Finish Line

This song by Sarah McLachlan, “In The Arms Of An Angel” always makes me break down. He is my son, Aaron Robert Kistner. Hearing this song takes me deep into memories of my sweet angel. My son Aaron died in his 18th year, just prior to entering college to study music. He was a very handsome, kind, and gentle young man – and a fabulous singer. I miss him so, everyday. I ache to hold him close just once more — to hear his beautiful voice. I wrote this poem very shortly after his tragic death in a horrible auto accident.

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 run the New York City Marathon.

A gentle, triumphant smile,
eyes beaming behind those ‘cool’ shades,
jacket sleeves rolled in casual hip-ness,
bag gripped firm and steady in your left hand,
medal dangling proudly from your strong neck.

The victor: gentle, cool, hip, carefree, proud, and strong,
– fiercely handsome!

How profound this captured moment proved to be.

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.

Fly my sweet angel – fly!

*
rob kistner © 1995

 

Evening Prayer

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Evening Prayer

~

sun sits low on the horizon
dusk slowly advances
the breath of night begins to stir
all the daydreams are gone to bed

I sit quiet
on my ole bench
soothed by the cool breeze
warmed by the memories
that huddle ’round me

from far into the past
they drift
forward through the years

they visit gently
one by one

memories of those
I’ve been well to know
those I’ve been blessed to love
those that have got beyond
a tender tear for every one

a sweetness fills the air
just a touch of soft regret

my heart is full
my spirit calm
I surrender
to fate’s embrace

would this evening never end
but soon
the lingering day
will bow its head
twilight too will fade

as the waxing night
blankets my repose
I fall still
and pray

pray
when soon carried away
it be in deep
peaceful sleep

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2012

Morning’s Pardon

  • Morning brings we fallen mortals forgiveness and hope…
  •  

    Morning’s Pardon

    ~

    fallen into night’s embrace
    held down by dark shadows
    I writhe in the arms of nightmare

    would that I could rise
    into the light of dawn’s nod
    but I’m flesh, weak, consumed by flesh

    purity laid raw entangled in my sin
    skin to skin with my obsession
    restrained to roil in my transgression

    but soon the light of morne
    will fold itself upon me pardoned
    oh pray I not be too far drawn asunder

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Images – a ten year vigil

    …lest we ever forget

     

     

     

    Images


    •

    images

    unreal
    unfathomable images

    the graceful glide
    engulfed by the spire
    in a roar of golden orange

    horribly beautiful

    perversely mesmerizing

    obscene
    devastating images

    torrents of humanity
    raining down

    desperation their only escape

    masses of humanity
    racing
    to outrun the unbelievable

    praying
    to be delivered from the inconceivable

    traumatic images

    shrines of free commerce
    consumed
    by the unbearable weight
    of their fragile significance
    plummeting to earth
    in a cloud of self-destruction

    heartbreaking images

    screaming
    dazed
    terrified souls
    consumed
    by the unbearable weight of the moment

    staggering onward
    to outdistance the surging roll
    of all-engulfing
    pulverized aftermath

    courageous images

    battered
    determined
    tireless heroes

    those who were called
    who served unselfishly

    some
    who gave the ultimate service

    haunting images

    color
    gender
    ethnicity
    wiped away
    from the ashen-grey faces
    of the traumatized throngs

    now just masks of calamity

    all made equal
    by horror and grief

    one nation
    under siege
    inconsolable
    with tragedy and sorrow
    for all

    unforgettable images
    burned into our hearts

    • • •

    rob kistner © 9/11/09

     

    Sea Song

    • this poem linked at Writer’s Island and One Single Impression

     

    Sea Song

    •

    sad she comes
    everyday
    to these empty shores
    on wings of memory
    to serenade this sea

    a song of longing
    bowed on strings
    of a broken heart
    mournful for the one
    lost to these silent fathoms

    her tears
    steady as the mists
    relentless swept away
    by these cold
    indifferent waves

    only they
    know where her lover lies
    so everyday she comes
    taunted by these tides
    to seek their mystery

    and every night
    darkness falls
    chill upon this deep

    her forlorn refrain
    shatters in the moonlight
    the sea holding cruel tight
    to its precious secret

