“You needn’t be crazy to be my friend, I can train you.”
— Robin Williams
Raise the carafe with care
pour forth freely
to drink deeply
this wine of friendship
ripened well with time
aged to a vintage true
the seasons have been kind
to this nectar rare
let its heady fragrance
and its bright taste
linger long and lush
lighten your burden
warm your heart
sweeten your dreams
and lift your spirit
to a place of peace and beauty
…may serenity be always yours… salut!
N.B. The “wine of friendship” herein is meant only to be friendship, wine is a metaphor.
Autumn here in the Pacific Northwestern United States is the season of emeralds and gold. The emeralds emanate from the many types of conifers that grow tall and plentiful here in this beautiful region, staying brilliant shades of green year-round. But the gold, that is the magic, and it’s a fleeting wonder that happens only in the Fall season. The source of this prestidigital marvel of nature is a geographically limited pine tree known as the Larch.
Larches are like a pot of gold here in the Fall hiking season. Their flaming yellow needles turn a Cascade Mountain landscape into something ethereal and otherworldly. The few short weeks, during mid-Autumn when the larches’ needles turn golden, make them all the more precious to spot. We call it the season of “Larch Madness.”
As splendrous as gold
cascade mountain larches make
autumn spellbinding
There are two Larches native to this region: the taller Western Larch, and the shorter, higher altitude Subalpine Larch. My personal favorite is the Western Larch, with its triangular shape and narrow crown. They grow up to 170 feet tall here in the Pacific Northwest, on north-facing mountain slopes, at 2,000 to 5,500 feet elevation.
Their needles grow in small clumps, turning a brilliant gold in Autumn, falling off in the winter. They then grow new, yellow-green needles in spring, that again turn a breathtaking golden-amber in the Fall. In addition to their deciduous needles, Larches have conspicuous cones, with smaller, sharper needles, that stick out like a porcupine’s quills between the cones’ layers.
If you don’t happen to live in the realm where Larches grow, a trip to experience the glory of these marvels in their full Autumn color, is well worth the effort.
Atumn alchemy
turn the larch pine wonderland
a splendid pure gold
INSCRIPTION:To Mark — Let the poetic sound of moons and stars invade your night thoughts, to give you sweet dreams always, for in your dreams lies the happiness you truly want — hope you enjoy the book, Michelle
Sparked by Michelle’s inscription, Mark reveals his true heart, and replies to Michelle with a poem, vulnerably baring his soul, sharing his sensual dreams of her.
“Dream Lovers” — by: Oleg Zhivetin
I dream I take you under the stars in May
in a Spring night’s breeze in the marram’s sway
on the silvered beach of a white-capped bay
near the mouth of a moonlit waterway
I dream I take you in a tree-filled park
on a matt of fallen aspen bark
to the Summer song of a meadow lark
on a sunny day until it grows dark
I dream I take you by the garden wall
in the dappled shade of a willow tall
on the scattered down of its leafy sprawl
on a crisp, and heady day in Fall
I dream I take you by the oaken mill
‘neath an autumn tree on a grassy hill
I will take you in the early chill
when our Winter comes — I will take you still
Michelle my love I dream of only you
under the moon — under the stars — all year through
here I share these dreams — that they come true
sweeping us away in passion’s sweet taboo
Author’s note: The inspiration for this poem came when I discovered a giant redwood tree, nearly 300 feet tall, that had fallen in the forest near Eureka, California. It was 1994 and I had been hiking with my 21-year-old daughter Jennifer, my 17-year-old son Aaron, and my 16-year-old son Justin. I was so moved upon seeing the giant down that I wrote the first draft of ideas that evening.
That was a magic time with my kids. Aaron, jumping and waving in his bright red hiking jacket, was the flailing fleck of color in the poem. Less than a year later Aaron was tragically killed. “Fallen” now has deep meaning for me on several levels.
NOTE: I have written an adendum, this day, Wednesday, November 16th, 2022.
Not personal photos. Used to show scale of naturally fallen redwoods.
My god
big as a house
great redwood
broken in repose
tangled root like tentacled mouth
ripped raw from breast of mother earth
massive girth
even prone
you still stand tall
and look there
look
way down there
my son
shoulder high to me
scaled
then strode your mammoth length
now at rest on this forest floor
he’s but a flailing fleck of color now
so small
so far away
yet still astride your hulking mass
mighty redwood
giant in a land of giants
soaring through the great canopy
of this majestic forest
thrusting skyward in your day,
and yet you’ve fallen
shallow rooted I observe
but deep enough to proudly stand
this thousand years
you did not fall unnoticed
in your thunderous final bow
so sad
your end
though all around you
new life
sprouting even from your fallen form
Not a personal photo. Used to show scale.
