Category: mystery

And So

“sweet memories of my youth”

 

And So

~

and so
I think of her
and wonder

what was the fire
that burned so bright
and raged so fierce
as to consume complete

our essence
left embered char
smoldered ashen

that in its heat
and fury
could not sustain

back I drift
to fall upon
the tenderness of youth

the satin skin
the comely gaze
the velvet touch

a silken voice
rising
to lust and longing

to impatience

to immortality

its soulful siren
so seductive
the nectar of all forbidden

the breathless joy
of sweet innocence

when the wonder
stirs to every mystery
and the spirit lights
to every spark

igniting passion’s pyre

to leave one spent
in blissful ruin
at story’s end

tender memory
of the throaty whispers
of promised pleasures
sweetly secreted
in her virgin kiss

and so
I think of her

remembering
with no regret

savoring the subtle linger
harbored in my heart
of the taste
of her lips

long ago
at seventeen

~ ~

“lips lush as cognac
open softly to kisses
urgently linger”

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 2019)

________________

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click here to read more poetry at dVerse

Clarion Stones

  • revised for Lillian at dVerse Poet’s Pub


     
    Clarion Stones

    ~

    all those years ago
    in the time of dangers
    they were placed in secret
    as a silent beacon
    in that deepest night

    waiting for the day
    when the shadowed world
    would waken from the nightmare
    shed its narrow petty ways
    and embrace the way of light

    stacked by those of vision
    blessed in hope and courage
    one upon the other
    like knowledge upon learning
    these standing stones of peace

    hear them call across the ages
    and beckon us to rise
    to step into the future
    to envision a new dream
    to let fear and hatred cease

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 1/22/19)


    67F4B295-9233-407D-934F-9CA3C5A2B3F5
    stacked stones in Sedona red-rock desert

    _______________________

    These sculptures are called cairns. A cairn is a human-made balanced stack of stones. The word cairn comes from the Scottish Gaelic: càrn. Cairns have been, and still are used for a broad variety of purposes, from prehistoric times to the present. They are stacked as landmarks, direction finders, memorials, and also spiritual reasons, among other purposes.

  • Check out more shedding at dVerse:

    Shed some light on this today!

    • Daredevil’s Dread

     

    Daredevil’s Dread

    ~

    to be shot from a cannon
    into the cool night air
    is really no big deal

    to face a barrage
    of flying knives
    isn’t really that unreal

    to leap through the fire
    of a flaming hoop
    the warmth is kind’a nice

    jumping giant chasms
    on two-wheeled fury
    sure – let’s do it twice

    to be blown up
    in a speeding car
    sort’a turns me on

    falling 20-story
    from a skyscraper
    I’m up over and gone

    riding upside down
    on an airplane wing
    it’s the only way to fly

    the high trapeze
    without a net
    I wouldn’t bat an eye

    buried alive
    in a padlocked tomb
    count 10 and I’ll cheat death

    chained in steel
    tossed in the sea
    no need to hold my breath



    the sphere of fear
    the dome of doom
    the bungee-cord freefall

    to walk blazing coals
    swallow deadly swords
    no sweat — I’ve done them all

    almost nothing scares
    this bold daredevil
    I am very proud to say

    save the single thing
    of which I’m terrified

    to give my heart away



    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revised © 2018)

    ____________________________________

  • top 2 photos: Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus
  • bottom photo: source unknown

    • Hedone’s Daughter

  • WARNING! For adult readers only!

    •  

    loves-serenade

     

    Hedone’s Daughter

    ~

    radiant vision silken skinned
    translucent alabaster blaze
    torrid as a teen’s temptation
    leaned low
    here before me
    yearning

    straplened ankles fragile turned
    stiletto’d rise
    on carpet soft
    emblazened vixen
    forward bent
    availed so boldly
    flush with craving

    graceful face
    brazen aglow
    comely raised and tilted back
    my fingers tangled in your hair
    lifting firm
    yet luscious slow

    swept away in lustful swoon
    forearms rest on velvet sheets
    eyes aflame in sapphire need
    blatant in your fetched seduction

    Hedone’s daughter lush with Spring
    smouldering
    in golden light
    that folds upon you soft as satin
    ‘cross nape of neck
    arched silk desire

    down glistening back
    that tempting tapers
    to the tender
    warm and sultry
    wonderland for fingertips
    to touch
    and tease
    and tantalize

    to explore
    your quivering body
    soul-addictive
    luscious
    grand
    divinely-pleasing sculpted vessel
    brought forth by Aphrodite’s hand

    virgin fruit swells full and ripe
    flesh silhouette to hypnotize
    enticing in the candle’s flicker
    fondled by my hungry eyes

    they stroke and tweak
    the blossomed berries
    that burst
    engorged with passion’s heat

    that taunt my tongue to twirl ’round
    my teeth to nip in playful tug
    draw to my lips
    now lewdly moist
    to take
    and taste in eager suckle

    willful hands
    of pleasured probing
    wrap slender waist
    then slowly slide
    ‘cross pleading hips
    of sensuous rise
    to fall into erotic folds
    molded from the charms of Venus

