Tag: soul

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


Vespers Prayer

Vespers Prayer

•

sun sits low on the horizon
dusk slowly advances
the chill of night begins to settle
all the dreams have gone to bed

I sit quiet
close by the fire
soothed by its crackling glow
warmed by the memories
that huddle ‘round me

from far into the past
they drift forward
through the years
they visit gentle
one by one
memories of those
I’ve been blessed to love
a tender tear for every one

there is a sweetness fills the air
just a touch of soft regret
my heart is full
my spirit calm
a peaceful surrender
to fate’s embrace

would this evening never end
but soon
the flames will falter
as the lingering embers die
and as the dark
blankets my chamber

I pray to be carried
away in sleep

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Panther

• this is the final in a series of edits of a poem I first drafted in 1997
it was born of my contempt for the barbarous act of caging wild animals in a zoo •

this final edit inspired by prompt #24 at Writer’s Island,
prompt #23 at We Write Poems,
and prompt #74 at Carry on Tuesday.



…a thing of beauty is a joy forever, a captive wild soul — is a tragedy…

 

Panther

•

from rippled sinew black as midnight
bores a stare of molten gold

a furious but calm inferno
searing deep to burn your soul

unyielding is this panther’s pace
held captive in this foolish zoo

cold eyes rivet snarled contempt
unfathomed pools of quiet rage

on this panther paces paces
turns and paces back he paces

graceful stride of brute resolve
presses on to test his bounds

proud this captive soul just paces
frustration turns anger retraces

this brutal prison of false environ
does not fool this mighty beast

observe how he continues pacing
instinct certain this is not home

his piercing gaze fixed well beyond
his suffered fate of cruel confine

see the panther pacing pacing
his nature steeled his spirit strong

relentless sorrow wild longing
drive on and on his constant stride

this will not break his fierce resolve
he tracks freedom he stalks life

imprisoned he will forever pace
and he will pace

and he will die

• • •

Panther

(haiku)
•

caged beast close your eyes

have no fear of letting go

dream of wild freedom

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Masquerade

…this poem was inspired by Halloween 2010 prompt #27 at Writer’s Island.

 

Masquerade

•

when donned the mask
the transformation
smoulders forth
the other

the fantasy
of your desire
carnal fire
on wings of dreams

she is she
and too
the other

unleashed at light
of passion’s moon
a masquerade
to ignite your soul

manifest at your request
sustained this night
at her delight

she is isis
she is venus

she is your every longing
loosed
to bring you every pleasure

she is everything
and all of this
bestowed
with aphrodite’s kiss

as you burn
remember this
beneath the mask
your real bliss

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Emerge In Grace

…this tanka was inspired by prompt #26 at Writer’s Island,
and by prompt #139 at One Single Impression.

 

Emerge In Grace

•

go down in trial

endure the tribulation

emerge rapt in grace

steeled by the tempering fire

molten molded pure and strong

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Evening Grace


 
Evening Grace

~

as dusk descends
my stride holds steady
buoyed by the gentle embrace
of the downing golden sun

early shadows fall soft

vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes ’round my shoulders
envelops me in calm

there is still road to travel

eager to keep the journey
I’m drawn by the beauty
of the rising moon in sunset

coaxed by a soothing breeze
I venture on toward my love

rolling amber fires the lane
spreads warm ‘cross the horizon

mist begins to rise and waft

nestled in the valley
I see my hearth & home
guilded copper in this eventide

my heart quickens
stirred by this gorgeous vale
the ribbon of its brook
entwines my soul in wonder

my smile sweetens
my pace livens
I hum a quiet evensong
in the grace of this splendid day

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010


…artwork entitled “Evening Glory” by: Steven Mitchell…

  • click below to enjoy more poems at dVerse:

    Open Link #277 – Live edition

    • Emerald Eyes

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #25 for 2010 at Writer’s Island,
    also offered “off-topic” to the October 15th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.

    Emerald Eyes

    •

    emerald eyes captivate
    fix me in their gaze
    lift me
    carry me
    to the realm of unfinished dreams

    they strip me of fear
    longing
    of inhibition
    to render me transparent

    I rise weightless
    unburdened of care
    an untethered being of pure moment
    soaring through universes within universes

    a traveler in time and space
    ever-expanding consciousness
    aware of all
    riding the strand continuum
    drawing it forward
    reeling it back
    slipping all temporal bounds

    a being of universal presence
    adrift in the infinite now
    lost in the mystery
    veiled in those emerald eyes

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    No First Ink

    Offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression,
    and in response to prompt #73 on Carry On Tuesday,
    also in response to prompt #189 at Three Word Wednesday.




    No First Ink

    •

    I lean upon my folded fist
    cool against my temple
    elbow solid on my cluttered desk

    eyes droop and flicker
    aflame with spoiled sleep

    face slacked
    head now dropped
    held in my hands
    heavy with confusion

    skull upon the finger bones
    in weighted indecision
    procrastination presses down

    where art thou muse
    I seek weightless inspiration
    to be lifted up by you

    instead
    the hum of cooling bytes
    drones relentless in my ears
    impossible to ignore
    no matter how I try

    thoughts like digits on a dollar slot
    spin unsettled in my mind
    they neither click nor lock in place
    they tumble in a jumble
    to roll and blur just out of focus
    lost in mental fog

    sunken in my writer’s chair
    I remain immobile
    paralyzed by perplexity
    imprisoned by the chaos
    awhirl in my mind

    the freedom of decision
    impossible to manage

    I fear nothing will be writ
    no first ink will be shed this day

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    To Soar

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #23 for 2010 at Writer’s Island,
    the Ginsberg ‘american sentence’ is offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression.

