Tag: free spirit

Dissonance

NaPoMo poem #24-A

This is poem twenty-four-A of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This, like poem #24, is also about a poet struggling with inspiration, trying to block out the night noises and cacophony that surrounds him on a hot sticky night.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Dissonance

•

relentless whir
in cycled pulse
drones overhead

coarse whisper from above
promises relief
in vain

blades disturb page edges
at rest before me

in irregular rustle they taunt

impatient
untouched

no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
do they bear

no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
with which to be dispatched

no coin of phrase to spend

dissonance
spills through the open window
the buzz, chirr, and leggy rasp
muffled keens
distant yelps

the edgy din of crawling
prowling 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 relief

nothing clever
or profound
in the air this night

hot, sticky, thick

uninspired

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Fashion Faux Pas

NaPoMo poem #23

This is the twenty third of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This is a bit of whimsy inspired by the read write poem NaMoWriMo prompt #23, “a different hat”.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Fashion Faux Pas

(‘hoot’ couture)

•

I see you smirking at my hat
it’s aluminum foil – imagine that
it helps with my cell phone reception
and fascinates my cat

keeps UV rays off my bald cranium
collects morning dew for my geraniums
makes me invisible to radar
and impervious to uranium

when wearing it I’m seen from space
the reflection helps conceal my face
when raining it will never rust
it’s aerodynamic if I run a race

it made my paper’s style page
and it will soon be all the rage
the good news — one size fits all
and it’s great to line your birdcage

so don’t make fun of my chapeau
it’s great for people on the go
and quite handy if you’re grilling out
or wrapping take home from the bistro

a tip in closing I will bestow
don’t use tin, it’s crass and low
folks will stare and shake their head
tin is such a fashion ‘no’

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

For Granted

NaPoMo poem #22

This is twenty second of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This poem is an homage to Gaia, our mother earth, in celebration of Earth Day 2009. Embedded within this free verse poem are a trio of haiku, each focused at our earth.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Earth Day 2009

For Granted

•

you prepare for sleep
each night

consciously
or unconsciously

confident of gravity

that it will keep you
anchored
in your bed

snug in your bed

that you won’t wake
to find yourself
having floated off

now entangled
in the sweeping branches
of the willow
in the backyard

that wonderful weeping willow
always bending
and swaying

like some sinewy
sap-laden
great elephant

trundling
great elephant

trundling
and swaying

on the lookout
for water
in the arid
african bush

such majestic
mysterious
beautifully dangerous bush

in africa
the amazing dark continent

with zebras
and giraffes
and lions

and of course
elephants

in africa
in the earth’s
southern hemisphere

and all of this
kept firmly aground
by earth’s gravity

pretty astounding
when you consider

earth hurtles through space
eighty times the speed of sound
racing toward hope

our frail earth needs hope
desperately it needs help
it is in trouble

our earth’s crying out
it’s balance has been disturbed
we humans don’t hear

all we ever think about
is bed

money and bed

and gravity

and then
often only in passing

when we’re not
simply
taking it for granted

the earth
and all these incredible things
for granted

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Spellbound

NaPoMo poem #20

This is the twentieth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

This poem was inspired by the image below entitled “The Bride Wore Red”, by Pareeerica…

Spellbound

•

scarlet lady in crimson silk
a beauty to mesmerize
sculpted by a master’s hand
so seductive as to scandalize

a stare of comely crystal blue
floats above a ruby pout
spellbound by her magic eyes
she holds your soul with no way out

her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
like a supple paintbrush flowing
her smile will pierce and hypnotize
then wrap around you knowing

you are now her helpless captive
quite hopelessly addicted
in the velvet grip of her mystery
is she an angle or is she wicked

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

I will Not Forget

NaPoMo poem #19

This is the nineteenth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This poem is an edited rewrite of an older poem I’d written, but not completed to my satisfaction. Today’s prompt brought such deep feelings flooding into my heart, I was compelled to revisit the draft of this work and bring it to a fitting completion. I am very pleased with how it has turned out.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

I Will Not Forget

(rappelé toujours)