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    _________________________

    TWO OTHER RECENT POEMS:


    “And So”


    “The Sync”

    Vespers Prayer

    Vespers Prayer

    •

    sun sits low on the horizon
    dusk slowly advances
    the chill of night begins to settle
    all the dreams have gone to bed

    I sit quiet
    close by the fire
    soothed by its crackling glow
    warmed by the memories
    that huddle ‘round me

    from far into the past
    they drift forward
    through the years
    they visit gentle
    one by one
    memories of those
    I’ve been blessed to love
    a tender tear for every one

    there is a sweetness fills the air
    just a touch of soft regret
    my heart is full
    my spirit calm
    a peaceful surrender
    to fate’s embrace

    would this evening never end
    but soon
    the flames will falter
    as the lingering embers die
    and as the dark
    blankets my chamber

    I pray to be carried
    away in sleep

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    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

    No First Ink

    Offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression,
    and in response to prompt #73 on Carry On Tuesday,
    also in response to prompt #189 at Three Word Wednesday.




    No First Ink

    •

    I lean upon my folded fist
    cool against my temple
    elbow solid on my cluttered desk

    eyes droop and flicker
    aflame with spoiled sleep

    face slacked
    head now dropped
    held in my hands
    heavy with confusion

    skull upon the finger bones
    in weighted indecision
    procrastination presses down

    where art thou muse
    I seek weightless inspiration
    to be lifted up by you

    instead
    the hum of cooling bytes
    drones relentless in my ears
    impossible to ignore
    no matter how I try

    thoughts like digits on a dollar slot
    spin unsettled in my mind
    they neither click nor lock in place
    they tumble in a jumble
    to roll and blur just out of focus
    lost in mental fog

    sunken in my writer’s chair
    I remain immobile
    paralyzed by perplexity
    imprisoned by the chaos
    awhirl in my mind

    the freedom of decision
    impossible to manage

    I fear nothing will be writ
    no first ink will be shed this day

    • • •

    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

    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

    Old Man’s Prayer

    …this piece is in response to the 16th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island,
    and visual prompt Mag 27 at Magpie Tales (see image at bottom),
    also offered for prompt 129 at One Single Impression,
    and for prompt 228 at Sunday Scribblings….




    Old Man’s Prayer

    •

    successful as a younger man
    the grind became my home
    and I a conduit of worry
    could I keep the crazy pace

    years spun wild as a top
    around faster ever faster
    life layering its patina
    etched deeply in my face

    suddenly no longer young
    now looking back from 63
    I’ve known triumph I’ve known tragedy
    they’ve marked me both the same

    I’ve borrowed bought and sold
    strayed through several shades of grey
    but have I leveraged my soul
    just to play the fleeting game

    I pray I will not be an old man
    gazing lonely out my window
    trying to remember
    exactly how long it has rained

    not sitting silent by the fire
    lost in contemplation
    wondering if all I lost
    was worth what it was I gained

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photo of top from the movie Inception

    _________________



    Mag 27

    Words of the Wizard

    …I wrote this in response to prompt #6 at Writer’s Island, the prompt is “Unforgettable”



    “The Wizard of Westwood”
    John Wooden 1910-2010

    Words of the Wizard

    •

    John Wooden has,
    on this 4th day of June,
    in the year 2010
    left this mortal realm
    after 99 years
    of untiring service
    impeccable wisdom
    and great love

    a man of balance
    and spiritual depth
    such as John
    comes so seldom
    it must be seriously considered
    that this world
    has lost
    one of its special angels

    and that the warmth
    and the stability
    of humankind
    may in fact
    suffer consequence

