Tag: sad

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

Frozen Man

Vote = Voice — Speak Up! 2CC45105-E580-4197-9120-35D724A74CF8

Voting HELP: CLICK HERE

 


line art: “Frozen Man” — rob kistner © 2008

 

Stopping Is No Option

~

— QUADRILLE —

Stopping is no option

giving up
is giving in
grip letting go of dreams

frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage

happy is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded

stopping is no option
for the times
they are a’changin’

rob kistner © 2020

~ ~

— COMPLETE VERSION —

* Watch me read Frozen Man complete version: CLICK HERE

Stopping is no option

to lose the way is to keep going
keep moving forward
lest one atrophies
rigid with despair
paralyzed with doubt
locked in hopelessness
bound by fear

the giving up
is the giving in
is the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams

loss of faith debilitates the soul
cripples the manifest light
that shines so bright
at the leap into sacred uncertainty
so bright
as to boldly illuminate truth

frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage

terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked

wounded by fear
bleeding out the color of life
hemorrhaging joy
exsanguinating possibility

a cold brittled husk
mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death
as to light the way of truth

valiant is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded
a cry of dissatisfaction
a voice of change
a stand for defiance

stopping is no option

so senators and congressmen
you best heed the call
don’t stand in the doorway
don’t block up the hall
for they that will lose
will be they who have stalled

so brothers and sisters
raise up your hand
let it be known
throughout the land
if we want change
we must take a stand

NO
stopping is no option

for the times
they are a-changin’

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2008
revision © 2020

 

https://youtu.be/wZ9drv78dCQ
 

NOTE: To read more about folly: CLICK HERE

Aeropachydermicide

Aeropachydermicide: recklessly causing the death of someone or something by actions that result from the foolish belief that one is so smart and powerful that one can make an elephant fly.

 

Aeropachydermicide

  • Debunking the ridiculous theory of human dominion.

    • ~

    somewhere between our petrochemical insanity
    and our reckless dance with fractured atoms
    we believed we were the miracle
    and it all went seriously awry

    we fantasized we had dominion
    that we understood the vast unknown
    could control the raw chaotic
    that we had figured out the why

    so we delved into dark science
    with no regard for frail nature
    flailed our way across the planet
    belched our leavings into our sky

    we so bought into our egos
    that we perceived ourselves as gods
    that we were capable of anything
    perhaps make the elephant to fly

    but we humans lost sight of balance
    did not comprehend our place
    as only one of precious many
    we let the tipping point slip by

    now we wonder what will happen
    to our misbegotten dream
    stare through disbelieving tears
    as we watch it slowly die

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 10/3/11
    revised © 2019


     

  • Click below to check out more poetry at dVerse:

    Poetic: Theories of Everything and Anything


     

  • Check out more poems on Toads

     

    35C6DAEF-40AA-452C-885C-C373E1DE84F6
    Hi! I’m Edgrrr, rob’s shih tzu.

    • Hope

  • For society to have a real chance we need quality education!

    IMG_8584

     
    Last Hope

    ~

    I lift myself quietly
    very quietly
    from beneath the sheets
    soiled with neglect
    soaked with my nightmares

    I am again awake
    from another dark night
    that began with fear
    fear I might not survive
    and ends in sorrow
    realizing I did

    I rise
    make my way carefully
    past the shallow-breathed crumple
    that lay milky-eyed
    in a heap on the floor
    un-moving
    save a twitch of the head

    a head which now harbors demons
    where nocturnal angels of sweet release
    had lain down lush upon it
    in fevered embrace
    lustfully conjured
    by last night’s spoon and lance
    still skewered silver in the soured vein

    this wreckage is my mother

    I stop but for a glance
    verifying life
    then move on head down
    angle to the bathroom
    to the scum-brown bowl
    to wash my face
    lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
    that hangs bare and lonely

    strange eyes
    hold me in the mirror
    broken as my heart

    eyes of knowing
    eyes of sadness

    grief courses through me
    weighing upon my being
    burning into my heart

    I want to cry out
    but there is no one here to hear me
    no hero that can help me

    driven by instinct to survive
    by urgency to flee
    I shudder away the paralyzing despair

    in this dank food-less morning
    in this ruined single room
    in this coat-less chill of predawn
    I gather up my books
    step lightly through the door
    down the damaged stairs
    into the hostile streets
    heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams

    I duck and dodge
    in and out of shadows
    praying to once again avoid the evil
    that lurks and slinks
    among the garbage and graffiti
    of these crumbled bricken’d canyons

    that rolls slow and lethal
    gripping cold blue steel
    in predatory drive-by

    evil
    seductive as a smile
    deadly as a snake

    evil
    which if diligence should fail
    I fear will consume my soul

    deliberately I continue
    until at last I find my way
    to the building
    to the classroom
    to my teacher
    to my desk

    to the only hope
    to which I dare cling

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011
    (revision © 2019)

    ___________________________

    Click to learn more about toad’s social awareness

    • The Fool


    “Sad Harlequin” by: Lladro

     
    The Fool

    ~

    I will not smile today, you see
    my broken heart is hurting, so
    tears now reside where joy ran free.
    I will not smile today, you see
    she loved my gold, but not so me.
    Played for a fool, I did not know.
    I will not smile today you see,
    my broken heart is hurting so!

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2008
    (revised © 2018)

  • see more at dVerse

    Repetitive Forms – Meeting the Bar

    __________________

  • Probably invented in the 13th century, the triolet was cultivated as a serious form by such medieval French poets as Adenet le Roi and Jean Froissart. … The earliest triolets in English are those of a devotional nature composed in 1651 by Patrick Cary, a Benedictine monk, at Douai, France.
     

  • History. The triolet is a close cousin of the rondeau, the rondel, and the rondelet, other French verse forms emphasizing repetition and rhyme. The form stems from medieval French poetry and seems to have had its origin in Picardy. … Also, at the end of the 15th century, the term triolet appears for the first time.
     

  • The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. … Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

    • That Hollywood Sparkle

     

    That Hollywood Sparkle

    ~

    it’s not so much we resent the hungry
    no more than do we despise the poor
    rather we avoid and dismiss them
    with the dull cough of apathy
    we find them disturbing and dangerous
    they disquiet our comfort
    they disrupt our summer stroll downtown

    we do not flow with the milk of kindness
    our part is more the dark brandy of denial
    afterall what is it we can really do
    we do however praise our stars
    for their sensitivity toward the downtrodden
    it makes the less fortunate more glamorous
    and we like the hollywood sparkle it imparts to tragedy

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 6/26/18

    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

    This Heart

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    This Broken heart

    ~
    this heart’s now yours
    this damaged heart
    this brittle fractured aching heart
    broken by you, every part

    I’ve no use for this ruined heart
    plucked here from my chest
    I seek a new and vital heart
    one that’s far less stressed

    a fresh heart that’s unbreakable
    a heart able to forgive
    unmarred unscarred yet tender
    beating with the joy to live

    143ADF16-F73E-4E1B-9C6B-DB3DB925C984

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Gone

    …to loved ones missed, now sadly departed…

    Gone

    •

    after the clutter of leaving
    after the hurry of goodbye
    after sweet anticipation faded away

    after no more embraces
    after the laughter was memory
    after the sadness collected day upon day

    after the spaces fell empty
    after the familiar grew distant
    after our time together had become the past

    after the taste of regret
    after the loneliness mounted
    after sands in the glass spilled away much too fast

    I did not think it would be this quiet
    I did not think it would seem so far
    no I did not know it could be so quiet
    nor did I know how this silence would scar

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    The Dimming

     

    The Dimming

    •

    here is the change

    the forgetting

    the slipping away
    into the haze of memory

    the frustration
    of no longer being able
    and still
    the burning longing to…
    remember

    and you
    dimming in this fog
    midst the times we have cherished
    the places we have loved
    fading beyond reach

    an ever-mounting loneliness
    like so many vacant seats

    empty

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Silent

     

    Silent

    ~

    do you hear the autumn wind
    stirring in the branches

    do you hear the leaves rustle

    do you hear my breath
    whispering your name

    do you hear my heart beat

    do you hear my tears fall

    or is it silent

    silent as the light-less realm
    that hauntingly engulfs my soul

    silent as that night
    when apples spilled
    on the broken stair
    where rail eluded
    your grasping hand

    silent as your futile cry
    when no voice came
    to grace your lips

    tender lips
    that parted gently
    to hold my kiss

    lips

    that will not know again
    sweet fruit

    nor love

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011

     

    poem & image above inspired by visual prompt below

    * linked 2011 at Magpie Tales

    * linked 2020 at Poets & Storytellers

    Two Moments

    These are two poems about two powerful and indelible life-moments I shared with my son Justin.

    The first “Night Sky” is about the courageous moment he chose, at age fourteen, to leave his mother’s home to move across our country, to live with me in Oregon — through the years of his high school and college graduations, and his early career. This was an incredible gift he gave me.

    The second, “Book of Days”, is about the moment, two days ago, when he and his wife Christine, moved from Oregon to pursue a career advancement — a deeply bittersweet moment for me.

     

    Night Sky

    •

    you arrived in spring
    asking why I’d left

    I had no good response
    but the other shoe had fallen
    with a deafening thud
    so what was I to do

    you looked startled by life
    and asked me about sorrow

    I had no good response
    so I took you in
    and watched as you untangled truth
    marveling at your balance

    for 19 years
    together we watched the night sky
    and wondered about love

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011


    Book of Days

    •

    in the book of days
    clearly it is written
    your time for moving on
    beyond the reach of yesterday

    in this book of days
    so too is it written
    clearly mine grow short
    my grasp loosens on tomorrow

    our miles apart grow greater
    our time together lessens
    as you pursue the future
    I slip further in the past

    and per the book of days
    this is the way of nature
    the son becomes the father
    the father bows away

    yet stands this father’s dream
    would that this space between
    but vanish with this pain
    of bittersweet farewell

    that the book somehow rewritten
    would bend both time and space
    and my days once more
    stretch full to your horizon

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Book of Days

     

    Book of Days

    •

    in the book of days
    clearly it is written
    your time for moving on
    beyond the reach of yesterday

    in this book of days
    so too is it written
    clearly mine grow short
    my grasp loosens on tomorrow

    our miles apart grow greater
    our time together lessens
    as you pursue the future
    I slip further in the past

    and per the book of days
    this is the way of nature
    the son becomes the father
    the father bows away

    yet stands this father’s dream
    would that this space between
    but vanish with this pain
    of bittersweet farewell

    that the book somehow rewritten
    would bend both time and space
    and my days once more
    stretch full to your horizon

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • written for my son Justin upon his moving away

    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