Tag: lost

Spellbound

poet
you are enigma

darkness and shadow
you veil and shroud

fire and light
you burn and incandesce

torch my essence
burn deep my soul
trouble my spirit
unsettle my being

then poet
ignite my wonder

whet my seeker’s vessel
with need
to be filled full

poet
at once familiar
yet
exotically foreign
wonderfully strange

wrongly boxed but
exquisitely wrapped

in angst
indignation
longing
discovery
loss

in love

with all these
and infinitely more
you reach an empty place
deep within

echoing my past
awakening my myths

exposing
that which I embrace
in the moment
as truth

refocus me

stirring my pain
my anger
my loneliness

my hope

offering just enough answer
that I combust with question
sacred uncertainty

I’m held
suspended in inquiry
in memories of neverwas

enrapt by your careful words
transfixed by mystery
elevated by insight
impaled by vision

spellbound

This Night

As you read this Christmas poem, with its taste of bittersweetness, see it not in a dark light — embrace it as a tale of a long-awaited journey, to be with the one beloved.


digital collage entitled: “Christmas Tear” – by: rob kistner © 2011

 

B rushed my shoulder on this morning’s train
then at the market it was there again
while in line to get my breakfast tea
from our favorite table it beckoned me

in the crowd at the festive mall
glimpsed like a flicker of candle light
I swear I saw it fleeting fall
upon the gifts I did not wrap this night

upon the tree I did not decorate
the greeting cards I did not write
in frail voice I chastise fate
singing carols doesn’t feel right

this season I see it everywhere
the shadow of your love
elusive as a shopper’s smile
caught up in the crush and shove

but soon I’ll catch and hold it close
warmly to my breast
it will sweetly fill my heart
lay soft with me this midnight rest

for it returns this night each year
the same night you went away
in dreams you kiss away each tear
touch my lips that beg you stay

taken from my life in sleep
gone without a last goodbye
as we dreamed at midnight deep
each year I weep and wonder why

but this year I’ll not awaken blue
in the end an easy thing to do
this night I’ll make our dreams come true
this midnight deep I will come to you

*
rob kistner © 2011
update by rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

This poem originally posted 2011: at Magpie Tales

And So

“sweet memories of my youth”

 

And So

~

and so
I think of her
and wonder

what was the fire
that burned so bright
and raged so fierce
as to consume complete

our essence
left embered char
smoldered ashen

that in its heat
and fury
could not sustain

back I drift
to fall upon
the tenderness of youth

the satin skin
the comely gaze
the velvet touch

a silken voice
rising
to lust and longing

to impatience

to immortality

its soulful siren
so seductive
the nectar of all forbidden

the breathless joy
of sweet innocence

when the wonder
stirs to every mystery
and the spirit lights
to every spark

igniting passion’s pyre

to leave one spent
in blissful ruin
at story’s end

tender memory
of the throaty whispers
of promised pleasures
sweetly secreted
in her virgin kiss

and so
I think of her

remembering
with no regret

savoring the subtle linger
harbored in my heart
of the taste
of her lips

long ago
at seventeen

~ ~

“lips lush as cognac
open softly to kisses
urgently linger”

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 2019)

________________

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click here to read more poetry at dVerse

Solitaire


“A Dinner Table at Night” — by: John Singer Sargent

 

Solitaire

~

immersed in pleasured chatter
bursts of heightened laughter

in the ringing clank of crystal
of silver on fine china

crisp bustle of starched service
lush rustle of satin’d lace

aglow in silken’d candlelight
caressed by gentle strains

wafts of sweet Bordeaux
heady fragrance of cut orchids

midst soft din and dance of mirth
I gaze upon your empty face
and see there in your hollow eyes
our game is solitaire

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2012

Drowning

Drowning

~

on the boulevard
outside
last night’s rain
puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
as if abandoned
by the waters of earth

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

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

lovers and their beloved
sit by morning windows
with tea
and curiosity

they talk

in these moments
their souls spill
one into the other
entranced

somewhere
tender lips
are sculpting sweet words

but here in this quiet
I drown in your eyes
fallen into azure pools

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2012

  • Click for bonus pleasure…

    • Morning’s Pardon

  • Morning brings we fallen mortals forgiveness and hope…

    •  

    Morning’s Pardon

    ~

    fallen into night’s embrace
    held down by dark shadows
    I writhe in the arms of nightmare

    would that I could rise
    into the light of dawn’s nod
    but I’m flesh, weak, consumed by flesh

    purity laid raw entangled in my sin
    skin to skin with my obsession
    restrained to roil in my transgression

    but soon the light of morne
    will fold itself upon me pardoned
    oh pray I not be too far drawn asunder

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Golden Lady

     

    Golden Lady

    •

    golden lady in sensuous silk
    a beauty sure 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 fire and hypnotize
    then wrap around you knowing

    you are now her helpless captive
    quite hopelessly addicted
    in the velvet grip of this smoldering waif
    is she an angel — or is she wicked

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Bert Stern

    For Naught

     

    For Naught

    •

    the virgin page taunts me

    untouched

    the bright white
    throbs like a migraine

    no burden of remorse
    no weight of mystery
    does it bear

    no sting of anger
    no wink of mirth
    does it proffer

    nothing sensual or sensitive to share

    no tale to spin
    no plot to thicken
    no coin of phrase to turn

    just vast blank space
    tormenting nothingness
    cruel emptiness
    to drain my brain

    dissonance spills through my open window
    the scatter of autumn showers
    stir of october wind
    rustle of moist leaves

    in the distance
    muffled keens
    bursts of barking
    far off yelps

    the edgy piercing din
    of dripping prowling night
    intrudes in damp insistence
    to fill my head
    fevered with frustration
    to leave not one small space for wit

    the search for insight all for naught

    no spark to light this dark
    no muse in sight

    nothing clever or profound
    in the air this night

    chilled
    slack

    uninspired

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Silence – two reflections

    These two poetic reflections are unrelated, beyond their focus on silence. The first reflection here considers what it is to fall into the deepening silence of old age. The second reflection looks at the silence that causes, and also results from repression…

