Tag: Free Verse

NaPoWriMo #1 – This Journey / Birds

This is my first post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku

____________________________________

…written in the spirit of the wonderful journey that is NaPoWriMo 2010…

 

This Journey

•

this journey has been one of wonder
joy, sadness, awe, and tears

it’s carried me ‘cross boundaries
borders
mass of lands
‘cross time and space

it’s shown me magic
marvels
the mystery of love

the best
the least
the good
the evil

it’s brought me pleasures
fame
and fortune
to claim them back
with no remorse

I’ve known satisfaction
adulation
a woman’s love
a child’s passing

it’s been true and faithful
genuine
just to turn away
and break my heart

it’s been fantasy
fact
and fiction
clear as light
then contradiction

I’ve been ignored
I’ve been betrayed
honored as a man of standing
then left behind
to cry alone

I’ve traveled light
I’ve traveled fast
I’ve stumbled
burdened
weighed with grief

I’ve lead and followed
lost my way
regained direction
just to go astray

I’ve walked hand in hand
with fear and death
stared down depression
to be consumed

then arose
to again go forth
without a clue my destination
with no regard for the fated outcome
and to my plight
no consideration

long ago I abandoned worry
having learned it’s of no use

I’ve realized despite our difference
at the core we’re all the same
this realm we enter all alone
from here we’ll leave alone again

but all of this is of no matter
foolish so to dwell upon
of no concern
of no regard
most certainly not worth the measure

because in reflection
one sees too late
it is this journey
that is the treasure

• • •

________________________

 

Birds

•

no wind at feeders

suet and the black seeds swing

evidence of birds

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

• five shuffle titles used to create the poem “This Journey”

Digable Planets – Time And Space
Marianne Faithfull – The Mystery Of Love
Bad Company – Fame and Fortune
Metallica – No Remorse
Finger Eleven – Lost My Way

NOTE: shuffle courtesy of my son’s iPod — me, I’m a jazz man…

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…get shuffled further into NaPoMo 2010 at readwritepoem…

Caisson

 

 

Caisson

•

see you
see you in this carrion half-light
unworthy scavengers

you cluster to ravage
to defile the entity
drawn in this caisson

but you cannot

the living presence it bore
is greater than you

your gluttonness lust
might pick the meat clean
pick the bones dry

but this being has lived well beyond the muscle
beyond the sinew tendon and bone
these were its limits

now it is set free

so help yourself brother crow
sister raven
birds of black
help yourself

this essence has gone beyond
far beyond
to become infinite
pure thought
unbound spirit

what you pick apart is the afterimage
of a mortal now eternal

so take your fill crow
have your way raven
blackbird — do your best
engorge the glorious

then be gone
scatter
and far off

this caisson has delivered its miracle

unus est privatus

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_____________________


…this piece inspired by readwritepoem…

• photorendering entitled: “gathering” by: alice popkorn

Avatar

 

 

Avatar

•

you do not see
me

no shadow do I cast
that you perceive

no movement
to catch your eye

no color
no shape
no texture that is truly mine

you see
the avatar of your fantasy
the puppet of your desires
the specter of your lust

to you
I
am invisible

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

___________________________

• you can find more avatars at One Single Impression

…image found here…

 

Alchemy

“Went digging through some of my older poetry to find this piece I wrote 9 years ago, March 2010. I remember being inspired to write it watching Hermione’s love potion scene in ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Price.’ I had just purchased the DVD at the time. My grandson was watching the DVD last night, which put me in mind of this poem. Wanted to share it here for dVerse OLN #252. It contains very minimal revision and a slight upgrade in graphic embellishment”

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Alchemy

~

you cannot change
a heart of iron
into a heart of gold

no precious warmth
will manifest
from something hard and cold

a love that’s locked
and set in cast
can never be set free

there is no hope
nor magic spell
not even alchemy

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you cannot stop
the hands of time
from spinning ever on

when the sand
is through the hourglass
those days are ever gone

you cannot bring summer back
when the leaves
are off the tree

there is no hope
nor magic spell
not even alchemy

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~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010
revision © 2019

