Category: photo

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…

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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


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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
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NaPoWriMo #24 – In Vain / Daddy’s Girl

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

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• This poem that follows is inspired by Marie Gauthier’s NaPoWriMo day 23 prompt at readwritepoem to find and use a colloquial phrase — and by the current frustration I am feeling trying to deliver on my promise of at least 1 poem a day for 30 days. This day I am blank – my muse is being quite difficult. So for inspiration I looked to a poem I’d written 3 years back about just such a situation of writer’s block. I wrote this new poem from those 3-year-old bones, sparked additionally by Robert Lee Brewer’s NaPoWriMo day 23 prompt at Poetic Asides: exhaustion.

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In Vain

•

the virginal glare
of the backlit void
taunts me

the tiny pulsing cursor
throbs like a migraine
in the blank white field

untouched
ignored
impatient

no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
does it bear

no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
to reflect

nothing sensual
or sensitive
to share

no coin of phrase to save

just empty screen
tormenting nothingness
30 in 30
pressing down

dissonance spills through my open window

the scatter of rain
stir of wind
rustle of wet leaves

muffled keens
bursts of barks
distant yelps

the edgy din
of dripping
prowling
april night
intrudes in damp insistence
to fill my head
and leave not one small space
for wit
or insight

all in vain

there is no spark

in this soggy midnight
left high and dry
no muse in sight
only exhaustion

nothing clever
or profound
in the air this night

chilled
slack

uninspired

• • •

 

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Daddy’s Girl

•

shy knock at front door

lovely daughter descends stairs

who is this brash boy

shake his hand or run him off

daddy’s decision is tough

• • •


• poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010


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…see what other coin of phrase you might find at readwritepoem…

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

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

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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

• • •

 

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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

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…check out the other odd couples at readwritepoem…

NaPoWriMo #21

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

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

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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

• • •

 

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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 #20 – Heroes

This is my twentieth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• two free verse poem
• one tanka

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• inspired by Jessica GC’s prompt at read write poem

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Reality At 30,000

•

(a hero returns)

distant
slurred
reverberant

like a voice in a canyon
I hear her calling in my mind
my name
rolling sweet as nectar
from lips soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach
glistening deep coral
as they wrapped softly
‘round each pouted syllable
when she bid me tender farewell
so long ago

our fingertips had strained to grasp
until the final sensation of warmth
of touch
had faded
and they had drifted apart

I had struggled to tear my eyes
from her tears
that glistened on her lashes
and around her swollen crystal blue eyes
to slip softly over the crests
of her velvet cheeks
then down the contour of her face
flushed as sunset
to lightly salt her quivering lips

and as I passed
numb and dazed
through the tunnel of the loading gate
toward the jet
that took me to hell
I had at that moment
locked the image
of that sorrowed face of love
deep in my heart

It had proved my salvation
my only grasp on sanity
in those horrific years
over there

my lips too had quivered on that day
with the sting of separation
and the chilling knowledge
I would soon taste the bitter blood of war
foul with the stench of death

having not yet departed
I had already longed to gaze again
into her brilliant blue eyes
and taste her sweetness

yet

as I return this day
trying to face reality
from 30,000 feet
I taste the salt of sadness

for I fear
a kiss from me
with my killer’s mouth
will forever defile the fragile innocence
of those luscious lips
soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach
that glistened
and quivered
when last we parted

• • •

 

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Eternal

•

tears on flushed pale cheeks

warm held hand grows cool and still

she has left this earth

my love is now eternal

how do I face tomorrow

• • •

 

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…here is a bonus “whimsical” poem written in response to the day 19 prompt at poetic aside…


 

Phineas & Phlo

•

phineas morton is not a happy guy
that’s not to say he’s sad
he just decided long ago
not to live life on the extremes
so he would describe himself as
well
as centered
yes
phineas morton is a centered guy

he lives in the abandoned hull
of a short
yellow
school bus
left there by his parents
when he was 12
as they went off to find
well
to find happiness

this situation may also account
for his less than enthusiastic embrace
of the whole concept of
well
of happiness

phineas dreams of
someday
doing something
something
well
something interesting
shunning the extreme nature
of
of great
he is not really interested
in doing something
great
interesting will do just fine

