Tag: transcendent

Caisson

 

 

Caisson

•

see you
see you in this carrion half-light
unworthy scavengers

you cluster to ravage
to defile the entity
drawn in this caisson

but you cannot

the living presence it bore
is greater than you

your gluttonness lust
might pick the meat clean
pick the bones dry

but this being has lived well beyond the muscle
beyond the sinew tendon and bone
these were its limits

now it is set free

so help yourself brother crow
sister raven
birds of black
help yourself

this essence has gone beyond
far beyond
to become infinite
pure thought
unbound spirit

what you pick apart is the afterimage
of a mortal now eternal

so take your fill crow
have your way raven
blackbird — do your best
engorge the glorious

then be gone
scatter
and far off

this caisson has delivered its miracle

unus est privatus

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_____________________


…this piece inspired by readwritepoem…

• photorendering entitled: “gathering” by: alice popkorn

Avatar

 

 

Avatar

•

you do not see
me

no shadow do I cast
that you perceive

no movement
to catch your eye

no color
no shape
no texture that is truly mine

you see
the avatar of your fantasy
the puppet of your desires
the specter of your lust

to you
I
am invisible

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

___________________________

• you can find more avatars at One Single Impression

…image found here…

 

Alchemy

“Went digging through some of my older poetry to find this piece I wrote 9 years ago, March 2010. I remember being inspired to write it watching Hermione’s love potion scene in ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Price.’ I had just purchased the DVD at the time. My grandson was watching the DVD last night, which put me in mind of this poem. Wanted to share it here for dVerse OLN #252. It contains very minimal revision and a slight upgrade in graphic embellishment”

85D7649B-893D-4DF3-B34A-BBD5FCCC14D1

 

Alchemy

~

you cannot change
a heart of iron
into a heart of gold

no precious warmth
will manifest
from something hard and cold

a love that’s locked
and set in cast
can never be set free

there is no hope
nor magic spell
not even alchemy

51A71700-37A0-46A2-8732-6ED479833CDF

you cannot stop
the hands of time
from spinning ever on

when the sand
is through the hourglass
those days are ever gone

you cannot bring summer back
when the leaves
are off the tree

there is no hope
nor magic spell
not even alchemy

2B51D4D0-8D43-418B-82F5-4FED8AB9C058

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010
revision © 2019

 

  • Click below to check out some fine poetry at dVerse:

    OpenLinkNight #252

    • Flower

     

     

    Flower

    •

    young flower fresh-bloomed
    engorged with succulence
    bursting with life’s urgency
    vibrantly seductive

    dewy lips of supple petal
    lay open in offered sweet delight
    velvet pistil of gentle blush
    enwrapped in throat of golden hue

    this vision of tender ecstasy
    entices with a lilting sway
    a fragrance to intoxicate
    wafting from the luscious folds

    breathing in the rich bouquet
    all senses stirred and tantalized
    my eyes embrace this visage rare
    pleasured in the heady moment

    captive by such vital beauty
    consumed, one savors slowly
    exquisitely delicious
    this tender bud, full bloomed

    • • •

     

    Flower

    (minimalist version)

    •

    young flower
    fresh-bloomed
    engorged
    bursting
    seductive

    supple petals lay open
    velvet pistil
    soft in golden throat

    lilting fragrant folds
    stir the senses

    consumed
    one savors slowly

    exquisite
    this tender bud
    full bloomed

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    …come see what else is blooming at Magpie Tales…

    The Book(s)

    Two books that changed everything for me — “On The Road” by Jack Kerouac,

    and “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test” by Tom Wolfe.

    I was a disenchanted-college-student-rock-musician and had just been awakened by the ’67 Summer of Love, when I came upon both of these books in the Spring of 1968 in a bookstore in Clifton, Ohio, just down from the Ludlow Garage, where my band, Stone Fox, had just opened for the Allman Brothers and Santana.

    These books fueled my frustration with “the system”, sparked my wanderlust, and eventually found me and my three best friends, astride internal combustion iron horses, young men heading west — and thus began the rest of my life.

    What these books represented was not a map for the rest of my life, I’m well beyond that angst. Rather, they’re important to me because they were the catalyst that first ignited my genuine independent thought, and empowered me to act on that thinking.

    Following here is a poem I wrote which reflects, quite well, where my head was during that period. You can also click on the highlighted passage young men heading west in the previous paragraph to read a poem I wrote about the motorcycle journey.

