Bogged

 

Bogged

•

that’s the thing about ruts
the longer we remain bogged
the harder it is to escape

•

stopping is no option

to lose the way
is to keep going
keep moving forward

lest one be rutted in uncertainty
rigid with the rigor of fear
bogged down in despair
paralyzed

stalled in hopelessness
the giving in
the giving up

caught in anguish
the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams

arthritic loss of faith
debilitates the soul

cripples the manifest light
that shines forth
at the leap into dark unknown
into the sacred mystery

frozen is the doubting man
withered in a worried cage
terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked

thus
he bleeds out the color of life
to become cold and grey

a petrified husk
of brittle remorse

mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death

stopping is no option

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

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”

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

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

  • 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

    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

    Ship of Dreams

    …I have always loved the fantasy art of Dean Morrissey and James C. Christensen, and this week’s prompt at Writer’s Island put me in mind of their highly imaginative and captivating work, which in turn inspired the poem below, with its “tongue-in-cheek” ending…

     

    Ship of Dreams

    •

    fantastic is this spell I’m under
    magic of a splendorous kind
    a world of cornucopic wonder
    treasure troves of dreams to plunder
    in this kingdom of my mind

    here I live a life enchanted
    here no fear of any threat
    sorrow is by joy supplanted
    no limit to desires granted
    what I want is what I get

    fantasy’s elaboration
    a god of pleasure I ascend
    soar in sweet hallucination
    in ships of my imagination
    oh, would this dream but never end

    Epilogue

    well now, oh dear, that was a bit much
    somewhat carried away it seems
    euphoria finds me out of touch
    with reality, good sense, and such
    perhaps I’ll temper my daydreams

    throttle back my vision quest
    bring fascinations down to size
    moderation will serve me best
    but dreams are so hard to repress
    no limits when you fantasize

    • • •

    rob kistner © 3/26/11

    • written for Writer’s Island

    • art piece at top by Dean Morrissey

    ________________________

    …below is a sample of the fantasy art of James C. Christensen

    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

    Young Flower

     

    Young Flower

    •

    velvet soft
    passion’d purple
    newly bloomed flower

    full and succulent
    tender plumped folds
    glisten with dewy nectar

    heady fragrance
    pleasures the senses

    luscious form
    ripened blush
    delights the eye

    a gentle touch parts silken petals
    reveals the inner bud
    swollen with the urgency of life

    intoxicating
    such vital beauty

    consumed
    one savors slowly

    exquisitely delicious
    this young flower
    full bloomed

    • • •

    rob kistner © 3/14/11

    …written for Magpie Tales