he has a girlfriend
well
sort of a girlfriend
more like a
well
like a girl acquaintance
that sounds less “on the edge”
which suits his centeredness
just fine

her name is flo
though she has come to spell it
phlo
as an expression
of her affinity for phineas
you know
phineas and phlo
the whole ph
sounds like f
thing
you know f
fuh f fuh

well
anyway
phineas wants everyone to know
that while he waits for his
interesting life to begin
he can be found
out by ole’ doc patterson’s pond
in his shell of a bus

you’re more than welcome to come by
just
if you do
don’t be too happy
if you know what I mean
doesn’t sit well with the lad

so if you come by
bring some jelly beans
red jelly beans
because
well
just because

and a tip from me
if you do drop in on phineas
don’t be clever
you know
don’t make any wisecracks about
well
no “short bus” remarks
ok

ok

• • •



• poems and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

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…check out the other heroes 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…

Deadline



 

Deadline

•

presented for your consideration
deadlines
and time

time is relative
a fleeting thing
non-substantive

so how does one keep time
to keep is to hold
or maintain
something in your possession

it would seem
given the insubstantial nature
of time
that one cannot

with time
being the core component
of a deadline
and time unable to be ‘kept’
the logical deduction
is that a deadline
is therefore unable to be ‘kept’

it would also seem
that it is not fully clear
just what a deadline is

is it a relative point
projected into the future
and given arbitrary importance

is it a connection
between telephones
that has gone quiet

is it a boundary
drawn around a prison
beyond which escapees are shot

is it filament with hook
presented to catch fish
that has lost its bait

when considering
this additional uncertainty
why all the fuss about deadlines

in the pursuit
of things relative
fleeting
ethereal
and uncertain

love is the more glorious

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

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…catch more pursuit of deadlines at Sunday Scribblings…

NaPoWriMo #11 – Play Ball!

This is my eleveth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku



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…this piece was written in keeping with the spirit of a prompt by Angie Werren over at read write poem who asked us to write about the choice we didn’t make…

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Spring Recall

•

it is this time every year
perhaps coaxed by the warming breezes of spring
that a flood of recall is unleashed

smell of leather oiled in neatsfoot
clatter of wooden bats in a canvass bag
rattle of metal spikes on concrete
snug feel of the ballglove
tuggin’ on the cap
rollin’ the bill just right

smoothness of the cowhide sphere
grip on raised seams
click and clack of the catcher’s gear
cheers, jeers and sometimes tears
right foot on the rubber
excitement of taking signs
leg coiled for delivery
the hey batter batter
pop of the ball in the pocket
anticipation of an onrushing grounder
launching the throw across the diamond
shielding my eyes in a high sky
relief of snagging one in the webbing

feel of polished hardwood
crack of the sweet spot
exhilaration of connecting solidly
breaking down to first
taking a good lead off
soft slide into the base
the thrill of swiping second
the joy of crossing home
my teammates in a dog pile
sweet sweet exhaustion
knowing I left it all on the field

your arm around my shoulder
the pride in your eyes
root beer at the soda fountain
with the team after the game
riding home on the tailgate
of our old Edsel wagon

it is every year
at this time
that I think of all of this
that I think of you

how you wanted me to try pro
how the scout felt I had the arm
it is the path I didn’t take
you never made me feel sorry

thank you for these memories
thank you for your love

• • •

 

____________________________________






 

Chalk Lines

•

chalk lines laid on dirt

crack of white ash on cowhide

son’s smile is a joy

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

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…for more poems about other roads left untraveled, go to readwritepoem…

NaPoWriMo #10 – Woodpeckers / Hiking

This is my tenth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku



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…this piece was written in the spirit of Pamela Sayers’ prompt “Celebrate!” at read write poem…