    ’round dual swells of burning myth
    that writhe
    atop two lathen’d stems
    long and lithe
    as liquid love
    turned by pleasure’s gloried angels
    tempered in a sacred fire

    stretched taut
    raised high on tips of toes
    proud
    defined
    and goddess buff

    enough to make one
    want to stuff
    to thrust and thrust
    in randy lust
    ’til passion’s seed
    has turned to dust

    and wanton
    carnal
    flames
    are snuffed

    spring’s sweet madness
    full rebuffed

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2018)

    _____________________

  • candle photo entitled “Lovers” by: Bolshevixen

  • photographer of couple embracing unknown

  • Click to read more dVerse poems of desire

    • Life is Duality


    IMG_8613

     

    Life Is Duality

    ~

    on catching a glimpse of the Great Mystery

    I sometimes get very dark
    my emotions get brittle
    and heavy
    an anger at life swells

    every time I dig deep enough
    be it on my own
    or in counseling
    I come up against two constants

    things I cannot change
    but have left a most indelible mark

    one unfolded
    over a horrendous period
    of my early years

    the other
    happened in a horrible flash
    during my mid-life

    both so horrific
    they changed forever
    my humanity

    try as I do
    their darkness still surfaces
    and in those moments
    my inner light gets smothered

    but I will never stop facing them down
    ferociously
    when I feel their chilled grip

    that is what life is
    keeping the good fight
    and embracing
    with love and gratitude
    the beauty we have also been given

    and we have been given so much
    so amazing

    life is duality
    life is balance
    the keeping of it
    and the regaining of it
    when it’s lost

    and it DOES get lost
    at times
    very lost

    but life is an awesome opportunity
    an experience of the profound
    and mysterious

    the mystery we are not meant to solve
    but rather
    to celebrate
    with grace and wonder

    peace to all
    may love touch all of our lives
    for love is the gateway
    to the great mystery

    as John
    one of our last
    great
    modern prophets said

    love is all you need
    and in the end
    the love you take
    is equal to the love you make

    so find your lover
    and make love
    with great freedom
    abandon
    gratitude

    and the power of the spheres

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2013

    Cloistered

  • This piece deals with the strange duality we all carry with us through life, the unique contradiction between the person we think we are, and the ‘many’ other persons others perceive us to be from their experience of us, as filtered through their differing individual perceptions. Fair or not, convenient or not, we are ‘judged’. Our lives are impacted to one degree or another, every day by how we measure up to each of these interpretations of the “I” we are thought to be. This includes the “I” we perceive ourselves to be. Which one is real, is valid, or is any one of them truly definitive? The phrase “I am” presents a fascinating philosophical quandary.


    image by René Magritte

     

    Cloistered

    ~

    when another
    tells you of yourself
    you’re shown the dance they see
    your outward choreography

    but you hear not of the music
    that rings true in your mind
    that leads and drives the steps
    to this inward dance they’re blind

    you are shown the reflection
    not the light that shines inside
    that illuminates your soul
    to guide your steps and stride

    are we the I that we know
    the self that we so treasure
    or are we in fact the other
    the one the others measure

    for if the valid I
    be the one that is most known
    then we are in fact that I
    the one to ourselves not shown

    for surely when compared
    the majority story shared
    is of the outward other
    the one seen by another

    and so we live our life
    cloistered in this other
    and live this life alone
    even when by many known
    for the I that’s outward shown
    is the I that’s not our own

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    • Morphling


    image by Francesca Woodman

     

    Morphling

    ~

    I will not be confined
    always in motion
    eternal ebb and flow
    perpetual like the seas

    my spirit an eternal liquid
    in everlasting flux
    expands unrestrained
    seeking freedom

    I will not be defined
    my nature is fluid
    my essence is turbulent
    deep but ever changing

    my heart in constant surge
    challenges boundary
    seeking balance that is mine
    to change at will

    reach not for me
    I will not be held
    do not name me
    I will not be yours

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Perception’s Window


    artwork by Jack Vettriano

     