•

there are days I still can feel
the breeze of youth gently stir my soul

days remembered of grace and lightness
when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams

those days of you

when all we touched was fresh and new
and the world was full of wonder

when we were certain we’d live forever
our strength made each day a great adventure

those carefree days

the days we witnessed one for the other
as we made vows to our chosen life mates
raised our children
grew our careers
our families close through these days of joy

but not these days

I’ve grown unyielding
rigidly braced
against the winds of time and fate

my soul is rooted in life’s demands
I search its blessings
curse its burdens

these brittle days

I am bent by the yoke of worry
heavy with the weight of loss

I am haunted by the ghost of memory
the lonely days when I think of you

these empty days

how can this void be filled
when one so vital has departed

this world was denied much wit and wisdom
kindness and love lost
when you passed

how can this void be filled
when one so rich in these is gone

one who understood the need for giving
in a careless world darkened by greed

a tender heart
truly unselfish
whose warm embrace included all

how can this void be filled
when a brilliant light has been snuffed out

I will not forget

I will remember you
and all those days
that’s how I will fill this void

with the seeds of friendship
you planted deep inside my heart
now filled with grief

may they grow to make me gentler
and me — the world a better place

good-bye my friend

ever will I tend these seeds
and think of you

I will not forget

• • •

 

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Stir of Love

IMG_8652

 

Stir Of Love

____

he has kept it locked for so long
the horror of that night
holds the seal tight

the memory riveted
securely barring entry
none can pass

his bitter resolve
makes certain none will try

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

a wasteland of the lost
inhabited by the dead

the gate grown over
by a tangle of grief and anger

any memory
of a once vital presence
of a living breath
of warmth
of joy
forever gone

brutal night has fallen long ago
that no sun can penetrate

the blackness soothes him
he retreats into its depths
embraces its lightless void
hiding
sulking

shielded from any possibility
of further pain or remorse
he is unfeeling
safely lifeless

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
he must

this is wrong
this is trespass

this is cruel betrayal
of his lost beloved

he has no right
to leave this place of sorrow
to step into the light

no right

but it grows inevitable
all seems lost
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 it
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


IMG_8653

____

 

rob kistner © 2009

 

15 Days To Go

NaPoMo poem #16

This is the sixteenth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

15 Days To Go

•

I just sit here and stare
my creative cupboard’s bare
I find I just can’t write
but I can’t be up all night
not when there’s still 15 days to go

no matter how hard I try
I just come up dry
I am most bereft
I’ve nothing poetic left
and there’s still 15 days to go

I’m not at all amused
that my muse has refused
to offer inspiration
and to add to my frustration
there’s still 15 days to go

I think perhaps I’ll draw
and hope that this will thaw
my rock-hard writers freeze
I beseech you sweet muse – please
there’s still 15 days to go

I’ve struggled and I’ve stammered
I think I’ll just get hammered
if I really tie one on
the pain will all be gone
screw it, it’s only 15 days – ya know

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Two Views

NaPoMo poem #15

This is the fifteenth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

I interpreted today’s read write poem NaPoMo prompt a bit differently from Christine’s example. This is still a response to “instead of”, but I wrote two poems, each from the perspective of an ancient old-growth tree. One looks at our world from a ‘glass half empty’ perspective, the other from ‘a glass half full’ point of view.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Two Views

•

(pessimism)

I watch

as generations recede
as empires crumble
as wisdom ebbs

I’ve observed
millenniums of human folly
as they stumble
to a cold isolated existence

disconnected from each other
from everything
serving the machine

perfecting violence
as they race to ruination

aliens in eden

I see the natural world
reshaped
scarred
diminished

but still I stand
thrusting skyward
closer to heaven
than any living thing

a perpetual survivor
rooted in perpetuity

the constant sentinel

a witness to tragedy

•

(optimism)

I watch

as generations move forward
as civilization painstakingly progresses
as knowledge slowly unfolds