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Woodpeckers

•

the two red crests are busy
hammering away
peck peck peck
big chucks of the dead pulp
flying in all directions

the elusive couple has come
down into the yard
from the climbs
of the old-growth forest
that surrounds our home
to get their fill
of early-season insects

comfortable as two dancers
they circle each other
bobbing and weaving
on the old Douglas stump
peck peck peck

beautiful in black
bold scarlet topknots
vivid white to frame the faces
majestic in their size
and mystery

these life-mates
rule our woods
often heard
peck peck peck
seldom seen
save a passing glance
of red and wing

but here they are
resplendent in the Oregon sun
emboldened by mating season
and the spring bounty

they flit occasionally
in turn
to the nearby red cedar
centuries old
live and looming
but they return to the stump
peck peck peck
preferring the delicacies
in the decaying remains

the smaller starkly-striped Downy
with his crimson cap
and wings white on black
has joined them
in this supper hour


but he swings
and pecks quietly on the suet
dangling from the eaves
having been ushered indiscreetly
from the Pileated’s banquet


a gorgeous Northern Flicker
speckled and curious
observes at a distance
from the forest canopy
not partaking in this evening’s feast

my wife and I sit silent
and amazed
captivated by the glory of nature
being celebrated
just beyond our bedroom window


we join the celebration
grateful for the privilege
humbled by this spectacle
hopeful for our planet

• • •

 

____________________________________






 

Hiking

•

each crest a new thrill

each fresh turn an adventure

hiking the forest

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

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…for more NaPoWriMo 2010 day nine poems, go to readwritepoem…

NaPoWriMo #9 – Jazzzzz

This is my ninth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku



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…this piece was written in keeping with the spirit of a prompt by Robert Peake, over at read write poem…



____________________________________




 

Jazz in a Parallel Universe

•

we was scorchin’
torchin’
in the zone
lighting chops
flamin’ righteous

primo riffin’
smokin’ sacred
glorified ‘n sanctified

fused bruised and overused
the big axe jumped
pumped
and thunder thumped
lubed ‘n locked âN lugnut crazy

scene was pure
to the fringe
slammin’
jammin’
come to jesus

skins was raucous
reeds was rippin’ trippin- sanity slippin’
blood ‘n bone on broken tusk
brass ‘and n balls to the bell-tone edge

soul elation
elevation
riot smooooooth
‘n devastation

upright
‘n bottom tight
we brought down the house
this velvet night

• • •







 

Jazzin’

•

first notes soar skyward

stars shine in the clear night air

jazzin’ has begun

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

• artwork at top of post entitled “Hot Licks” – by: rob kistner © 1997

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…for more NaPoWriMo 2010 day nine poems, go to readwritepoem…

NaPoWriMo #7 – Free / Ready to Roll / Old School

This is my seventh post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku
• one onomatopoeia
• one noxious fume
____________________________________




 

Free

•

fueled by the freedom of the open road
we race our way into the sunset
leaning tightly into curves
wind whipping our hair
our knees tucked
heads down
we rocket

thriving on the thrill of the throttle
embracing the magnificence
living in the moment
not counting time
or keeping track
just being
free

• • •

____________________________________

 

 

Ready to Roll

•

engine oil changed

grips cleaned tire pressure checked

spring’s highway beckons

• • •




 

Old School

•

(onomatopoeia)

kick down — kick down — kick down

rest

kick down — kick down

rrrroarrr

rev rev rev rev

• • •

poem, haiku, and onomatopoeia verse by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

Here’s a little sumpin’ sumpin’ I wrote for Alan Summers’ day 7 RWP prompt: “humor in love”.

 

Phew

•

who knew lovemaking would end
with my lover breaking wind
oh god did that foul stench offend
we’ll not soon make sweet love again

here’s one thing that I’ll be hope’n
if we do the windows open
no refried beans next time we’re flirty
‘cause on a scale of ten that fart’s a thirty

•

(in tanka form)

our loving did end
when my sweet lover broke wind
a stench to offend

no beans next time we’re flirty
ten scale – that fart’s a thirty

• • •

poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

• photorendering of man holding nose from: Getty Images — modified by: rob kistner 2010

____________________________________

…for more NaPoWriMo 2010 day seven poems: readwritepoem…

NaPoWriMo #6 – The Cast / The Rise

Rhiannon had suggested in the day 6 NaPoWriMo prompt at Read Write Poem that we sort through a collection of our pictures as inspiration for this day’s poem. Although I veered a bit from her precise suggestion, the process of sorting brought me to the pictures I have of my fishing adventures, and that inspired this — so thanks Rhiannon!