    Perception’s Window

    ~

    we are infinite beings
    awaking slowly
    from some infinite place

    our coming to be
    unknown to us as any mystery
    our essence an enigma

    learned in stories
    in waiting relationships
    gradually we open to our identity

    awareness dawns
    like the rising of a newborn sun
    breaking on our window of perception

    we feel its warmth
    and flow effortlessly into timelessness
    as though immortal

    we see not over the horizon
    for we see no horizon
    but limitless eternity

    we comprehend no end
    immersed only in the now
    given of our origin

    it is therein exists the miracle of life
    we are infinite beings in this moment
    dreaming to sustain the moment

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Yet

  • inspired by the first day I met my wife in 1987…

     

    Yet

    ~

    had she not appeared in that clearing
    so lost

    had she not crossed my threshold
    on that september day

    had not her voice
    drifted like silk on a summer breeze
    to wrap sheer and sweet
    around my heart

    had not I been drawn
    like a bloom to the morning sun

    had not I been captivated
    as a hummingbird
    by a drop of nectar
    crystal on a velvet petal

    had not my love come down
    soft as a rolling mountain meadow

    had not this dream been born

    had not my life begun again

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    • Drowning

    Drowning

    ~

    on the boulevard
    outside
    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

    lovers and their beloved
    sit by morning windows
    with tea
    and curiosity

    they talk

    in these moments
    their souls spill
    one into the other
    entranced

    somewhere
    tender lips
    are sculpting sweet words

    but here in this quiet
    I drown in your eyes
    fallen into azure pools

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

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    • Rāgarāja’s Daughter

     

    Rāgarāja’s Daughter

    •

    radiant vision silken skinned
    translucent alabaster blaze
    torrid as a teen’s temptation
    leaned low here before me yearning

    on plush cloud so sensuous
    sweet comely goddess forward bent
    graceful face aglow with craving
    you conjure ardor’s obsession

    a’bloom in beckoned fiery swoon
    forearms rest on pillow soft
    thoughts aflame in primal need
    lips burning smile a fetched seduction

    Rāgarāja’s daughter lush with Spring
    smoldering in golden light
    that folds upon you satin supple
    to bathe in warmth your arched desire

    divinely-pleasing luscious morsel
    served up by a master’s hand
    passion bound to tantalize
    to hypnotize my hungry eyes

    lost in carnal fantasy
    fired by this goddess buff
    arises now my animal
    in a beastly urgent lust

    to wrap ‘round
    this maiden magic
    flesh to flesh
    to full consume
    to thrust
    and thrust
    my randy lust
    ’til passion’s seed
    has turned to dust
    and wanton
    carnal flames
    are snuffed

    Spring’s sweet madness
    at last
    enough

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2012

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Golden Lady

     

    Golden Lady

    •

    golden lady in sensuous silk
    a beauty sure to mesmerize
    sculpted by a master’s hand
    so seductive as to scandalize

    a stare of comely crystal blue
    floats above a ruby pout
    spellbound by her magic eyes
    she holds your soul with no way out

    her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
    like a supple paintbrush flowing
    her smile will fire and hypnotize
    then wrap around you knowing

    you are now her helpless captive
    quite hopelessly addicted
    in the velvet grip of this smoldering waif
    is she an angel — or is she wicked

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Bert Stern

    The Journey

     

    The Journey

    •

    beckoned to the final tide
    called forth by the ferryman
    spirit stirs to the distant voice
    that draws you to the journey

    caught still in this mortal realm
    soul resigned to embarkation
    time folding in upon
    as slow you approach the vessel

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Mostafa Habibi

    For Naught

     

    For Naught

    •

    the virgin page taunts me

    untouched

    the bright white
    throbs like a migraine

    no burden of remorse
    no weight of mystery
    does it bear

    no sting of anger
    no wink of mirth
    does it proffer

    nothing sensual or sensitive to share

    no tale to spin
    no plot to thicken
    no coin of phrase to turn

    just vast blank space
    tormenting nothingness
    cruel emptiness
    to drain my brain

    dissonance spills through my open window
    the scatter of autumn showers
    stir of october wind
    rustle of moist leaves

    in the distance
    muffled keens
    bursts of barking
    far off yelps

    the edgy piercing din
    of dripping prowling night
    intrudes in damp insistence
    to fill my head
    fevered with frustration
    to leave not one small space for wit

    the search for insight all for naught

    no spark to light this dark
    no muse in sight

    nothing clever or profound
    in the air this night

    chilled
    slack

    uninspired

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Wonder

     

    Wonder

    •

    to grow up
    is to chase off
    our innocence
    our naïve belief
    in the world as a beautiful place
    to harden against the magic
    of our childhood dreams

    but if by chance
    we can cling to just one
    perhaps we can hold on
    to our precious sense of wonder

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • photo: “Alice in Wonderland” by Yuki Valentine