Category: love

Masquerade

…this poem was inspired by Halloween 2010 prompt #27 at Writer’s Island.

 

Masquerade

•

when donned the mask
the transformation
smoulders forth
the other

the fantasy
of your desire
carnal fire
on wings of dreams

she is she
and too
the other

unleashed at light
of passion’s moon
a masquerade
to ignite your soul

manifest at your request
sustained this night
at her delight

she is isis
she is venus

she is your every longing
loosed
to bring you every pleasure

she is everything
and all of this
bestowed
with aphrodite’s kiss

as you burn
remember this
beneath the mask
your real bliss

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Emerge In Grace

…this tanka was inspired by prompt #26 at Writer’s Island,
and by prompt #139 at One Single Impression.

 

Emerge In Grace

•

go down in trial

endure the tribulation

emerge rapt in grace

steeled by the tempering fire

molten molded pure and strong

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

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

    Champion

    Offered in response to prompt #138 at One Single Impression.




    Champion

    •

    search not in the bright lights
    that illuminate the field of glory
    nor midst the din of exaltation
    if you seek a hero’s story

    look instead outside the glare
    in the quiet place beyond
    where no accolades are strewn
    and no ivy laurels donned

    where daily life is hard
    and the living less than grand
    where the strength to persevere
    depends on the extended hand

    where the poor struggle without
    the weak endeavor day to day
    it’s here by selfless sweat of brow
    the brave endure to find a way

    willing to give all they’ve got
    to daily do what must be done
    to share when even they have not
    to face their fear not turn and run

    to reach and help the one’s in need
    to fight the fight that must be fought
    more than the words — to do the deed
    to stand and smile not shrink distraught

    it’s among these who seldom win
    yet rise each day and strive again
    it’s here your search should begin
    it’s here you’ll find your champion

    • • •


    Champion

    (tanka)

    •

    kind words quell salt tears

    strong hand steadies unsure step

    warm smile calms heart’s fear

    no praise sought or expected

    quiet humble champion

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Baby Cakes

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #22 at We Write Poems.

    Baby Cakes

    •

    crave the taste
    of my baby cakes
    seven minutes
    is all it takes

    gotta whip ‘em up
    nice and creamy
    mouthwaterin’
    moist and steamy

    oh do not rush
    you better not
    gotta get that
    little oven hot

    spread ‘em thick
    but not too quick
    steady stirrin’
    will do the trick

    ease ’em in
    slide ’em out
    hot buttered lovin’
    fresh from the oven

    • • •

    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

    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

    Over The Edge

    This piece is offered in response to visual prompt Mag 33 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post,
    also prompt 22 at Writer’s Island,
    and prompt #135 at One Single Impression.

    Over The Edge

    •

    From down there, down there,
    it’s coming from down there.
    From where — down there?
    Yes Sis, I swear!

    That horrible smell
    that’s filling the air,
    the one that’s most certainly
    impossible to bear,
    is coming from that women
    with the massive blue hair
    sitting alone on the patio chair,
    on the deck of the house,
    that’s below us — right there!

    What a putrid aroma,
    you’d think that she’d care.
    There are simply some things
    that one never should share,
    like the stink that is rising
    from that patio chair,
    on the deck of the house
    that’s below us down there.

    And the hideous color
    of that mountain of hair —
    I can’t help it, can’t help it,
    I can’t help but stare.

    It’s a tangled and horrible monument to
    a disgusting and eye-blinding
    shade of bright blue —
    and it’s causing a feeling of nausea too!

    I must look away my heads starting to whirl,
    and I feel that my toes are beginning to curl,
    I fear over the edge here I’m going to hurl —
    and I don’t want to do that in front of a girl.

    Maybe I’m wrong
    but I would assume,
    if one’s going to bathe
    in a noxious perfume,
    they’d at least have the manners
    to exhibit some pride,
    and not foul the ozone,
    instead — stay inside.

    Not to be the forecaster
    of gloom and of doom,
    but keep the eco-disaster
    contained to one room.

    And if you’re chromatically challenged my friend,
    consider the others that you might offend.
    A monumentally grotesque rat’s nest of blue,
    is not something I care to look at on you!

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    Mag 33

    The Taste

    This type of poem is known as a haibun, and combines prose with haiku. It is offered in response to the September 20th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.

    The Taste

    •

    It was an embrace I’d wished had been endless, at our tearful farewell – your body supple and warm, pulsing with life.

    lips lush as cognac
    open softly to kisses
    urgently linger

    I passed through security, turned and fixed on your gaze – prayed it was not the last time I’d look into your eyes. I wandered dazed down the ramp, to the jet that would take me to the fury of hell. I locked your face of love deep in my heart.

    That cherished image proved my grasp on sanity through two years of horror – through the sting of separation, the bitter taste of war, the foul stench of death.

    I return this day, facing reality at 30,000 feet, the salt of sadness on my lips. I am ashamed, frightened to see and touch you again, but I burn to do so.

    so different now
    my hands angry with bloodshed
    innocence is lost

    I fear a kiss from my killer’s mouth, will forever defile your precious lips – lush as sweet cognac, that day we parted.

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    NOTE: this piece is by no means a condemnation of the men and women who are sent into the teeth of hell to fight, suffer, and sometimes die. Rather, it is an expression of my deep respect for what they endure, and a quiet tear for what is so often sadly lost in so doing.

    Ripples

    Tankas inspired by this wonderful painting offered as prompt #21 at Writer’s Island,
    and by prompt #134 at One Single Impression.



    Reflections

    •

    memories of you
    ripples on a mirrored lake
    rise and drift gently
    into the golden sunlight
    carrying me on their crest

    • • •

    Joie de Vivre

    •

    clear blue summer sky
    deep azure crystalline lake
    cool breeze on my face
    fresh scent of water lilies
    ripples gently lap the boat

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • painting entitled “Fisherman” by: Vane Kosturanov

    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

    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

    Breakthrough

    …this piece is in response to the 19th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island,
    and offered for prompt 132 at One Single Impression,
    and for prompt 231 at Sunday Scribblings….




    Breakthrough

    •

    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

    • photo by: Kevin Day, digital photorendering by: rob kistner 2010