Tag: meditation

The Edge


Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “The Edge” by: rob kistner © 8/15/24

 
Standing at the edge
feeling far below
the great tides

the ebb and flow
the rise and fall

the come and go of centuries
of millenniums
wave by wave
day by day
as it has always been

this might incarnate
this power of indifference
this surge of perfect apathy

and I
as insignificant as the grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
dragged helpless in the undertow

a great froth crested wave
rises up in beckon
the silk of azure blue
draped smoothly down its sloping back
as it dances on the deep

how easy I could slip
into that fathomed realm

down
down
ever down
into the waiting silence
without so much a noticed sound
quiet as a breaking heart

absorbed into the churn and roar
without so much a ripple
to disturb the steady surf

a subtle crease
irrelevant
erased
even as it came

*

rob kistner © 2011
originally linked at Magpie Tales

rob kistner © 2024

More poetry at: dVerse

 

Lost Meditations

EA50D2AC-D8B2-48C4-BF8F-515D1941A438

 
Lost Meditations

~

lost meditations resurface
in these november years

reflections of mysteries once pondered
beauty beheld
of veiled truth pursued

in quiet depth
disturbed only by faint breath
beckoning me inward
to the bright center of joy

where a flutter of understanding
in a snap-flash of oneness
shudders me conscious
in shivering anticipation
of that which is not known

that which cannot be named
in the twilight of this finite
as threads of evermore
bind fast my dreams
to carry them onward
effortlessly

I gently surrender
as lost meditations resurface
in my november years

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2008
(revision © 2018)

__________________

  • Click here to read more poetry at dVerse

    • Rāgarāja’s Daughter

     

    Rāgarāja’s Daughter

    •

    radiant vision silken skinned
    translucent alabaster blaze
    torrid as a teen’s temptation
    leaned low here before me yearning

    on plush cloud so sensuous
    sweet comely goddess forward bent
    graceful face aglow with craving
    you conjure ardor’s obsession

    a’bloom in beckoned fiery swoon
    forearms rest on pillow soft
    thoughts aflame in primal need
    lips burning smile a fetched seduction

    Rāgarāja’s daughter lush with Spring
    smoldering in golden light
    that folds upon you satin supple
    to bathe in warmth your arched desire

    divinely-pleasing luscious morsel
    served up by a master’s hand
    passion bound to tantalize
    to hypnotize my hungry eyes

    lost in carnal fantasy
    fired by this goddess buff
    arises now my animal
    in a beastly urgent lust

    to wrap ‘round
    this maiden magic
    flesh to flesh
    to full consume
    to thrust
    and thrust
    my randy lust
    ’til passion’s seed
    has turned to dust
    and wanton
    carnal flames
    are snuffed

    Spring’s sweet madness
    at last
    enough

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2012

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Our True Work

    Something life’s experiences have taught me: seeing the world for what it is makes you smart, envisioning the world for what it can be – makes you wise…

     

    Our True Work

    •

    there are countless contradictions
    in the elements of the work we do
    and conflictions as we strive
    but bring these not to table

    for I am you
    and you are me
    and we are all together
    in this constant labor
    for our daily bread

    and this toil to sustain the body
    this does not feed the spirit
    this is not our true work

    to lift someone in need
    to measure well in tolerance
    to seek the components of peace
    to create enduring possibility

    this is the true work
    in the final sweep
    ‘round the face of time

    this is what the soul eats

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales and OSI

    Boldy Go

     

    Boldly Go

    •

    the great wheel of time
    turns ever slow and steadily
    its ponderous mass unstoppable
    it presses onward mightily

    climbs the mortal mountain
    bearing the weight of history
    of ages and civilizations
    borne then razed by its immensity

    our lifetimes ride this wheel
    how far is but a mystery
    locked in fate ’round we go
    rolling bold toward hidden destiny

    frail temporal beings
    of a most amazing bravery
    we dream of a tomorrow
    for which there is no guarantee

    adrift toward a future
    of veiled and vague contingency
    still — we dare to love
    despite this vast uncertainty

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • this poem linked at Writer’s Island and One Single Impression

    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

    Skye Fyre

    …written for Day #12, NaPoMo 2011…

     

    Skye Fyre

    ~

    the grand sunset gun
    hunter readies his grip
    as the great golden orb
    returns weary from his trip

    quicksilver moon
    embarks on her night’s course
    hunter fixes sharp eyes
    steady on the source

    gaia reaches gently
    into vast quiet space
    diamonds of stars
    gaia sparkles in place

    hunter locks the horizon
    solid in his sight
    his important grand task
    still remains on this night

    to set the late sky ablaze
    before he goes to sleep
    in patterns most bold
    in colors quite deep

    he aims his sunset gun
    and blasts overhead
    a riot of corals
    ambers oranges and red

    with a grand brilliant flash
    the heavens are afire
    in rich vivid hues
    burning hot with desire

    this dusk color festival
    has fully begun
    so hunter retires
    his job is well done
    but he first locks away
    his grand sunset gun

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 4/12/11

    Ergo

    …written for Day #11, NaPoMo 2011…


     

    Ergo

    •

    we are infinite beings
    awaking slowly
    from some infinite place

    our coming to be
    unknown to us
    as any mystery

    learned in stories
    in waiting relationships
    gradually
    we open to our identity

    our essence
    an enigma

    awareness dawns
    like the rising
    of a newborn sun

    we feel its warmth
    and flow effortlessly
    into timelessness

    we are as though
    immortal

    we see not over the horizon
    because we see no horizon

    we comprehend no end
    immersed only
    in our beginning

    it is therein exists
    the miracle of life

    our infinity

    we are infinite beings
    in this moment
    dreaming
    to sustain the moment

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4.11.11

    Deep Indigo

    …written for Day #7, NaPoMo 2011…


    Deep Indigo

    •

    he wakes
    unbidden by alarm
    lingers in the darkness
    warm neath the blankets

    fumbling for the lamp
    follows moments of procrastination
    before he lifts himself upright
    slides feet into slippers
    to rise ever so stiffly
    from the comfort of bed

    pulling on his robe
    he ambles to the kitchen
    takes a cup from the shelf
    pours chamomile tea
    brewed ready each morning
    by the wonders of technology

    he retreats to his office
    to his chair
    where it waits
    welcoming
    in a pool of soft light
    buffered against the chill
    of pre-dawn dark

    he sits
    sips steeped motivation
    quietly peeling away fog
    that layers his mind
    residue of another fitful night

    he is somber
    but pleased to be awake
    to be alive
    grateful for the peace
    and the quiet of early morning
    fleeting though it is

    his thoughts
    begin to un-blend
    to gather
    in a cohesive palette
    stirring his notice

    slowly they sort
    in colors of mood

    melancholy greys
    fear’s dark ebony
    purples of pain and anger
    the violet of regret
    sorrowful blues
    gentle peaceful greens
    golden joy
    laughter’s bright amber
    love’s ruby red
    the scarlet of passion

    this morning
    reflections on his mortality
    newly threatened
    shoulder in coldly
    crowding his reverie

    pondering his plight
    cursing fate
    he struggles
    neath the weight of uncertainty

    a riot of emotions
    overcome him
    he seeks clarity

    he reaches for his laptop
    his tool of resolution
    his canvass of language

    in the spreading saffrons
    and corals of dawn
    he begins painting deep indigo

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Limitless

    …limitless talent, unfathomable spirit…

    Limitless

    •

    • written for Writer’s Island

    Equinox

     

    Equinox

    •

    winter’s journey ends
    lengthening light bears witness
    spring crests and breaks
    here at the equinox

    life bursts forth
    poking through pliant soil
    unfurling on barren branch
    here at the equinox

    nature stirs in song and call
    celebrating new birth
    sustaining the cycle
    here at the equinox

    my heart leaps
    my spirit dances
    to this rhythm of renewal
    here at the equinox

    • • •

    rob kistner © 3/20/11

    Celebratory Blues

    …on the occasion of my 64th…


    Celebratory Blues

    •

    the hands of time swing round faster and faster
    life has carved his journey in his face
    the pendulum beats steady its insistence
    he wonders how long can he keep this pace

    he sits here four years looking back at 60
    he’s known tragedy and triumph both the same
    borrowed bought and sold his way to this place
    leveraging his soul to play the game

    an older man now gazing out his window
    trying to remember how long it’s rained
    alone here by the fire in contemplation
    was all he lost worth what it was he gained

    but sweet memories like candles softly flicker
    friends and lovers cherished come and gone
    held in warm embrace wrapped in his heartstrings
    in his dimming years he prays they still shine on

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011