 

  • Click below to check out some fine poetry at dVerse:

    OpenLinkNight #252

    • Flower

     

     

    Flower

    •

    young flower fresh-bloomed
    engorged with succulence
    bursting with life’s urgency
    vibrantly seductive

    dewy lips of supple petal
    lay open in offered sweet delight
    velvet pistil of gentle blush
    enwrapped in throat of golden hue

    this vision of tender ecstasy
    entices with a lilting sway
    a fragrance to intoxicate
    wafting from the luscious folds

    breathing in the rich bouquet
    all senses stirred and tantalized
    my eyes embrace this visage rare
    pleasured in the heady moment

    captive by such vital beauty
    consumed, one savors slowly
    exquisitely delicious
    this tender bud, full bloomed

    • • •

     

    Flower

    (minimalist version)

    •

    young flower
    fresh-bloomed
    engorged
    bursting
    seductive

    supple petals lay open
    velvet pistil
    soft in golden throat

    lilting fragrant folds
    stir the senses

    consumed
    one savors slowly

    exquisite
    this tender bud
    full bloomed

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    …come see what else is blooming at Magpie Tales…

    Sing

     

     

    Sing

    •

    a tear can cloud the brightest day
    song will brush aside the clouds
    is not sadness just a passing state
    but what a melody can chase away

    a tune played true with voice in tow
    little sorrows flee from such display
    thing is, so few will dare seek joy
    and thus succumb to feeling low

    yet when life is lived in harmony
    what hurt you have will drift and fade
    joy in chorus will lift the heart
    it swells the soul in reverie

    is it not foolish to keep bliss entombed
    to see not but the dark and gloom
    sing — and laughter will light the room

    a song is but a little thing
    and yet what joy it is to sing

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photorendering entitled “Sing For Joy” – by: rob kistner © 2010
    _______________________________

    …catch the other tunes at Carry On Tuesday…

    Demands

    Two contemplations on the concept of demands:

     

    Demands

    •

    the garment of demands
    in which we’re dressed when we are young
    is often awkward and ill-fitting

    but the self-tailored cloak of expectation
    we put on when we are grown
    is far more difficult to wear

    • • •

     

    Legend

    •

    permit me to share the legend
    of the man who rocked the world
    luminescent — larger than life
    his banner of fame unfurled

    he confidently took each stage
    flashed his skills with pride and power
    his celebrity rocketed skyward
    enormous talent, in his finest hour

    a humble tempering childhood
    helped him hone his mythic dream
    a bright young man with wicked ‘chops’
    he could make his guitars scream

    his fame continued to grow
    so too the demands upon his time
    more nights, more travel, more concerts
    but for his fans, he didn’t mind

    his glory spread round the globe
    renown and fortune grew unbound
    like a rampant roaring wildfire
    nothing it seemed would take him down

    but terror struck while touring Europe
    unleashing panic, fear & strife
    bombs tore through the concert hall
    to save his fans — he risk his life

    the first blast ripped the back wall
    mike in hand, he stood firm and fast
    directing the people to safety
    they all escaped — now he was last

    it was horror in high definition
    TV broadcast the heartbreaking sight
    a question hung heavy over the chaos
    did their hero meet death tonight

    the sad truth was the top news story
    the brave mega-star had died
    all the world was seen to mourn
    at candle vigils the people cried

    so permit me to share this legend
    of this remarkably brave young man
    who, possessed of wealth and fame
    truly never forgot the fan

    • • •

    poems and collage by: rob kistner © 2010

    …this post was inspired by sunday scribblings…

    Magenta Lace

     

     

    Magenta Lace

    •

    furtive strumpet nonpareil
    fumbles from the motor-coach
    cup of bacchus fondled lush
    held close to velvet bodice

    supple breast, soft loin and limbs
    costumed for seduction
    magenta lace and turquoise silk
    kindles lust’s combustion

    sweet undulation in a mirror mist
    of moonlight on the midnight fog
    beckons through the dewy fern
    enticing — come enjoy