    To Soar

    •

    to feel the warmth of early spring sun
    to wander through old growth
    to see the sunset into the pacific
    to breath in the fragrance of summer
    to see joy in another’s eyes
    to hear my child’s laughter
    to be breath-taken by art
    to be dazzled by autumn’s palette
    to taste the richness of chocolate
    to immerse in the rhythms of music
    to see the morning dew sparkle
    to hear the sweet lilt of a thrush
    to know the quiet of snowfall
    to raise my voice in song
    to drift on a clear mountain lake
    to get lost in poetry
    to feel your gentle touch

    …is to soar

    • • •

    to just try to fly is to fall short, one must expect to soar, then leap

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Deep Azure

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #21 at We Write Poems.

    Deep Azure

    •

    on the boulevard below
    last night’s rain puddles
    midst the chaos of metro-clutter

    as if abandoned by the waters of earth
    it shoulders its way through the culverts
    in search of mother sea

    this day begins golden and crisp

    bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

    lover and beloved
    we sit by the morning window
    with tea and curiosity

    we talk

    for this moment
    our souls spill one into the other
    until I am distracted

    your lips continue sculpting words
    but I’ve fallen into your deep azure eyes

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    The Taste

    This type of poem is known as a haibun, and combines prose with haiku. It is offered in response to the September 20th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.

    The Taste

    •

    It was an embrace I’d wished had been endless, at our tearful farewell – your body supple and warm, pulsing with life.

    lips lush as cognac
    open softly to kisses
    urgently linger

    I passed through security, turned and fixed on your gaze – prayed it was not the last time I’d look into your eyes. I wandered dazed down the ramp, to the jet that would take me to the fury of hell. I locked your face of love deep in my heart.

    That cherished image proved my grasp on sanity through two years of horror – through the sting of separation, the bitter taste of war, the foul stench of death.

    I return this day, facing reality at 30,000 feet, the salt of sadness on my lips. I am ashamed, frightened to see and touch you again, but I burn to do so.

    so different now
    my hands angry with bloodshed
    innocence is lost

    I fear a kiss from my killer’s mouth, will forever defile your precious lips – lush as sweet cognac, that day we parted.

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    NOTE: this piece is by no means a condemnation of the men and women who are sent into the teeth of hell to fight, suffer, and sometimes die. Rather, it is an expression of my deep respect for what they endure, and a quiet tear for what is so often sadly lost in so doing.

    Ripples

    Tankas inspired by this wonderful painting offered as prompt #21 at Writer’s Island,
    and by prompt #134 at One Single Impression.



    Reflections

    •

    memories of you
    ripples on a mirrored lake
    rise and drift gently
    into the golden sunlight
    carrying me on their crest

    • • •

    Joie de Vivre

    •

    clear blue summer sky
    deep azure crystalline lake
    cool breeze on my face
    fresh scent of water lilies
    ripples gently lap the boat

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • painting entitled “Fisherman” by: Vane Kosturanov

    Mute

    This piece is offered in response to the September 13th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.




    Mute

    •

    there is no half-eaten answer
    with which to embellish
    or to skirt the evidence

    the stench of truth
    permeates the debris of proof
    in a swarm of crusted guilt

    the orphaned child of supposition
    abandoned on the dock of iniquity
    impaled by the chant of sterile innuendo

    wearing a temporary backbone
    fashioned of suffering
    and the tears of innocence

    to witness the violent clash
    of malevolence and courage
    and remain forever mute

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Believe

    This piece is offered in response to prompt #19 at We Write Poems
    and in response to the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post.



    • image entitled “Weary” – colorized, digitally rendered by: rob kistner 2010


    Believe

    •

    I’d like to make myself believe
    the dream I dreamt as a young man
    that we can change the world’s heart
    to embrace love for one another

    I’d like to make myself believe
    people are by nature good
    that we can live in peace
    and make the world a better place

    I’d like to make myself believe
    universal understanding
    is a common goal
    of the peoples of this planet

    I’d like to make myself believe
    we haven’t lost our faith
    in these sacrosanct ideals
    of an elevated life

    I’d like to make myself believe
    there still exists somewhere
    a shared and nurtured vision
    of a paradise on earth

    I’d like to make myself believe
    but empty runs the hourglass
    again I’ve heard the daily news
    and I’m so weary, and brokenhearted

    yes, I’d like to make myself believe
    I’d like to, really like to
    but sometimes now I even wonder
    if anyone ever truly did

    • • •

    • poem above borrowed key line from the song “Fireflies” by Owl City

    _________________

    Time Running Out

    •

    once demure discourse

    now rhetoric to offend

    volatile neighbors

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • haiku above also offered for the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales,
    and the September 15th prompt at Three Word Wednesday.


    Mag 23

    Mother-less

    This piece is offered in response to prompt Mag 31 at Magpie Tales



    Mother-less

    (bastard’s lament)

    •

    undesired
    discarded
    thrown away

    though whole
    sound
    and useful

    no matter

    labeled mistake
    misbegotten
    unfortunate

    shown the back

    outside
    looking in

    left behind

    alone
    by the side
    of life’s road
    to endure
    the harsh weather
    of abandonment

    tried
    convicted
    sentenced for life
    to suffer confusion
    shame
    the sorrow
    of the unwanted

    condemned

    guilty only
    of the crime
    of inconvenience

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010