     

    1ST REFLECTION

    Endings

    •

    shrouded by evening in waning october
    as autumn tumbles towards winter
    is to know the losing of the light
    the ever growing darkness
    the advance of the cold
    the time of endings
    death’s due vigil
    deep silence

    how do I abide this season

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    2ND REFLECTION

    Silenced

    •

    escape was an improbability
    as was understanding
    opinions regarding outcome
    ignored altogether
    fate sealed with no discourse
    executed with an air of entitlement

    when one has no arms to flail
    no fists to clench
    no fingers to point
    gestures of dissent are sorely limited
    rights easily wrest away
    freedom falls beyond grasp

    inevitable
    when one has no voice

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    poem “Silenced” inspired by image below

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Why Raven?

     

    Why Raven?

    •

    there stands a raven in the rain
    liquid-black as molten coal
    beside a woman
    besot and broken
    thoughts so black and molten
    outstretched in her anguish
    ravin’ in the rain

    raven in the rain
    why is it that you stand here
    so very soaked and sullen
    beside this woman so besot
    so broken and bereft
    heart so black and shattered
    ravin’ in the rain

    has her ravin’ called you forth
    do you feel kinship in her blackness
    does it bind you common thread
    is there a faint scent of death
    carried on her plaintive breath
    she outcast and shunned
    so like your thankless plight

    picking ‘mongst the carnage
    rooting in the road-kill
    the writhing crawling carcass rot
    left the spoiled — not the spoils
    this is your lot is it not
    to consume the left-for-dead
    the world’s lost decay

    raven in the rain
    are you here to feast today

    • • •

    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

     

    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

    Panther

    • this is the final in a series of edits of a poem I first drafted in 1997
    it was born of my contempt for the barbarous act of caging wild animals in a zoo •

    this final edit inspired by prompt #24 at Writer’s Island,
    prompt #23 at We Write Poems,
    and prompt #74 at Carry on Tuesday    .



    …a thing of beauty is a joy forever, a captive wild soul — is a tragedy…

     

    Panther

    •

    from rippled sinew black as midnight
    bores a stare of molten gold

    a furious but calm inferno
    searing deep to burn your soul

    unyielding is this panther’s pace
    held captive in this foolish zoo

    cold eyes rivet snarled contempt
    unfathomed pools of quiet rage

    on this panther paces paces
    turns and paces back he paces

    graceful stride of brute resolve
    presses on to test his bounds

    proud this captive soul just paces
    frustration turns anger retraces

    this brutal prison of false environ
    does not fool this mighty beast

    observe how he continues pacing
    instinct certain this is not home

    his piercing gaze fixed well beyond
    his suffered fate of cruel confine

    see the panther pacing pacing
    his nature steeled his spirit strong

    relentless sorrow wild longing
    drive on and on his constant stride

    this will not break his fierce resolve
    he tracks freedom he stalks life

    imprisoned he will forever pace
    and he will pace

    and he will die

    • • •

    Panther

    (haiku)
    •

    caged beast close your eyes

    have no fear of letting go

    dream of wild freedom

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Emerald Eyes

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #25 for 2010 at Writer’s Island,
    also offered “off-topic” to the October 15th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.

    Emerald Eyes

    •

    emerald eyes captivate
    fix me in their gaze
    lift me
    carry me
    to the realm of unfinished dreams

    they strip me of fear
    longing
    of inhibition
    to render me transparent

    I rise weightless
    unburdened of care
    an untethered being of pure moment
    soaring through universes within universes

    a traveler in time and space
    ever-expanding consciousness
    aware of all
    riding the strand continuum
    drawing it forward
    reeling it back
    slipping all temporal bounds

    a being of universal presence
    adrift in the infinite now
    lost in the mystery
    veiled in those emerald eyes

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Believe

    This piece is offered in response to prompt #19 at We Write Poems
    and in response to the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post.



    • image entitled “Weary” – colorized, digitally rendered by: rob kistner 2010


    Believe

    •

    I’d like to make myself believe
    the dream I dreamt as a young man
    that we can change the world’s heart
    to embrace love for one another

    I’d like to make myself believe
    people are by nature good
    that we can live in peace
    and make the world a better place

    I’d like to make myself believe
    universal understanding
    is a common goal
    of the peoples of this planet

    I’d like to make myself believe
    we haven’t lost our faith
    in these sacrosanct ideals
    of an elevated life

    I’d like to make myself believe
    there still exists somewhere
    a shared and nurtured vision
    of a paradise on earth

    I’d like to make myself believe
    but empty runs the hourglass
    again I’ve heard the daily news
    and I’m so weary, and brokenhearted

    yes, I’d like to make myself believe
    I’d like to, really like to
    but sometimes now I even wonder
    if anyone ever truly did

    • • •

    • poem above borrowed key line from the song “Fireflies” by Owl City

    _________________

    Time Running Out

    •

    once demure discourse

    now rhetoric to offend

    volatile neighbors

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • haiku above also offered for the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales,
    and the September 15th prompt at Three Word Wednesday.


    Mag 23