Category: Tanka

Love’s Summer Serenade / Seaside

These first written & published for NaPoWriMo 2010

 
Love’s Summer Serenade

sing to me my sweet sweet lover
songs as soft as silk and satin
sensual as a bare embrace
warm summer sun upon our face

promise me the world is ours
that this perfect moment’s endless
lift me up on rapture’s cloud
my racing heart is pounding loud

make melody set sail our souls
fill our hearts with passion’s fire
smother me in scorched sweet kisses
oh what a fiery bliss this is

come to me and take me timeless
sweep me off to ecstasy
enfold me in your deepest dreams
simmering under summer moonbeams

so hot we’re looking for some shade
aflame in love’s sensual serenade

*

 
Seaside

soft sand warms bare toes

senses stirred by surging surf

summer at seaside

love as fresh as ocean breeze

kisses hot as sizz’ling sun

*
rob kistner © 2010
revised © 2023

More poetry at: dVerse

 




Tanka Tragedy



UH OH!

 
I am a lion
I want to maul you to death

not me — I’m a lamb

but I’m just a reflection

so I’m sorry — you are …screwed!


rob kistner © 2021

 

Can you please sing, while you — RUN?!

 

Poetry at: Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

Day 4 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021

Time’s Window

“This is the 4th anniversary of my wife Kathleen and I moving to Seattle to be with our grandson Alex. I posted this new piece containing mindful reflections on leaving our home in Oregon, and our new Seattle home. The photos are of our Oregon yard in the Cascade Mountain foothills. That is my wife Kathy standing under, and peering up into our 2 giant banana palms. The poem is just below the photos.“

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Time’s Window
~


we now have a wonderful
new Seattle home
shared with family
ruled by my little guy
my precious 6-year-old grandson
and I know sweet happiness

but there are moments
with eyes closed
I can gaze back
through time’s window

I see my beloved Oregon home
of 25 amazing years
vividly alive this morning
here in my memories…

through my window this day
I see the scurry of creatures
warmed by the Oregon summer

I hear nature
in splendid voice

the chuff
of a tree’d red squirrel

the song
chirp
and trill of birds

chickadee
goldfinch
western bluebird
and others

fly
flutter
and flit

in a flash of orange
a striking northern flicker
momentarily eschewing insects
is peck peck pecking
cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
that spill from our feeder

a red-tailed hawk
calls
from atop a Sitka spruce
swaying
in the crisp blue sky

the muffled belling of a deer
wandering the safety of old-growth
whispers
through the foothills

the distant bark
of a neighbor’s dog
echoing the basin
up along our stream
reminds me
we have friends nearby

my wife’s
gentle laughter
validates the friendship

her tender smile
validates our love

the rustle of leaves
stirred by the breeze
wafting through the valley

smartly punctuated
by the staccato
of conifer cones
that fall
from time to time
wrested free by chickaree
and chipmunk
chattering high in Douglas fir
busy with their forage

wap wap wap

they bounce off our roof
striking the ground

closely followed
by the scamper
of their liberators
crunching their way
to the heart-meat of the cone
the delicacy
that elicits this furious industry

drifting in the window
intoxicating fragrances

cedar
pine
fir

lily
rose
lilac

grasses
loam
and more

a rich
earthy bouquet

caught in my reverie
I breathe in
deeply
to suddenly remember

…I’m not in my Oregon home
I am in my new Seattle home
and it’s filled to overflowing
with family
and love

for a moment
I do not open my eyes
I linger a bit longer
in my beautiful dream
of my Oregon

my heart will forever be there
but we will likely never go back
not until my ashes are spread
high in the Cascade Mountains
on Mt. Hood
across breathtaking Lost Lake

but here
now
on this day
filled with memories
and joy
a solitary tear
falls

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2019


 
This new write was a remarkably mind purifying write for me. Click to see how others are purifying their minds on dVerse:

Poetics- Purifying the Mind

 

  • Click to check out the haps at Toads

    • Burst

    …written for Day #13, NaPoMo 2011…


     

    Burst

    •

    sky pulls with spring rain
    sprouting seeds push seeking light
    sun stirs petal’s blush

    engorged buds burst to unfurl
    nature reaches tipping point

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4/13/11

    Emerge In Grace

    …this tanka was inspired by prompt #26 at Writer’s Island,
    and by prompt #139 at One Single Impression    .

     

    Emerge In Grace

    •

    go down in trial

    endure the tribulation

    emerge rapt in grace

    steeled by the tempering fire

    molten molded pure and strong

    • • •

    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

    Ripples

    Tankas inspired by this wonderful painting offered as prompt #21 at Writer’s Island,
    and by prompt #134 at One Single Impression.



    Reflections

    •

    memories of you
    ripples on a mirrored lake
    rise and drift gently
    into the golden sunlight
    carrying me on their crest

    • • •

    Joie de Vivre

    •

    clear blue summer sky
    deep azure crystalline lake
    cool breeze on my face
    fresh scent of water lilies
    ripples gently lap the boat

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • painting entitled “Fisherman” by: Vane Kosturanov

    True Work

    I offer this piece in response to prompt #18 at Writer’s Island.

    ______________

    AUTHOR’S NOTE: I had this incomplete 3-year-old draft of my poem “True Work” (loosely inspired by Gary Snyder’s “Real Work”). I had wanted, for some time, to edit it into a piece, with which I would be more satisfied. The above listed prompt inspired me to create a suite of poetry, threaded together by the phrase: true work. My focus for this suite being humanity, which was the crux of the “True Work” draft I already had. The digital rendering I created of the hand holding the world helped me finish my vision of this poetry suite.

    ______________

    “empty your love into the world”
    “the true work is never done”

     

    True Work

    ____
    I bend my back and squat
    then straighten at the waist
    hunkered ‘neath the weight
    I lift clean the load
    the warehouseman’s refrain
    always on my mind
    “back straight
    lift with the legs”

    the first test – no result
    I try a second
    then a third
    on and on
    day after day
    long hours in the lab
    the formula must be perfect
    only perfect will save lives

    drywall must be flush
    and plumb
    also square and seamless
    meticulously
    I set each sheet
    with the level and the bob
    then pause
    to wipe my sweating brow

    I curse the clay
    do battle with fatigue
    I coax my muse
    to commit to form
    the first draft of my vision
    to then modify
    and remold
    until the ultimate creation

    these are elements of the work I do
    or did
    or may yet do
    and I am you
    and you are me
    and we are all together
    in this endeavor of our daily life

    but this is not our true work

    to bend to lift someone in need
    to help carry their burden
    until they again stand steady

    to seek the components of peace
    to formulate the dialog
    that fosters understanding

    to measure well tolerance
    to stand squarely flush
    with truth and level justice

    to visualize universal love
    to create the enduring model
    for a free and vital world

    this — is our true work

    so little done
    so much to do

    * * *

     

    If Only
    ____

    stressed beyond limits

    earth’s fragile balance falters

    but this can be changed

    her future is in our hands

    if only we do true work

    * * *

     

    Endeavor
    ____

    abstain from false pride

    prayer does not a halo make

    that requires true work

    ____

    rob kistner © 2010

     

    * photorendering above entitled “In Our Hands”
    by: rob kistner © 2010

    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

    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


    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