I’ve observed
millenniums of human endeavor
as they awaken
to self-sufficiency

less dependent on conformity
on hive mentality
mastering the machine

enduring strife
as they strive for the light

evolving beings

I see the natural world
reshaped
tempered
resilient

and still I stand
reaching skyward
closer to heaven
than any living thing

a perpetual presence
rooted in perpetuity

the constant sentinel

a witness to triumph

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Otherworldy

NaPoMo poem #15-A

This is fifteen-A of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This is a bit of sci-fi poetry, inspired by a flash fiction fantasy story I wrote a while ago.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Otherworldly

•

I’ve watched
golden Fire Clouds
hanging in pale green skies
over the azure seas of Toluras

heard the haunting call
of the coral-winged Lellurt
soaring Droon’s violet skies
over teal Darpin Bay

seen the copper leaves
of Parmus fronds
flashing from indigo mountains
in the crystal mists of Gemin

been seduced by saffron Remmors
a’swim with siren song
translucent in the amber waters
of emerald Topiarus

I have beheld exquisite beauty
of otherworldly delight
but nothing to please my eyes and ears
as you, here, tonight

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

The Return

NaPoMo poem #14

This is the fourteenth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

The Return

•

the ruby’d chains
sparkled and stretched away
pulling me along

as 2 cords
of diamond bright white
clustered up from behind
to nudge me onward

the precious ribbons
stranded for miles
disappearing over the horizons

the freeway had been dense
this night
as I made my way
from the busy airport
back to our beloved home
our sanctuary

the one we’d found together
deciding immediately – this was it
on that crisp spring saturday
when we were beginning
to feel we never would

the home we’d come to cherish

but finally
this turn
down our country lane

I could make it in my sleep

so familiar

I anticipate every bend
and rise
every dip

they are welcome as a friend

like the sound of my tires
as they trundle ‘cross
the narrow wooden bridge
that fords
our crystal trout stream
as it falls
brisk from mountain snow-pack

and coming round

I see the corridor
of faithful old-growth Doug’s
stepping back for me
to nestle the foothills

inviting my return
guarding my safe passage

they sway

as if to celebrate
that I am back

now
it’s left up our gravel drive

the pebble and crushed rock
crunch and clatter in stony rustle
as I traverse our hill

then swing onto our concrete carport
pause
and key the engine off

all is silent
save the tick and popping
as the engine cools

this is my favorite moment

just before I open the door
to step up
and approach the house
to bring myself to you

this moment of anticipation
knowing you are waiting

bathed and fragrant
warm and soft

dressed in something that will whisper
welcome home my love
I’ve missed you

then I take you in my arms
fall into your loving eyes
pull your willing body close

to wrap ‘round you
and drink you in
intoxicated

these moments
melt into sweet love making
that continues until exhaustion

we both love
when I return
happy ending, stop here…… from a business trip ……stop here, happy ending

• • •

tearful ending, read on…… but tonight ……read on, tearful ending
I do not key the engine off

I do not reach for the handle

do not open the door

I simply
sit

you are no longer waiting
not in quite sometime

not since you lost your battle brave

not since I held you
that final time
your body still warm and soft

not since then

not since then

now
my business trips are longer

my returns
fewer

and farther between

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Orchid

NaPoMo poem #13-A

This is the thirteen-A of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This poem is inspired by the most beautiful, most sensual, and my most favorite of all the flowers of our planet — the orchid.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Orchid

•

young orchid
fresh-bloomed

engorged

bursting with life’s urgency
vibrant
and seductive

dewy lips
of supple petal
lay tender open

a velvet pistil
of gentle blush
is enwrapped
in a throat of fiery hue

so exhilarating
enticing
as it lilts
and sways

a fragrance
that intoxicates
wafts
from sensuous folds

the lush bouquet
tantalizes

eyes embrace
the vision rare
as senses stir
pleasured
in this heady moment

captive
by such vital beauty
consumed
one savors slowly

exquisitely delicious
this tender bud
full bloomed

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Chilling Reality

NaPoMo poem #13

This is the thirteenth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

It’s a bit of poetic whimsy inspired by a Wordle posted on the read write poem site.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Chilling Reality