in this lush calm green
of nature’s vast cathedral
the eternal pulse of life goes on
not unaware of your misfortune
but certainly undaunted
yes
you have fallen
spire becomes spawn
and life goes on
(addendum)
but not for those of you
clearcut maliciously
victims of perpetrated
corporate fallacy
slain by human greed
taken solely for profit
masqueraded as need
such ignorant arrogance
brutality of no defense
foolish humans
spoiling the environment
robbing our atmosphere
of your valuable cleansing
of the greenhouse gases
we’re carelessly dispensing
we puke it daily into our skies
as the environment suffocates
and continually dies
that we can manage your regrowth
lumbering guilty lies
we stifle the oxygen
you so effectively provide
as we rip you clean
from every mountain side
until it’s too damned late
and humankind has died
once piercing the clouds
in towering mighty stands
you’re now the sadly fallen
taken by human hands
it is for you
I weep most bitterly
and for us
the fools unwittingly
blind to your miracles
quite utterly
as slowly
we kill ourselves
Not personal photos. Used to show devastation of human clearcutting.
For today’s dVerse OLN, I have posted a live, Spoken Word Performance, I did in 1999, of my original poem, “Memphis Red”, written in 1987. In 2001 I created a brief multi-media A/V movie to accompany my live reading. I invite you to relax, then click the white arrow in the red box below, to watch and listen to “Memphis Red”. Please enjoy! 🙂
Here, in the street of the sky, night walks scattering poems. These poems are inspired dreams of truth, but the fabric of these dreams can be pierced by spires of human fear and insecurity. The clarity of these inspired dreams are sometimes clouded by the dire deeds and distorted dialogue of disingenuous demagogs, who deem only to dominate and destroy the dreams of those who dare think differently.
But still night presents the poems, the dreams, with unclenched open hands of truth, hoping the winds of change catch them this night, lifting them fully promised.
These are poems produced by a clear, open mind, meant to inspire all who hear, to be more. So listen, and think differently, as the hours rise up putting off stars — and it is dawn. Awake now, as into the street of the sky light walks scattering poems anew.
From the spark of cognizance
at the dawn of awareness
through the eons of fire and conflict
forward past the dark times
advancing through the ages of change
traversing the renaissance
moving in the era of enlightenment
into these centuries of new growth
they have kept it
locked in their hearts
burning in their souls
the keepers of the keys
protecting the sacred secret
and now
on the threshold of actualization
realizations unfold
its safeguard is the catalyst
driving time and space
ensuring the ultimate balance
the locks must never be loosed
it must never be told
never unveiled
eternal must be the search
Oh my son, I miss you everyday Aaron. You died in your 18th year, just prior to entering college to study music. You were a very handsome, kind, gentle, and caring young man – great football player, marathon runner, fabulous singer, and beloved youth pastor. You made me laugh so often. So bright — a humor… witty, warm, and wonderful. I miss you so. I ache to hold you just once more — to hear your beautiful voice, to laugh at one of your spontaneous jokes. I wrote this poem to remember you, beautiful boy.
In loving memory of my son, Aaron Robert Kistner: 11/4/76 – 7/3/95
This is my favorite picture of you son
the one I treasure most
since your passing
a simple snapshot
taken at the airport
upon your return
from having successfully run
the New York City Marathon
a gentle
triumphant smile
eyes beaming
behind those ‘cool’ shades Ray-Ban RB3025 aviators
you called this your top gun look
jacket sleeves always rolled
so casually hip
bag gripped
firm and steady
in your left hand
your marathon medal
dangling proudly
from your strong neck
we celebrate you
the victor
humorous
gentle
kind
cool
hip
proud
carefree
and so strong
!fiercely handsome!
scorpio
you were born this month
four days in
how profound
this captured moment
taken just before the finish line
of your 18 years
it said it all
your race is run
your bag is packed
your reward’s in hand
run run racer across the sky
…and now too Aaron
you can fly
so son… Fly my sweet angel – fly!
My poetic expression, in image and verse, of the traumatic “night terrors”, I’ve experienced all my life, along with over four million other adults. It manifests itself for me as imageless nightmares, that fill me with such deep dread that I’m often awakened moaning loudly, sometimes screaming! It is a type of nocturnal torment from which I awaken disoriented, and unwilling to return to sleep. I am 75, and the idea of falling asleep is still extremely unsettling. Often awake ‘til thoroughly exhausted, I require prescription sleep meds nightly. Cause unknown, symptoms in adults can include a sudden awakening from sleep fully or partially, thrashing, screaming, intense fear and terror of an unknown reason, rapid heartbeat, rapid breathing, increased blood pressure, dilated pupils and wide eyes, sweating, increased muscle rigidity, inability to return to sleep.
