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

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

Scorched

 

Scorched

•

the landscape
losing its gild
mottles
in gunmetal grays

fractured storm clouds
churn
in huddling menace

brightened breezes
that sizzled in the aspens
build
buffeted by the angry front
thrashing
into brittling winds

the world
tumbles towards darkness

my heart
shudders in deep shadow
mourning love’s devastation

scorching words
bite and sting
where they sizzle still
blistering my careless tongue

would that it rain
drown the lands
that I might
turn my face to the sky
flood my foolish mouth
charred by regret
with drenching waters
of contrition

to douse the cruel fire
of that
which should never have been said

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

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

________________

inked at Writer’s Island

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

    Burst

    …written for Day #13, NaPoMo 2011…


     

    Burst

    •

    sky pulls with spring rain
    sprouting seeds push seeking light
    sun stirs petal’s blush

    engorged buds burst to unfurl
    nature reaches tipping point

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4/13/11

    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

    Had Not

    …written for Day #9, NaPoMo 2011…


    Had Not

    •

    had not she crossed my threshold
    on that september day

    had not her voice
    drifted like silk on a summer breeze
    to wrap sheer and sweet
    around my heart

    had not I been drawn
    like a bloom to the morning sun

    had not I been captivated
    as a hummingbird
    by a drop of nectar
    crystal on a velvet petal

    had not my love come down
    soft as a rolling mountain meadow

    had not this dream been born

    had not my life begun again

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011