    I shed not a tear
    for John
    he needs no pity
    it is for the rest of us
    that I heartily cry

    the following
    are the immortal words
    of a great and profoundly humble man

    gather close
    and hear

    •

    a mentor is someone
    who can give correction
    without causing resentment

    ability is a poor man’s wealth

    adversity is the state
    in which man
    most easily becomes
    acquainted with himself
    being especially free of admirers then

    be more concerned
    with your character
    than your reputation
    because your character
    is what you really are
    while your reputation
    is merely what others
    think you are

    be prepared
    and be honest

    it is amazing
    how much can be accomplished
    if no one cares
    who gets the credit

    although there is no progress
    without change
    not all change is progress

    consider the rights of others
    before your own feelings
    and the feelings of others
    before your own rights

    do not let what you cannot do
    interfere with what you can do

    don’t measure yourself
    by what you have accomplished
    but by what you should have accomplished
    with your ability

    failure is not fatal
    but failure to change
    might be

    ability may get you to the top
    but it takes character
    to keep you there

    listen
    if you want to be heard

    never make excuses
    your friends don’t need them
    and your foes won’t believe them

    failing to plan
    is planning to fail

    if you don’t have time
    to do it right
    when will you have time
    to do it over

    there is nothing stronger
    than gentleness

    the true test
    of a man’s character
    is what he does
    when no one is watching

    if you’re not making mistakes
    then you’re not doing anything
    I’m positive that a doer
    makes mistakes

    it isn’t what you do
    but how you do it

    it’s not so important
    who starts the game
    but who finishes it

    don’t let yesterday
    take up too much of today
    make every day
    your masterpiece

    it’s the little details
    that are vital
    little things
    make big things happen

    it’s what you learn
    after you know it all
    that counts

    players with fight
    never lose a game
    they just run out of time

    material possessions
    winning scores
    and great reputations
    are meaningless
    in the eyes of the lord
    because he knows
    what we really are
    and that is all that matters

    never mistake activity
    for achievement

    success comes from knowing
    that you did your best
    to become the best
    that you are capable
    of becoming

    success is never final
    failure is never fatal
    It’s courage that counts

    success
    is peace of mind
    which is a direct result
    of self-satisfaction
    in knowing
    you did your best
    to become the best
    you are capable
    of becoming

    talent is god given
    be humble
    fame is man-given
    be grateful
    conceit is self-given
    be careful

    the main ingredient
    of stardom
    is the rest of the team

    the worst thing
    about new books
    is that they keep us
    from reading the old ones

    there are many things
    that are essential
    to arriving
    at true peace of mind
    and one of the most important
    is faith
    which cannot be acquired
    without prayer

    things turn out best
    for the people
    who make the best
    of the way things turn out

    what you are
    as a person
    is far more important
    that what you are
    as a basketball player

    young people need models
    not critics

    you can’t let praise
    or criticism
    get to you
    It’s a weakness
    to get caught up
    in either one

    you can’t live
    a perfect day
    without doing something
    for someone
    who will never
    be able
    to repay you

    • • •

    words by: John Wooden 1910 – 2010
    opening by: rob kistner © 2010

    • To learn more about John, please click here

    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


    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 #22 – The Gaia Suite

    This is my Twenty-second post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • an Earth Day message
    • two tankas
    • one prayer


    ____________________________________

    • • Happy Earth Day • •

    ____________________________________


    • Go and visit the Earth Day Action Center 2010, and please — be aware!




    An Earth Day message:

    These are some thoughts I would like to share on this Earth Day 2010. It is from my heart, and expresses my great concern for this planet earth, and all of us who are traveling aboard her. If you are not in the mood for heavier fare, you can skip down to the poetry below this message.

    For the rest of you, I see our global society becoming more and more desensitized to killing, suffering, the dignity of women, our failing stewardship of this planet, and the value of life in general.

    Popular art reflects culture; it has in all of history. The ongoing proliferation of movies, video games, music, comic books, our dress and personal trappings, TV, even the TV commercials; this all cast a disturbing reflection of the direction a core section of the people of the earth are moving. And the less than subtle movement to cast doubt, even ridicule, on those who believe that the care of this world needs our attention NOW! One might argue that any of these individually is perhaps moot, but taken as whole, it begs to be examined — I feel.

    Our children and adults alike, spend hours playing graphic video games in which the sole purpose is bloodletting — maiming and murdering, in the most violent and gruesome ways. There are many wonderful video games, but the breadth and depth of the “snuff” games is cause to pay attention.

