain our bodies with your abundance
nurture our spirits with your beauty
your endless wonders

your need is simple

that we live in balance with your rhythms
with our fellow travelers on this amazing journey

that we know gratitude
humble stewards of your countless gifts

for millennium upon millennium
we lived in harmony
attentive
reverent
but we’ve grown arrogant

foolishly
we believe we have dominion over you
over all in your realm

in pursuit of intellect we lost our sense
our equilibrium
lost our way

even as we watch you suffer
we cling to our ego
to our destructive delusion of supremacy

we do not see
do not understand

please forgive us
be patient
do not forsake us
we can learn
we must learn

love for you is still strong
among your wayward children

this voice of love cries out
please listen
it resonates more loudly with the passing of time

precious mother gaia
grant us time to again find our way
our humility
our center

the balance

• • •

• tankas and prayer by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________
…thanks to Catherine for her prompt, and check out the other offerings at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #21

This is my twenty-first post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one short prose

• one tanka

____________________________________

• inspired by Kristen McHenry’s prompt at read write poem

____________________________________




As I age, my imperfections begin to manifest themselves more and more. I once was young, and handsome, and strong – but that all is waning, and I sometimes feel despair. But the irony here is that, in seeing and feeling more and more acutely, my imperfections, it also eventually shines a light on how fortunate I have been in my life – and the despair often shifts to tearful gratitude… even joy! That is what this poem is about.

 

Chill Winds

•

chill winds of time
rise in dissonance
seasons of cold rain
hiss and tick
my weathered panes

life’s essence
slowly slips my being’s grip
it’s warmth
ever-fading

the pall and ache
wrap firm my bones
suppress my spirit
slowly steal my living core

I despair of rigid form
drained of vital sap
drawn and withered
robbed of flex and grace

my light of memory dims
my pool of knowledge clouds

dear and beloved go
one by one
beyond my call
beyond the joy and chaos
of this temporal plane

what remains is sorrowed pain
and sinking will

then you call my name
beckon me to your embrace
to sooth and comfort my discontent
to draw me into your love

I see again that life’s been good
that we are blessed to have known all this
and in that moment

joy

• • •

 

____________________________________


 

Above It All

•

I want to live in a treehouse
way up high in the branches
of a big redwood

several observation platforms
at different levels
as you hand-wench yourself
into the forest canopy

* optional motorized system

a three-story treehouse
huge wrap around porches
at each level

the top level
one big open room

a place I could write
work on my art

where my wife kathy
could have her fiberart studio
her big toika loom
several navajo hand looms
assembly tables
all her “found” stuff
so key to her abstract soft-sculptures

the roof
one big deck

being able to see
far as the eye could see
so very liberating
exhilarating

riding out big storms
like flying
but anchored
secure

our treehouse
would be made of
anodized aluminum
stone
leathers
and wood
many woods
teak, cedar, oak, maple, and walnut
lots of tempered crystal-clear acrylic

I’d hand feed the eagles
the hawks, the osprey
certainly in my mind

I’d run guywires
slide lines
between tree tops

we could soar
through the sun-dappled canopy

a place high up
where I could work, live, dance, laugh
in the nude
if I wanted

and make love to my wife
windows wide open
the sun and breeze
free to come and go

no comments from
or concerns of
neighbors

where I could crank up my jazz

I want to live in a treehouse
in our treehouse
and truly be
what I’m often accused of being

removed
above it all

• • •

 

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Jumping

•

hunched down leaned forward

rising with knees soundly gripped

jumping big horses

clearing hurdles one by one

keep him reined but let him run

• • •


• poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

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…check out the other splendid imperfections at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #19 – Ah Hah!

This is my nineteenth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one limerick
• one tanka


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• inspired by Rallentanda’s day 19 prompt at read write poem

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Surplus

•

it struck me the moment I met you
I just didn’t want to upset you
didn’t know how you’d act
if I acknowledged the fact
but now that you’ve asked guess I’ll have to

I know that we’ve only just met
it’s not something I’ll soon forget
but since you want to know
I’ll deliver the blow
but wait cause I’m not ready yet

I fear I’ll be breaking your heart
perhaps tearing your world apart
dropping this kinda news
is like lighting a fuse
so please give me a running head start

this is not what I’d hoped to discuss
and you must know you’ve got a surplus
but man in those slacks and shirt
you’d make a blind man’s eyes hurt
so, do you hold that thing up with a truss

• • •



…now before anyone judge me too harshly, let it be known that I have more in common with this gentleman than I care to admit, and — I couldn’t help myself, I believe the devil made me write this…

 

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Eureka

•

it’s as clear as day

nothing needed to be said

it’s so obvious

should have seen it right away

suddenly it was – Of Course!

• • •


• limerick and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

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…check out the other ah-hah’s at readwritepoem

Pre-Dawn Window



 

Pre-Dawn Window

•

in this moonlit forest
midnight shimmers
through the misty boughs of old growth
as if star clusters dance the branches
above our high-mountain meadow
lake aglow like sterling satin

like a crystalline wonderland
this night holds deep and quiet
save a great white owl
echoing through the sparkling cedars

lover and beloved
we entwine
wrapped in a pre-dawn half-wake
a semi-lucid trance
be-dazzled by the spectacle
just outside our window

I hear myself whisper
how long have I been awake
is it morning
yet I do not want to know
I do not want to break this spell

but rather
to lie here in your arms
and fall again
into gentle slumber
to traverse with you
the time and space of dreams

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

• photorendering entitled “Moonlit Waters” – by: Daniel Pierce
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…catch the other differences at Carry On Tuesday