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    _____________________


    …this piece inspired by a wordle at readwritepoem, and they all fit in quite wonderfully…

    photo rendering entitled: “Sweet Strumpet”

    The Collector

     

    The Collector

    •

    this day as I journey
    I come upon a stranger
    standing by the road looking sad
    heavy box held in his arms
    clutched close to his breast

    he stares into my eyes expressionless
    his gaze stops me still
    fixes me in place

    his face is tired and drawn
    etched in withered worry

    when at last I move
    I draw close enough to see
    this sullen man is me

    everyone is born with some special talent
    he sighs
    I am a collector
    of tears shed in moonlight
    the pain of love’s betrayal
    the grief of empty lives

    he concludes
    and offers out his hands
    that open on the box

    he beckons me retrieve
    this container he protects

    filled with apprehension
    I reach and grasp the case
    lift it cautiously from his grip
    lay it gently at my feet

    it opens as I do
    slowly
    to reveal its strange contents

    three lone broken hearts


    mute with wonder I behold
    confused yet riveted
    I ponder haunted as I do
    then inquire of the meaning

    these are yours
    I am told

    created by your deeds
    cruelly left behind
    as coldly you moved on

    each belonged to one who trusted you
    a trust you did betray
    without a second thought
    love you tossed aside
    abandoned carelessly

    now the burden of this box
    is mine beyond the grave

    eyes lowered in fatigue he exhales

    it was on a road like this
    that it was passed to me
    I have carried it too long
    I am weary from the load

    looking into my eyes he points

    now you must bend and lift
    and clutch it to your breast
    to struggle with its weight
    until you pass it on

    searching the distance he goes on

    someday a stranger will approach
    over that horizon
    he will stop and stare
    transfixed by your presence

    you will charge him with this chest
    then he will lift and carry
    as I do
    in this cycle of forever

    for he too
    will be you

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photo collage entitled “Broken Broken Broken” – by: rob kistner © 2010
    _______________________________

    …see other special talents at Carry On Tuesday…

    The Book(s)

    Two books that changed everything for me — “On The Road” by Jack Kerouac,

    and “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test” by Tom Wolfe.

    I was a disenchanted-college-student-rock-musician and had just been awakened by the ’67 Summer of Love, when I came upon both of these books in the Spring of 1968 in a bookstore in Clifton, Ohio, just down from the Ludlow Garage, where my band, Stone Fox, had just opened for the Allman Brothers and Santana.

    These books fueled my frustration with “the system”, sparked my wanderlust, and eventually found me and my three best friends, astride internal combustion iron horses, young men heading west — and thus began the rest of my life.

    What these books represented was not a map for the rest of my life, I’m well beyond that angst. Rather, they’re important to me because they were the catalyst that first ignited my genuine independent thought, and empowered me to act on that thinking.

    Following here is a poem I wrote which reflects, quite well, where my head was during that period. You can also click on the highlighted passage young men heading west in the previous paragraph to read a poem I wrote about the motorcycle journey.

     

    Bohemian Nightfall

    •

    when night fell on bohemia
    the streets were set ablaze
    in black light
    in strobe light

    it was tie-dyed psychedelia
    when night fell on bohemia

    jack and neal were on the road
    ridin’ with the fire-whores
    of angst and indignation
    like combustin’ carnal fireballs
    when night fell on bohemia

    allen was howlin’
    pal’n with corso
    and long’n for peter

    hunter, groin deep
    in the brain-drug flesh festival
    …hunter was fearful
    and loathing it all
    when night fell on bohemia

    bill, stark naked
    was lunchin’ with the devil
    jelly-rollin’ in a hell fire
    when night fell on bohemia

    gary headed for cold mountain
    to watch it all from sourdough
    electric bob went subterranean

    me – stung by disenchantment
    the swollen outlaw bastard
    coming fast
    hard as holy hell
    cresting and crashing in
    just as night fell on Bohemia

