____
now nearly spent
insight’s coals cool
grow ashen
yet the core still dances deep amber
your flame of logic
once a vivid light
that pierced the darkness of ignorance
and narrow vision
that flared radiant
sparking inquiry
that shone as a bold beacon
a seeker’s torch
reduced now to ember
but still warming those
who draw near
and stir your smoldering wisdom
____
rob kistner © 2009
Love & War
The Nightmare
•
my eyes
crisp from the day’s cruel sun
burnt by devastation’s fires
scorched by images of relentless horror
take refuge
in this late-evening fog
settling heavy as a shroud
clinging
opaque
mercifully obscuring
I am sustained
by this damp pall
that descends cool upon me
wraps ‘round my pained countenance
fevered with fatigue
twisted with despair
drawn
by a faded memory of honor
a faint echo of duty
a frayed thread of human dignity
I stumble
broken by this sin I shoulder
not of my making
but of my charge
my sin
unleashed by others
who would impose their delusions
to advance their evil agenda
those who would rule the world
a world now broken
corrupted by their illusions
spoiled by their vanity
a world in chaos
as darkness deepens
this nocturne
I have but this ruin-riddled
highway of blood
of dying dreams
violated innocence
merciless destruction
of horrific death
this path of my duplicity
of my guilt
my shame
and so
I stumble on
bent by the weight of this falling evening
drowned in its drenching sorrow
my spirit hollow and empty
I slink exhausted
into this coming night
and
the next night
and
the night that follows
that always follows
captive on this road of murder
of brutal
human
arrogance
a prisoner
of this lost highway
seeking forgiveness
• • •
The Return
•
distant
slurred
reverberant
like a voice in a canyon
I hear you calling
from the past
my name
rolling sweet as nectar
from your lips
soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach
glistening deep coral
as they wrapped softly
‘round each pouted syllable
when you bid me tender farewell
so long ago
our fingertips had strained to grasp
until the final sensation of warmth
of touch
had faded
and they drifted apart
I had struggled
to tear my eyes from your tears
that glistened on your lashes
and around your swollen eyes
blue as a deep summer sky
to slip softly
over the crests of your velvet cheeks
down the contour of your face
flushed as sunset
to lightly salt your quivering lips
numb and dazed
I tunneled down the loading gate
toward the jet
that took me to hell
in those final moments
I locked the image
of your sorrowed face of love
deep in my heart
there it lives as my salvation
my only grasp on sanity
in these horrific years
my lips too
had quivered on that day
from the sting of separation
from the chilling knowledge
I would soon taste
the bitter blood of war
foul with the stench of death
not yet departed
I had longed
on that day
to gaze once more
into your brilliant blue eyes
and taste your sweetness on my lips
as I return this day
trying to face reality at 30,000 feet
I taste the salt of sadness
I fear a kiss from me
with my killer’s mouth
will forever defile
the fragile innocence of your lips
soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach
that glistened
and quivered
when last we parted
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
___________________________________
…photorendering entitled “Blood Orchid” by: rob kistner © 2008
…photo below entitled “Strange Fruit”, by Lucas Rocha…
Supple Soul
•
rise up now
clad in colors
of a joyful life
rebuke the strife
tilt against convention
the prevailing norm
is a toxic storm
buck the winds of brute rebuff
stare down the face of ridicule
if buffeted by cruel
condemnation
from the foolish
sadly blown off course
be not inclined to fear
nor falter
choose instead
to tame the dread
to stay ones ground
leaning hard on raw conviction
be anchored bold
and deeply hold
to the genuine
do not resent
remain flexible
to withstand the blows
of frightened those
who would see you swayed
and have you bent
your broken spirit
for so to savor
stand head high
back straight
don’t ever waver
but never rigid
brittle
prone to break
do not forsake
your heart song
wisdom is a supple soul
skewered through
by true enlightenment
pierced clean and strong
by wonder
bleeding hope
and justice
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
…poem inspired by read write image #11, seen above, found at “readwritepoem”
…sculpture below by the remarkable Rose Bean Simpson… she is a 3D poet…
Vessel
•
there is a needing and a caring
a taking and a giving
pieces of one’s soul
peeled away
for the sake of the cherished
a duality of dark and light
positive and negative
that haunts the reaching out
and clutch of profaned hands
which inflict raw wounds
that also blesses the sacred touch
to sooth the burning bruise
and heal the unseen damage
a rootedness in the need to nurture