This is my sixth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku
____________________________________




 

The Cast

•

cliff-climbing conifers
stir in the brisk dawn
as breezes swoop the gorge
rustle my jacket
nip my cheeks

across the casual rapids
near the stony shore
rainbows surface in slack water
hungrily gulping morning hatch

my most recent offering undulates past
in the glinting chatter of spring flow
unacknowledged

chuckling
I turn

elbow steady
I begin to rotate my lengthy bamboo
behind to two PM.
silently stripping the slender thread
from current’s surface
leaving a razor crease
disappearing quick as it comes

the lacquered rod bends forward as I lift
then slowly flexes back
the line arcs behind in flight
trailing silvery spray

backward pressure builds
as line nears full unfurling
but just before
a smooth return
slowly brings the shaft
again to ten AM

now
I feel the forward pull of the soaring mass
as overhead the line recoils
midair

the glass-green fiber
rolls out ahead
over azure ripples

the singing strand painting an “S”
in the cloudless sky

quick
smooth
and quiet
the line is re-wed to stream

the feathered morsel at the tip
offered yet again
coaxing a ready trout
to rise
and strike

• • •





________________________




 

 

The Rise

•

fly reel freshly oiled

new tippets cut and tied firm

spring trout on the rise

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

• photorendering at top of this post is entitled “The Cast” – by: rob kistner © 2010
____________________________________

…for more NaPoWriMo 2010 poems: readwritepoem…

NaPoWriMo #5 – Kathleen / Blossoms

This is my fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku
____________________________________




 

Kathleen

•

he has kept it locked for so long
none can pass
his grief makes certain none will try

this is a dark forbidden place
high-walled
cold and barren
unyielding
lifeless

brutal night has fallen
no sun can penetrate

the darkness soothes him
he retreats into its depths
hiding
shielded from any further pain

but see
a shadow falls across the threshold
someone approaches

a comely being
warm and alive
lays gentle siege
threatening to breach his hardened fortress

but this lovely creature
fair and fragile
can not possibly gain entrance
must not

he will resist
this is wrong
this is trespass
this is cruel betrayal of his lost beloved

he has no right to leave this place of sorrow
no right

but his stronghold is succumbing
falling to this delicate advance

he is vulnerable
terrified
but it is useless to resist

searching with a patient heart
she has found the key
grasped in her loving hand
fingers tenderly enfold it

gently
she slides it into the lock
turning with great care

he is defenseless
he feels his heart slowly open
the long forgotten stir of love
begins to warm his soul

• • •





________________________




 

 

Blossoms

•

sweet pink blossoms fall

red spring buds will take their place

soon will be cherries

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

• photorendering entitled “The Key” – by: rob kistner © 2010
base image by: Getty Images
• photorendering entitled “Blossoms” – by rob kistner © 2010
base image by: Harold Davis
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…for more personal NaPoWriMo 2010 poems: readwritepoem…

Brushstrokes of the Heart

 

 

Brushstrokes of the Heart

•

we were beautiful
as a painted egg

smooth couple
balanced relationship
bright and colorful
lovely to behold

at arm’s length

but we grew hollow
superficial
fragile
brittle

too easily crushed

and once so
forever broken

no over-lacquer
of sustained love
to add substance

no second coating
of genuine honesty
to insure strength

we lost
the tender brushstrokes
of the heart

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

…come see egg-zactly what’s breakin’ at Magpie Tales…

NaPoWriMo #3 – The Leap / New Life

This is my third post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku

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…facing one’s fear…

 

The Leap

•

she need not be frightened
she knows the moves
sees the steps
clearly in her mind

she knows the stride
the position of her body
just before elevation

she understands the speed
the run up
the lead foot
the plant angle
the knee bend
the thrust

she has done this
literally thousands of repetitions
no need for trepidation

she knows the energy of the moment
of the crowd
as they anticipate
as she anticipates
the lift off
the rise

the glorious weightlessness
the thrill of flying
the feel of returning to earth
to her toes
her feet
how to offset the momentum

to snap to a graceful stop
come to point
straight and strong
arms raised and extended

the applause
that exhilaration

she knows this all
to her bones

she can do this
in her sleep

she has this mastered
she is a master dancer

but

that flash of doubt
and again
she fails

there is now one leap
she fears she cannot master

the leap
back through time
to her youth
to her glory
her invincibility

still
she leaps

she will always
leap

• • •

________________________

 

 

New Life

•

wife in her mud shoes

clatter in the potting shed

soon will come new life

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…for more fearless NaPoWriMo 2010 poems: readwritepoem…