    The gladiator-like fighting cultures that have arisen in recent years is something to look at. These are no longer the staged violence of pro wrestling, in itself a bit unsettling – these are real blood for the sake of blood. In Rome, the rise of gladiators was a sign of the accelerating decline of the Roman Empire. We may not be there yet, but what does this current, rampant thirst for blood have to tell us?

    Another litmus that has always reflected the culture, is the impact of man’s religious constructs. Too often, the role they play is the manipulation and repression of his freedoms. I have nothing against the numerous religious constructs man has created. For those so drawn, they are a place for the safety and certainty they require.

    However, when radical religious minorities begin to attempt to dictate and rule the masses, imposing their constructed values and fundamentalism, especially when they claim it is the will of god – we’ve got to take serious notice.

    These are the signs that point to the stripping of freedom of responsible individual thought and personal rights – and essentially, eradicating the essence of personal responsibility. Today, with the rise of the repressive extreme fundamentalism that we see around the globe, it is akin to the eve of the dark ages. I don’t think we will descend to those extreme depths, but what does it mean when we have so many who would lead us there – even if, in some cases, it is unwittingly?

    I so want to champion optimism — but I cannot and will not turn a blind eye to the signs I see. None of us had better do so. We all need to become proactive for balance. That is the key. Balance the extremes of this world; ecological, social, moral, financial, and the like.

    To be proactive I have started this creative blog, Image & Verse, to begin, in my small way, to penetrate the root sensitivity of our society. I firmly believe the embrace and expression of creativity is the key to elevating our human species.

    I write poetry, speaking in sparse focused voice at times, entertaining lofty and beautiful thoughts at others, also embracing our human sensitivity and sensuality, and holding a mirror to reflect what is beautiful, or to reflect what I see as troubling — because I believe poetry has the power to penetrate the human psyche to greater depths than any written form.

    Poetry actually has the ability to alter people on a level that strict written word often cannot. If I write an essay, I make you think; maybe even alter your opinion. I write a poem, I have the chance to make you feel something, in your core – that can alter your hardwired being. I believe this.

    I think we urgently need to probe to these depths of the human psyche now, to send out these altering sparks, because I think there is trouble brewing, on some fronts, that could have dire consequence for the long-range future – of the planet and humankind.

    I also write poetry to celebrate, to lift up my own spirit, to have hope, to see possibility – to protect my personal sanity.

    So let us dance, sing, embrace the beauty and the miracle of life and this magnificent world in which we live, and seek joy and truth – but let us not be a Nero. Our Rome is beginning to smolder.

    –and so it goes–
    …Rob

    ____________________________________

    …this art piece immediately below is entitled “Gaia Yields” by: rob kistner © 2007…


    The Gaia Suite

    Gaia Weeps

    •

    man seeks dominion

    frail balance has been disturbed

    gaia is weeping

    man clings to his arrogance

    denial does not absolve



    Gaia Yields

    •

    seeds push seeking sun

    sky is pulling with spring rain

    gaia yields new life

    if man is responsible

    the balance can be restored



    Prayer For Balance

    •

    mother gaia you embrace us
    carry us safely
    as we hurtle thousands of miles
    every hour of every day
    through infinite space

    you provide for us our every need
    sustain our bodies with your abundance
    nurture our spirits with your beauty
    your endless wonders

    your need is simple

    that we live in balance with your rhythms
    with our fellow travelers on this amazing journey

    that we know gratitude
    humble stewards of your countless gifts

    for millennium upon millennium
    we lived in harmony
    attentive
    reverent
    but we’ve grown arrogant

    foolishly
    we believe we have dominion over you
    over all in your realm

    in pursuit of intellect we lost our sense
    our equilibrium
    lost our way

    even as we watch you suffer
    we cling to our ego
    to our destructive delusion of supremacy

    we do not see
    do not understand

    please forgive us
    be patient
    do not forsake us
    we can learn
    we must learn

    love for you is still strong
    among your wayward children

    this voice of love cries out
    please listen
    it resonates more loudly with the passing of time

    precious mother gaia
    grant us time to again find our way
    our humility
    our center

    the balance

    • • •

    • tankas and prayer by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________
    …thanks to Catherine for her prompt, and check out the other offerings at readwritepoem