Blue Temple

…response to prompt #14 from Magpie Tales



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 Temple”, including for your pleasure, the Vorfffy art piece of the same name.

_____________________________




Blue Temple

•

birds in the blue sky

sampans on the blue waters

blue temple gateways

serenity is sacred

approach with your heart open

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


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


Boxes – Contemplation in 3 Parts

In response to the Ist prompt on the newly opened We Write Poems, I contemplate boxes




Boxes

Contemplation #1

•

my memories gather and squabble
like crows in fallow fields
they pick clean
the bones of my recall

bones against the cruel clay
of an arid barren mind

bones spilled from soul boxes
in which I’d desperately collected
the scarred and damaged pieces
of my broken dreams

dreams now parched and withered
dried brittle in the coarse winds
of my dire confusion

their promises scratched and raspy
slowly slipping unintelligible
into the chaos and cacophony
of the crows in fallow fields

• • •



Contemplation #2

•

tanka

wonder’s trapped within
a box within more boxes
so deeply buried
by the years of failed dreams
you must not lose your wonder

• • •



Contemplation #3

•

tanka

love is sealed within
a box locked inside your heart
lost in the rubble
of years of broken promise
you can find it if you look

• • •



rob kistner © 2010

Stowaway

In response to the 2nd prompt on the newly re-opened Writer’s Island, I step from my place of hiding




Stowaway

•

slowly
with great caution
in halting measured step
I creep from sanctuary dark
to leave this place of safety

to sidle in uncertainty
into the chafing
cutting light

head bowed
spirit crushed
tensed for flight

emerging
visible again
though barely

poised to recoil
from any sudden emotion

long now in hiding
stowed away in sorrow
fragile as a newborn bird
unsteady as a fawn
just as frightened
as unsure

my wounded soul
took refuge in aloneness
dug in
resolved to disappear
become invisible
perhaps to die
the weight of life too great

simple breaths
a considered labor
but still I drew them
hesitantly

long I lay
shallow breathing
unwashed
unfed

resigned to simply vanish
from this hopeless realm

despaired I would never find
a reason to go on

yet slowly I emerge

but please
no impulsive expectations

permit me slow and careful evolution
from my chrysalis of anguish

let me find my way
back into the light
from my place of hiding

offer only patience
and safe distance

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


Hands of Neptune

…response to prompt #12 from Magpie Tales

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Hands of Neptune

•

like the disembodied
hands of Neptune
reaching from a rocky confine

breaking surface
into the watery realm

seeking
grasping
needing

but entombed
in a glassened globe
a crystal cage

cruelly shut away
from that which is most desired

contact
connection

prisoner
in brutal isolation
banished
even from the lesser gods

condemned eternally
to never know
the redemption of touch

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Sad Little Clown

…presented as a second gracious salute to the first prompt from Big Tent Poetry

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Sad Little Clown

•

I am the sad little clown
with the frowning face
the round red nose
and the great big tear

this meek facade
and silly sham
belie the horror
that I engineer

life’s dealt me cold
my hand is slack
not a queen
no king nor ace

the violence
that dwells within
is masked behind
my woeful face

no one suspects
the evil soul
that festers deep
in this funny fool

they know not
the monster in me
the gentle sheen
conceals the cruel

they don’t realize
a broken heart
a ruined life
makes one quite mad

they simply see
the pitiful
and painted face
that looks so sad

the shaggy coat
the baggy pants
the red suspenders
the big white glove

they do not know
it hides the hand
that choked the life
and killed their love

town after town
state after state
bodies mount
in the circus’ wake

in the dead of night
at the dark of moon
in frenzied fever
each life I take

each beautiful
each innocent
each unaware
that they would die

there will be more
on the road ahead
one for every tear
you made me cry

when the circus comes
and the tents go up
the people cheer
in each sleepy town

‘cause in their ignorance
what they don’t know
who’s really come
is the killer clown

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

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photo from: Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus

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

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…see what else was intuited this day at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #28

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


____________________________________

• inspired by day 28 of National Poetry Month

____________________________________


 

Not Spring

•

the moment of not-spring
has no bold herald
save a passing notation
on one’s calendar

easily missed

there is not a disruption
in the earth’s crust

there is no disturbance
in the air

the planets
do not misalign

the moment of not-spring
is a non-moment
as can be the moment of not-love

it can pass by unnoticed
no disruption
no disturbance

but the realization
of not-love
is a storm
more fierce
than even the worst
of spring’s fury

it can break the earth
wide open

leave one gasping
for the next breath

as all the stars
fall from heaven

• • •

 

____________________________________

 

Sweet Recall

•

fresh-placed flower scent

feel of soft grass under knee

memories still grip

more and more are sweet recall

hard tears turning to soft smiles

• • •


• poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…check out the offerings 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.

• • •

 

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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

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…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


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…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

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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 #25

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


____________________________________

• inspired by Joseph Harker’s day 25 prompt at read write poem

____________________________________

 

Hotaslava

•

I will not forget you

memory still burns
tearful recollection of the first time
my eyes beheld your luscious curves

skin smooth as satin
golden as you lay before me
seductive in the summer sun

you fired my imagination
ignited my soul

I wanted you so badly
my lips trembled
you promised such sweetness

but I’d been warned by others
who had dared indulge your fiery charms
that it would end in tears

I did not heed their counsel

seduced
I fell upon you hungrily
taking you in passion’s flames
hot as lava
scorching as an august sun

swept away
I consumed your charms
an inferno of desire

tasting your forbidden fruit
in a wanton blaze I took my fill

but just as quick it ended

I should have listened
they knew you all too well

you burned me badly
and left me crying

but I never will forget you…

…habanero

• • •



____________________________________

 

Coldasice

•

drips pizzicato

crescendo of icicles

north wind’s cadenza

wintertime’s crisp symphony

played on nature’s outdoor stage

• • •


• poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…check out the other spontaneity at readwritepoem

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