in the looking one-eyed blind
to see that which is not visible
to the unfocused seer
madness engulfs the heart
of the flat-light sighted
obscuring truth
the radiance of clarity
envelopes the sainted
illuminating the wondrous
voids of spirit
marked and remembered
are besought in the leaving time
at the crossing over
to the dream
or hard justice
I am here but for you
until all that remains are bones
taken up to strike down menace
that which means you harm
devour me complete
in validation of my path
consummation of my holy fate
I am your vessel of deliverance
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
…poem inspired by read write image #10, seen above, found at “readwritepoem”
The Flame
•
the pitch black
of ignorance
succumbs
to a single
flame of knowledge
• • •
rob kistner © 2008
…this is a poem of homage wrapped in a prayer for guidance
Oh, Man of Vision
•
valiant hero, I so respect you
salute you in your hard-earned triumph
and in this time of brilliant victory
pray that history does protect you
from the slings of the small-minded
trifled few of withered heart
of backward focused ignorance
by groundless hatred fully blinded
so I proudly shout, well done
your gallant stand for hope and justice
a battle centuries in the waging
with soulful dignity — finally won
I beseech the gods who raise up men
to grasp the reins and lead their people
grant that this one find the wisdom
the strength to lead us home again
• • •
rob kistner © 2008
NOTE: in this piece the term “men” represents all cognitive sentient beings
…find links to some fine writing at “readwritepoem”
Hope
•
with hope
we have direction
the energy to move
a map to follow
a hundred alternatives
a thousand paths
an infinity of dreams
with hope
we are half way there
without hope
we are lost forever
• • •
•
warm
familiar
comfortable in my palm
my fingers wrap natural cork
index raised
gauging line tension
precision brings the willow’d shaft
high above my shoulder
flexing expectantly
a flick of my wrist
and the rod arcs forward
increasing the pressure
on my fingertip
as it bends ahead
urgently
seeking release
then
a careful pluck
like a string
on a guitar
it is launched
the ultralight lure
golden at line’s end
sails silent
into the squinting summer sun
with a subtle plick
the barbless hunter disappears
slipping ‘neath the sparkle
of the undulating steam
seductively
I retrieve the bait
with quickening pulse
eagerly visualizing
anticipating the strike
patience draws the offering
alluringly
dancing ever nearer
I long for the sharp
powerful tug
for the slender thread
unreeled before me
to rise
and dart away
in a sliver of silver spray
for my heart to jump
as a proud trout
breaks water
victim to my seduction
in this moment
mind focused
breath steady
senses heightened
awaiting sudden contact
I reflect
there is a simple truth in fishing
as in life
the thrill of possibility
can be as rich
as the reward
• • •
rob kistner © 2008
• photorendering entitled “The Strike” by: rob kistner © 2008
A hike into the Cascade Mountains, in image and verse.
Author’s note: It was a beautiful day for hiking here in Oregon, so I made a trek into the Mt. Hood wilderness — camera in hand, notebook and pen in my shirt pocket. This is my day, shared with you here, in image and verse. The photo is a shot of Lost Lake, through the trees, with Mt. Hood in reflection.
•
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
feeling the smoothness of my walking stick
clutched comfortably in my right hand
an audible stir in the treetops
wind
wafting down the western Cascade slopes
invigorating
the steady rhythm of my footsteps
hypnotic
rounding a bend
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop
mesmerized
light drifts down dreamlike
filtered by the woodland canopy
settling golden around me
a power
a presence
is tangible
a breeze enfolds me
intoxicating
the scent of living earth
an addictive bouquet
cedar
Douglas fir
Ponderosa pine
moss
bark
loam
and ionized mountain air
my spirit rises
my being – weightless
I float away
lifted into oneness
wholeness
epiphonal
suddenly
I’m startled
a young doe bounds onto the trail
standing proud
golden in the light
she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time
my eyes dart to find her
here then there
in vain
I catch a glimpse
silver-blue
shimmering
where massive trees part
wind-blown mountain water
crisp
clear
it sparkles
Lost Lake
the namesake of this trail
my reason for this trek into wilderness
climbing a boulder at trail’s edge
I sit
pull my legs under me
lean forward
elbows on knees
I face lake-ward
basking in the energy
of this natural cathedral
I become very still
listening
gazing
just being
in rapt wonderment
at the magnificence that surrounds me
this place is my church
this moment is my prayer
I am in touch with my soul
with the eternal
• • •
rob kistner © 2007