    I was on my way
    howling mad
    and mind-expanded
    in a rolling demon’s fire,
    lighting the night
    dancing with beelzebub
    raving and blazing
    hormone’d-hungry
    lusting and longing to gorge
    every forbidden morsel and crumb –

    the smorgasborgadelic mindfeast

    when night fell on bohemia
    ken and tim
    gathered up the faithful
    on the magic bus
    and stole off with the future

    like pranksters

    ever further

    • • •
    rob kistner © 2008

    …this post was inspired by sunday scribblings…

    A’tremble

     

     

    A’tremble

    •

    lilting golden
    ‘long an autumn lane
    carried gentle
    on the winds

    the rustle of aspens
    lush and hush

    like the murmur
    of whispered passion
    from a lover’s lips
    a’tremble with desire

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photo by: fred hanselmann ©
    _______________________________

    …to hear more murmurs go to One Single Impression…

    The Sculptor

    Silver Falls, Oregon, USA
    The Canyon Trail system leads hikers along the banks of the north and south forks of Silver Creek, to 10 majestic waterfalls, including the grand South Falls (177 feet) pictured below.

     


    •


    • magnified section of photo to show scale

     

    The Sculptor

    •

    gazing upon this magnificent canyon
    cut by time and current in the great rock of the earth
    I marvel at the power
    at the beauty
    at the determination of the relentless river
    sculpting this majestic work
    tumbling timelessly in crystal clarity
    over boulder and falls
    ever onward

    • • •

    photo & poem by: rob kistner © 2010

    …here is another artist’s view of these falls…

    …for more eye-candy check out this site: Scenic Sunday…

    Graspless

     

     

    Graspless

    •

    moonlight keeps dark at bay
    pressing in
    as night winds stir
    mocking final breath of life
    lost to the lightless realm
    beyond the chill encircling me

    no emotion here
    save grief

    failed digits of a graspless hand
    on a broken stair
    where ankle bent
    and held oranges spilled

    no voice came to the futile cry

    those lips will not know again
    sweet fruit

    nor love…

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    …come see what else is in hand at Magpie Tales…

    Unyeilding

     

     

    Unyeilding

    •

    my muse is hard to capture
    though I do try each day
    just goes so fast

    I turn around
    it’s past me in a blur
    leaving little inspiration

    each day becomes each night
    here I sit in the wee hours
    while the sane sleep
    steeped in contradiction

    thoughts vague
    filled with doubt
    words tossed about the unyielding page

    I start then stop
    I write then not
    caught mercilessly unclear
    in terminal hesitation
    in quiet rage

    fickle muse – please…
    a spark to light this dark
    that grips me like a cage

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photo collage entitled “Seeking the Muse” – by: rob kistner © 2007
    _______________________________

    …see who is going fast at Carry On Tuesday…

    …discover who is hesitating at One Single Impression…

    So Many Gifts

    NaPoMo poem #29

    This is the twenty ninth and the penultimate 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 a tongue-in-cheek, but well intentioned look at life’s many gifts, inspired by prompt #29 at read write poem.

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

     

    So Many Gifts

    •

    we were granted
    many gifts
    when we arrived
    here in this life

    perhaps the most precious
    is the gift of family

    to endure
    the gift of family
    and any other calamity
    we were bestowed
    the gift of courage
    the gift of patience
    is a part of this

    now when we require
    more reinforcement
    we have the useful
    gift of friends

    should all these gifts
    prove just too much
    there is the gift
    of nature’s beauty

    if we overdose
    on all things tranquil
    the fallback gift
    is our creative spark

    to prevent this gift
    from being wasted
    we have literature
    music and art

    and to preserve
    dark karmic balance
    we’ve been blessed
    with the critique clique

    finally we come
    to this the greatest
    of all the gifts
    that we possess
    and that gift being
    the gift of love

    though we enjoy
    all of these gifts
    life still can be
    quite tough at times

    but don’t despair
    no
    don’t lose hope

    some secret gifts
    have we been granted
    to give us strength
    and keep us going

    the first of these
    our sense of wonder
    and hand in hand
    our sense of awe

    and should all else falter
    there is the failsafe
    the secret weapon
    our sense of humor

    but please take heed
    keep careful watch
    if you lose this latter
    my friend
    you’re screwed

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem