•
time has etched a patina
on the heart of the sun
and marked my soul
with the scars of love and loss
equally deep
equally cherished
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
• linked at Magpie Tales
Marked
Tag: soul
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:
Heartfire (redux)
in response to the May 2nd prompt at Big Tent Poetry…
•
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
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.”
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.
Burst
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
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
•
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
•
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
•
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
Limitless
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
The Mourning
•
the hollow wallow
aglow in the spotlight’s heat
to boast odes of praise for him
in death
who had few words of warmth for him
in life
while those who love him
pay true tribute
with searing tears
of silent grief
• • •
rob kistner © 2011