•

the green ice machine
in the room
by the hotel pool

you know the one
that produces
the briny tasting cubes
with the acute odor of cod

well somehow
it single-handedly
achieved singularity
around 11:00 PM
last night

and
in a jubilant frenzy
ran down the stairs
freely spewing its contents

then it burst
through the main lobby
and slipped
out the front door

but before it departed
it proceeded to impugn
the candy machine
claiming it was a changeling

insisting that in fact
it was a cigarette machine
only masquerading
as sweet
and innocent

but I’m not certain
that ice machine
can be trusted

granted
it’s cool

but I always thought
something was fishy
about that apparatus
and always
took what it said
with a grain of salt

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Morning in the Neighborhood

NaPoMo poem #12

This is the twelfth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Morning in the Neighborhood

•

he lifts himself quietly
so quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect

he makes his way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed in a heap
un-moving on the floor
save a twitch of the head

which head now harbors demons
where nocturne angels
of sweet release
laid down lush upon her
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver
in the soured vein

this wreckage is his mother

he stops but for a glance
verifying life
then moves on
head down

he angles to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash his face

a face lit sallow
by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely

eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
stare into the mirror
broken as his heart

in the dank foodless morning
of this ruined single room
he gathers up his books
steps lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets

heavy with a childhood
of strangled dreams
he ducks and dodges
in and out of shadows

his prayer
to once again avoid the evil
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled brickened canyons

seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake

evil

which if diligence should fail
will consume his youthful soul

deliberately he continues
until at last he finds his way
into the building
into the classroom
into his desk

into the only hope
to which this innocent
dare cling

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Val

NaPoMo poem #10

This is the tenth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

Suggested by read write poem as a poem for day 10 of National Poetry Month; this type is known as a ‘found poem’. Passages here are borrowed from the pages of Robert A. Heinlein’s science fiction masterpiece, “Stranger in a Strange Land”. While still holding fast to the spirit of Heinlein’s novel, I’ve slightly rearranged, and mildly embellished the text to create this piece entitled “Val”.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Val

•

valentine michael smith
was a most intelligent creature
a son
of deep space pioneers

he lived an alien
on the far frontier
his ancestry was human

raised on mars
by planet natives
he thought and felt
quite martian
he’d never laid eyes
on man

brought to earth
by scientists
who knew not
how to grok* smith
who knew not
how not to
and quickly grokked
the madhouse planet

he understood earth
and its suffering
so thoroughly
it became his own

it nearly drove him crazy

heartfelt
val reached out
to spread enlightenment

for this
he was despised

feared and hated
quite ungrokked
smith was sadly slain

his death was brutal
he died as he lived
a stranger
in a strange land

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

*Grok – to understand so thoroughly, the observer becomes part of the observed

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Rapt

NaPoMo poem #9

This is the ninth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

Rapt

____

my footfalls
drum the root chambers
of the old growth
each step
cushioned by centuries of needle-drop
in this ancient forest

enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I amble

my walking stick is smooth
clutched comfortably
in my right hand

tensions dissipate
soothed
by the audible stir of the wind
in the treetops

wafting down the western Cascade slopes
it invigorates

the steady rhythm of my footsteps
hypnotize

rounding a bend in the trail
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop

mesmerized

filtered by the towering woodland canopy
light drifts down dreamlike
settles golden
into the natural cathedral before me

a presence is tangible

a breeze enfolds me
filled with the intoxicating scent
of living earth

an addictive bouquet
of cascade red cedar
douglas fir
ponderosa pine
moss
bark
loam
and ionized mountain air

my spirit rises
my being grows weightless
any sense of self floats away
lifted into oneness
wholeness
bliss

I’m startled from my reverie

a young doe
bounds onto the trail ahead
stands proud
pauses in the golden light

she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time

darting my eyes
here then there
in a vain attempt to follow her
I catch glimpse of silver-blue
shimmering
where massive tree trunks part

a wind-blow lake appears

this crisp mountain mirror
is the reason for my trek
into this mighty wilderness

climbing a boulder at trail’s edge
I sit
pull my legs under me
and lean forward
elbows on knees

I face lake-ward
basking in the energy

I grow very still
listen
gaze
I become this moment
rapt

in touch with my soul
with the eternal
transcendent
in paradise

____

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem