King of Sunrise

 

King of Sunrise

•

on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
held hostage by tire and curb
as if abandoned by the waters of earth

it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of mother sea

this day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

me and the first edition
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly serenaded by the 5:00 AM news

I read
occasionally glimpse the screen
grow troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious

in this moment
the tv drones
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare distracted

the announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I’ve fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this world

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Slithered


The Snake Charmer, Henri Rousseau, 1907

 

Slithered

•

ever hissing ever hissing
the smooth slithered snake
stealthily winds its slender self
to slowly settle in the shadows

to set its searching sights
on its unsuspecting prey
an ever patient sentry
coiled to seize its precious prize

with surety of purpose
this silent sleek assassin
will strike swift and certain
never missing never missing

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

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

 

Bogged

 

Bogged

•

that’s the thing about ruts
the longer we remain bogged
the harder it is to escape

•

stopping is no option

to lose the way
is to keep going
keep moving forward

lest one be rutted in uncertainty
rigid with the rigor of fear
bogged down in despair
paralyzed

stalled in hopelessness
the giving in
the giving up

caught in anguish
the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams

arthritic loss of faith
debilitates the soul

cripples the manifest light
that shines forth
at the leap into dark unknown
into the sacred mystery

frozen is the doubting man
withered in a worried cage
terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked

thus
he bleeds out the color of life
to become cold and grey

a petrified husk
of brittle remorse

mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death

stopping is no option

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Spared


 
Spared

~

how I do desire
the damp dreary days
of february

when my forlorned
fallen face
is commonplace

when no one intrudes
to question
what’s the matter

because all around
are caught up in the blues

oh if only
you could find it
in your heart

to forgive
this sadly lost
and broken man

who much too late
understands
he was a fool

and in his sorrow
understands
why you refuse

but how I wish
ill-tempered weather
would ensue

to drive the joyful
all around me
to indoor spaces

so I’d be spared
the pain
of smiling faces

and the bitter
bitter memory
of losing you

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2011

  • Image above entitled “Red Umbrella” by: Christopher Shay
  • This was originally linked to Tess Kincaid’s “Magpie Tales”

    ______________________

    How Poetry Comes to Me

    by: Gary Snyder

    It comes blundering over the
    Boulders at night, it stays
    Frightened outside the
    Range of my campfire
    I go to meet it at the
    Edge of the light

  • Already Vanished

     

    Vanished

    •

    and he saw them leaving
    and he opened his mouth in farewell
    but only dust escaped

    and broken dreams

    and a spoiled promise
    from long ago
    left too long on the shelf

    so he raised his hand
    to gesture a wave
    but he was rigid
    and could not

    and they did not hear him
    and they did not see him

    for he had already vanished

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    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”

    The Sync

     

    The Sync

    •

    connection
    to make contact
    searching for the sync
    the heart of the matter
    in this solitary journey
    from womb to tomb

    a stranger
    on the bus of days
    seeking distraction
    chatting them up
    to suppress
    the voice of isolation

    immersed in the small talk
    of love
    and accomplishment
    to drown
    the incessant murmur
    of alienation

    the chant of abandonment
    ever there to remind
    that we board alone
    to make our way
    toward an enigmatic destination

    clinging
    to a vague vision
    of home

    to disembark
    as we began

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • collage entitled “The Sync” – by: rob kistner © 2011

    __________________

    • linked at Carry On Tuesday and Magpie Tales

    Heartfire (redux)

    …I did a gentle edit and rewrite of this poem from a year ago,
    in response to the May 2nd prompt at Big Tent Poetry

     

    HeartFire

    •

    the velvet nape
    of your slender neck
    swept with wisps
    of silken hair

    the tender swell
    of your pouted lips
    blossomed full
    in comely glisten

    your quiet sighs
    of smouldered passion
    hushed and low
    in twilight deep

    sterling moonlight
    that fondles you
    in slumber nude
    ‘neath midnight’s window

    autumn sunrise
    crisp and fresh
    blushed coral
    on your waking smile

    sunlight’s gold
    that falls dreamlike
    filtered soft
    in old growth forest

    unspoiled nature
    to far horizons
    from where I gaze
    on mountain’s crest

    christmas eve
    a quiet snow
    fresh fragrant cedar
    my child’s joy

    splendid jazz
    inspired verse
    an evening breeze
    a soul-felt tear

    pristine beaches
    pacific sunsets
    silvered waterfalls
    laughter with you

    what fires my heart
    what stirs my soul
    what turns me on
    these are a few

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Fret Not

    …written for Day #30, NaPoMo 2011…

     

    Fret Not

    •

    people are consumed
    by endings
    speak of their finality
    their permanence
    their absoluteness

    but I say no

    in this age of recycling
    repurposing
    sequels
    syndication
    spin-offs
    botox
    rogaine
    viagra
    endings are not absolute

    eventually inevitable
    but in that
    they are not so special
    not unique

    beginnings

    these are unique
    these are absolute
    they only happen once
    they are not inevitable
    not guaranteed

    they require a complex
    independent
    set of variables
    to come together
    perfectly timed
    properly executed

    and in that
    they are singular
    very very special

    so let us not fret
    nor dwell
    nor waste emotion upon
    something so commonplace
    as endings

    instead

    let us seek
    let us anticipate
    let us celebrate
    beginnings

    these amazing culminations
    of elusive possibilities

    they are so full
    of promise
    of potential
    of mystery

    so worth our wonder

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4/30/11

    Unfazed

    This poem was sparked by the incredible power of our earth, as exhibited most recently by the devastating tornadoes that swept through the American Southeast, and with deep reverence and sympathy for those who suffered as a result. I admire greatly your courage and will to live.

    …written for Day #29, NaPoMo 2011…


     

    Unfazed

    •

    we live
    by its grace
    at its mercy
    with delusions of mastery

    so close to extinction
    grappling awestruck
    day-in day-out détente
    survival in spite

    brute power
    incredible beauty
    this tolerant
    indifferent planet

    perhaps the imminence of peril
    embellishes our wonder
    ignites our superstitions
    kindles our will to live

    but our light will blink out
    this orb will evolve
    shine on
    unfazed

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4/29/11

    Sneakin’ Up On Breakfast

    “One of my former band members, who was with me in the band in the 1960’s, that inspired this poem from 2011, came to visit me a couple months ago. I had written a haibun at the time in his honor, which I shared here on dVerse. That haibun was inspired by this original poem. I just learned that he died Monday in Geneva, Switzerland. In his memory I am sharing this original poem today, August 22, 2019.”

    …originally written for Day #19, NaPoWriMo 2011…



     
    Sneakin’ Up On Breakfast

    ~

    our final set was 3:00 am
    the gear’s broke down and stowed
    now here we sit
    with smuggled single malt
    and the crusty sunrise special

    me and my bles-sed band
    bliss’d out from giggin’
    bleary-eyed and blasted
    mixin’ with fellow players
    who’ve now
    laid down their last licks
    for this night

    among willing groupies
    the loud hangers on
    and my sad friend Joey
    just back from Viet Nam

    we’re sittin’ and chattin’
    with the steel-heart working girls
    and sweet soul-bruised painted strippers
    they love us ‘cause we’re brothers
    in this family of the night

    all in the flesh parade
    of burnt drink slingers
    and tired cocktail mules

    hipsters grifters drifters
    and slick gamblers
    from behind the sealed doors
    of those private upstairs rooms

    swell perfumed boys
    and sisters of the leather
    queens and trannies
    pimps pushers and the cops

    huddled stark as morgue mates
    hidin’ from those cruel first rays
    like a pack of squandered vampires

    ready to scurry off
    to well-curtained rooms
    or other dark holes of despair

    it’s time to make that final score
    whatever gets you through
    ‘till sundown strikes up the band again

    I’ll tell ya
    ain’t this show biz grand
    it’s cirque du morning madness
    all sneakin’ up on breakfast

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 4/19/11

    ____________________________

    This photo below put me in mind of the 60’s when my band played the all-night R&B clubs in Newport Ky — the ‘wild’ night-world just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. It sparked this poem.

    …originally linked at Magpie Tales

     

  • Click below to read other poems at dVerse:

    Open Link Night #249

  • Pierced

    …a rant about my diabetes
    written for Day #17, NaPoMo 2011…


    Pierced

    •

    needles
    hypodermic needles
    needles needles needles

    BD 30g
    sterilized syringes

    needles in my arms
    needles in my legs
    needles in my gut
    needles six seven times a day

    needles 3 am because
    I forget the 11 pm needle

    even tiny lances in my fingertips
    to verify the needles needles work

    needles so that I can see
    needles so that I can pee
    needles so my heart will beat
    needles so I don’t lose my feet
    needles so my blood will pump
    clean as it can be

    needles in my bathroom cupboard
    needles in my car’s console
    needles in my carry on
    needles in the kitchen counter
    needles in my sock drawer

    needles often two at a time
    needles by the box loads
    coming in the mail

    needles safe inside my sharps
    then to the biohazard lane

    needles on my night table
    needles on my brain

    needles in my waking dreams
    needles in my nightmares
    needles all day every day

    needles torn from plastic bags
    needles plastic caps pulled free
    needles piercing chill glass vials
    needles units measured carefully

    needles so that I can live
    for one more day of needles

    yes

    needles
    cleans
    hypos
    spikes

    needles needles needles

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4.17.11

    Time Traveling

    …written for Day #16, NaPoMo 2011…


    Time Traveling

    •

    tonight
    careful hands
    peel back cracked
    and yellowed protectant
    from dark and aging pages

    soured
    in long-ignored
    dusty albums

    my wife is liberating memories
    life moments
    immortalized

    faces and places
    call from another time

    a beautiful young bride
    a proud new husband

    our sweet children
    living
    and not

    family and friends
    here and gone

    other visuals
    strangely vague
    yet hauntingly familiar
    draw me
    spark warm recall

    remembered laughter
    tears gratefully less bitter

    captured images
    collect on our coffee table

    so too
    do insistent emotions
    cascading one by one
    and all together

    time
    the grand thief

    who would steal
    the treasures of our heart
    who would hold hostage
    the moments of our journey

    beautifully arrested

    deeply moved
    tears well and glisten
    stirred by heartfelt gratitude
    for this proof of life

    proof
    of love

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4.16.11