Category: rhyme

Boldy Go

 

Boldly Go

•

the great wheel of time
turns ever slow and steadily
its ponderous mass unstoppable
it presses onward mightily

climbs the mortal mountain
bearing the weight of history
of ages and civilizations
borne then razed by its immensity

our lifetimes ride this wheel
how far is but a mystery
locked in fate ’round we go
rolling bold toward hidden destiny

frail temporal beings
of a most amazing bravery
we dream of a tomorrow
for which there is no guarantee

adrift toward a future
of veiled and vague contingency
still — we dare to love
despite this vast uncertainty

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

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

Skye Fyre

…written for Day #12, NaPoMo 2011…

 

Skye Fyre

~

the grand sunset gun
hunter readies his grip
as the great golden orb
returns weary from his trip

quicksilver moon
embarks on her night’s course
hunter fixes sharp eyes
steady on the source

gaia reaches gently
into vast quiet space
diamonds of stars
gaia sparkles in place

hunter locks the horizon
solid in his sight
his important grand task
still remains on this night

to set the late sky ablaze
before he goes to sleep
in patterns most bold
in colors quite deep

he aims his sunset gun
and blasts overhead
a riot of corals
ambers oranges and red

with a grand brilliant flash
the heavens are afire
in rich vivid hues
burning hot with desire

this dusk color festival
has fully begun
so hunter retires
his job is well done
but he first locks away
his grand sunset gun

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 4/12/11

Ship of Dreams

…I have always loved the fantasy art of Dean Morrissey and James C. Christensen, and this week’s prompt at Writer’s Island put me in mind of their highly imaginative and captivating work, which in turn inspired the poem below, with its “tongue-in-cheek” ending…

 

Ship of Dreams

•

fantastic is this spell I’m under
magic of a splendorous kind
a world of cornucopic wonder
treasure troves of dreams to plunder
in this kingdom of my mind

here I live a life enchanted
here no fear of any threat
sorrow is by joy supplanted
no limit to desires granted
what I want is what I get

fantasy’s elaboration
a god of pleasure I ascend
soar in sweet hallucination
in ships of my imagination
oh, would this dream but never end

Epilogue

well now, oh dear, that was a bit much
somewhat carried away it seems
euphoria finds me out of touch
with reality, good sense, and such
perhaps I’ll temper my daydreams

throttle back my vision quest
bring fascinations down to size
moderation will serve me best
but dreams are so hard to repress
no limits when you fantasize

• • •

rob kistner © 3/26/11

• written for Writer’s Island

• art piece at top by Dean Morrissey

________________________

…below is a sample of the fantasy art of James C. Christensen…

Inseparable

Inseparable

•

if far not near
if there not here
one is not
without the other

so is up to down
and on to off
in to out
as hard to soft

it’s good or bad
happy sad
young or old
if hot not cold

it’s stop to go
either yes or no
as is likewise
fast to slow

dark and light
as in day and night
the quintessential
he and she

it is the one
defines the other
inseparable
as you and me

• • •

rob kistner © 2011


__________

…written for Writer’s Island

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

Champion

Offered in response to prompt #138 at One Single Impression.




Champion

•

search not in the bright lights
that illuminate the field of glory
nor midst the din of exaltation
if you seek a hero’s story

look instead outside the glare
in the quiet place beyond
where no accolades are strewn
and no ivy laurels donned

where daily life is hard
and the living less than grand
where the strength to persevere
depends on the extended hand

where the poor struggle without
the weak endeavor day to day
it’s here by selfless sweat of brow
the brave endure to find a way

willing to give all they’ve got
to daily do what must be done
to share when even they have not
to face their fear not turn and run

to reach and help the one’s in need
to fight the fight that must be fought
more than the words — to do the deed
to stand and smile not shrink distraught

it’s among these who seldom win
yet rise each day and strive again
it’s here your search should begin
it’s here you’ll find your champion

• • •


Champion

(tanka)

•

kind words quell salt tears

strong hand steadies unsure step

warm smile calms heart’s fear

no praise sought or expected

quiet humble champion

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Baby Cakes

This poem is offered in response to prompt #22 at We Write Poems.

Baby Cakes

•

crave the taste
of my baby cakes
seven minutes
is all it takes

gotta whip ‘em up
nice and creamy
mouthwaterin’
moist and steamy

oh do not rush
you better not
gotta get that
little oven hot

spread ‘em thick
but not too quick
steady stirrin’
will do the trick

ease ’em in
slide ’em out
hot buttered lovin’
fresh from the oven

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Over The Edge

This piece is offered in response to visual prompt Mag 33 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post,
also prompt 22 at Writer’s Island,
and prompt #135 at One Single Impression.

Over The Edge

•

From down there, down there,
it’s coming from down there.
From where — down there?
Yes Sis, I swear!

That horrible smell
that’s filling the air,
the one that’s most certainly
impossible to bear,
is coming from that women
with the massive blue hair
sitting alone on the patio chair,
on the deck of the house,
that’s below us — right there!

What a putrid aroma,
you’d think that she’d care.
There are simply some things
that one never should share,
like the stink that is rising
from that patio chair,
on the deck of the house
that’s below us down there.

And the hideous color
of that mountain of hair —
I can’t help it, can’t help it,
I can’t help but stare.

It’s a tangled and horrible monument to
a disgusting and eye-blinding
shade of bright blue —
and it’s causing a feeling of nausea too!

I must look away my heads starting to whirl,
and I feel that my toes are beginning to curl,
I fear over the edge here I’m going to hurl —
and I don’t want to do that in front of a girl.

Maybe I’m wrong
but I would assume,
if one’s going to bathe
in a noxious perfume,
they’d at least have the manners
to exhibit some pride,
and not foul the ozone,
instead — stay inside.

Not to be the forecaster
of gloom and of doom,
but keep the eco-disaster
contained to one room.

And if you’re chromatically challenged my friend,
consider the others that you might offend.
A monumentally grotesque rat’s nest of blue,
is not something I care to look at on you!

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


Mag 33

You & Me

…I offer this piece in response to prompt #69 at Carry On Tuesday,
and prompt #18 at We Write Poems,
also the September 6th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
and the September 8th prompt at Three Word Wednesday…

You &Me

(a poetic quadratych)

•

The Secret

what I said was
don’t touch
go away
leave me be

while inside
I cried out
draw near
stay with me

you are light
you are pure
you are joy
you are free

I am not
I am dark
I am beast
can’t you see

without you
there is much
you don’t know
about me

The Revelation

I lived at the light’s edge
that pooled in the night
on the bleak back streets
of the sad brokenhearted

I hid in the anguish
of the loveless who cowered
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten

I fed on the grief
of the mourners who wailed
for their horrific loss
in the ruins of death

this was my heartscape
black as mid-winter night
a lightless horizon
no glimmer of hope

trusting was toxic
no foothold for love
relations were carnage
scattered lifeless and cold

The Change

’til a beautiful being
eyes brilliant and true
approached from afar
bearing tinder of love

the graceful arrangement
was deftly ignited
and patiently tended
the fire gently stoked

afraid to come forward
I held outside the glow
but your kindness drew me
we stood by the blaze

with passion it roared
its light pierced my blackness
its heat thawed my soul
my cold heart was warmed

The Miracle

you wrapped yourself ‘round me
gazed into my eyes
your kiss soft and serene
was the essence of healing

with you in my life
I am darkness removed
soaring and weightless
radiant and rising

vital and caring
my spirit’s renewed
illuminated wholly
by a new dawn of dreams

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

• photo above is of the GOASTT, digitally enhanced by: rob kistner 2010

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

Machine Mind

This post is offered in response to prompt #14 at We Write Poems,
the August 9th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
the August 11th prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
and prompt #65 at Carry On Tuesday.




“…scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could,
they didn’t stop to think if they should…”
Dr. Ian Malcolm


Machine Mind

•

you wink awake at morning’s light
beckoning me to focused task
prompting me of promise

you collaborate
in my keeping touch
in work dispatched
in thoughts transcribed
in matters pure creative

you are my portal into virtual space
to probe mysteries
the vast unknown

the tool I wield
to unearth facts
dig the dirt
to search for truth

tightly spun
within the web
you tend my life
make all cogs turn

my instrument of whim
device of my distraction
are you my submissive
or master of my will

when you’ve surpassed my vision
will you serve me still

have I the power to shut you down
turn my back
walk away

to truly let you keep

in the deep subconscious
does your machine mind
really sleep

• • •

TechReGret

(a lighthearted tanka)

•

my laptop’s frozen

and my cell phone’s out of range

it’s at these times when

I think how life used to be

hand-written letters have soul

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_________________________

• photorendered collage entitled: “Machine Mind” – by: rob kistner © 2010

IN CLOSING: We live a in a world immersed, if not drowning, in technology. The idealistic and naive early vision was to create technology to serve us, make life easier, less complicated – but the joke is on us. We now serve the technology, and life is more complicated — traveling at a pace we struggle to keep up with. We’ve leveraged our peace of mind in the misguided pursuit of leisure. Is there a remedy? If we do not open a global dialog focused at finding ‘balance’, the situation will, I believe, resolve itself – and the world will not like, and may not survive, the ultimate solution.

As James Martin, one of our great modern thinkers and author of the “The Meaning of the 21st Century” points out in his most optimistic and uplifting book, man stands on the threshold of either the greatest era in human history, or the end of life as we know it – the outcome rests in our hands.

I wrote an essay back in 2007 which deals with humankind’s strange relationship with the technology we’ve created. You can click here if you would like to read it. …rob

Blood Moon

This piece is offered in response to prompt Mag 25 at Magpie Tales,
prompt #13 at We Write Poems,
and the August 2nd prompt at Big Tent Poetry.




Blood Moon

•

icy round
the wolf’n eye
soft and round
the riding breast
roundness
in the grande dame’s fear
a circle round
the blood moon’s crest

there are lies
within that circled moon
that surround
this cruel charade
they gather
and collect the tears
‘til midnight’s debt
is fully paid

‘til innocence
is found to want
and purity
so deep defiled
that cold and soulless
lupen eyes
will cleave the sweet
in red and wild

and all that once
was tender
will on this night
turn beastly raw
and guilted
hearts be locked away
to deny at dawn’s light
the truth they saw

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

What is / Continuum Redux

…I wrote this pair of poems inspired by the ‘We Write Poetry’ prompt #12…



What Is

•

yesterday is money spent
a corner turned
the choice that’s made
the tear that’s shed
the sentence spoken
the breath exhaled
the fuel consumed
it’s burned to ash

today is influence
momentum moving
the raindrop falling
hands on the wheel
the river flowing
the voice that’s singing
it’s face to face
it’s real time

tomorrow is the land of dreams
it’s the great unknown
the wheel of fate
it’s the far horizon
the dawn approaching
the planted seed
has no guarantee
yet it’s full of promise

• • •

Continuum Redux

•

yesterday was once today
today likewise was once tomorrow
tomorrow will be yesterday
but first it must become today

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


Elton The Elf

…I wrote this in response to the spirit of the July 26th prompt at Big Tent Poetry…


Elton The Elf

•

an angel-eyed velvet-clad curious elf
was sitting alone on a leaf by himself
quite lost and he didn’t see anyone else
he was scared and he hid and he tried to be stealth

“I wish I was home like a good little elf
‘cause I left my big glasses on my bedroom shelf
and this is no a place for a song-writing elf
these damp woods are not very good for my health”

his mother warned “Elton, you’re a wee little elf,
don’t go wandering off in the woods by yourself
take Bernie along, and your cell phone as well,
dear son please consider your fame and your wealth!”

but wee little Elton was a quite stubborn elf
tired of playing piano in his room by himself
bored with being a world famous rock ‘n roll elf
with gold records – Don’t Go Breaking My Heart was his 12th

you know it really is hard being a curious elf
curiosity is why he’d snuck off by himself
now he’s lost and can’t find his way home without help
sometimes its dangerous being sneaky and stealth

could this be the end for sweet Elton the elf

• • •

rob kistner © 2010