     

    Bohemian Nightfall

    •

    when night fell on bohemia
    the streets were set ablaze
    in black light
    in strobe light

    it was tie-dyed psychedelia
    when night fell on bohemia

    jack and neal were on the road
    ridin’ with the fire-whores
    of angst and indignation
    like combustin’ carnal fireballs
    when night fell on bohemia

    allen was howlin’
    pal’n with corso
    and long’n for peter

    hunter, groin deep
    in the brain-drug flesh festival
    …hunter was fearful
    and loathing it all
    when night fell on bohemia

    bill, stark naked
    was lunchin’ with the devil
    jelly-rollin’ in a hell fire
    when night fell on bohemia

    gary headed for cold mountain
    to watch it all from sourdough
    electric bob went subterranean

    me – stung by disenchantment
    the swollen outlaw bastard
    coming fast
    hard as holy hell
    cresting and crashing in
    just as night fell on Bohemia

    I was on my way
    howling mad
    and mind-expanded
    in a rolling demon’s fire,
    lighting the night
    dancing with beelzebub
    raving and blazing
    hormone’d-hungry
    lusting and longing to gorge
    every forbidden morsel and crumb –

    the smorgasborgadelic mindfeast

    when night fell on bohemia
    ken and tim
    gathered up the faithful
    on the magic bus
    and stole off with the future

    like pranksters

    ever further

    • • •
    rob kistner © 2008

    …this post was inspired by sunday scribblings…

    Duet

    Duet
    •

    rounding a bend
    brushing through waist-high fern
    I crest a knoll and stop

    mesmerized

    awash in the warm brushstrokes of evening
    filtered through this woodland realm
    as the waning sun paints the world golden

    below me
    a pristine ribbon of silver-blue water
    flecked with sunlight
    sparkles like a strand of gems

    transfixed
    I marvel at the beauty
    at the power
    of this mighty river

    as it tumbles in timeless clarity
    over boulder and falls
    ever onward

    its lyric voice
    beckons me

    I come
    entranced
    stand immersed in its energy
    captivated by its duet with the wind
    that plays the boughs of the towering pines
    singing down the lofty climbs
    to gently brush my face
    toss my hair
    and dance past me round a bend
    in perfect harmony

    serenaded in this evensong
    sunset has melted into moonrise
    the waters ripple sterling in soft applause

    the moon sets aglow this splendid concert
    so I listen
    spellbound

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    _____________________

    • photographs taken near my home in the Cascade Mountain foothills

    top photo entitled: “Sunlight on the Clackamas”
    bottom photo entitled: “Moon over the Santiam”

    _____________________

    …this edited rewrite of an older work of mine was inspired by sunday scribblings…

    Ferryman

    Ferryman

     

    The Wondrous Dream…

    •

    sailing on a skiff of dreams
    the ferryman standing watch

    you soar untethered
    ‘mong the clouds of wonder

    to magical mystical ports of call
    where all imagined is in your grasp

    if only you could stay the course…
    but fast – daybreak approaches

    • • •

     

    The Final Dream…

    •

    caught in the final dream
    called forth by the ferryman

    spirit stirs to the distant voice
    readies for the journey

    one foot still in this mortal realm
    soul resigned to embarkation

    time folding in upon
    as slow you approach the light

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    _____________________


    …this piece inspired by readwritepoem…
    …and by sunday scribblings…

    photo collage entitled: “charon” | by: h.koppdelaney

    So Many Gifts

    NaPoMo poem #29

    This is the twenty ninth and the penultimate of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    This poem is a tongue-in-cheek, but well intentioned look at life’s many gifts, inspired by prompt #29 at read write poem.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

     

    So Many Gifts

    •

    we were granted
    many gifts
    when we arrived
    here in this life

    perhaps the most precious
    is the gift of family

    to endure
    the gift of family
    and any other calamity
    we were bestowed
    the gift of courage
    the gift of patience
    is a part of this

    now when we require
    more reinforcement
    we have the useful
    gift of friends

    should all these gifts
    prove just too much
    there is the gift
    of nature’s beauty

    if we overdose
    on all things tranquil
    the fallback gift
    is our creative spark

    to prevent this gift
    from being wasted
    we have literature
    music and art

    and to preserve
    dark karmic balance
    we’ve been blessed
    with the critique clique

    finally we come
    to this the greatest
    of all the gifts
    that we possess
    and that gift being
    the gift of love

    though we enjoy
    all of these gifts
    life still can be
    quite tough at times

    but don’t despair
    no
    don’t lose hope

    some secret gifts
    have we been granted
    to give us strength
    and keep us going

    the first of these
    our sense of wonder
    and hand in hand
    our sense of awe

    and should all else falter
    there is the failsafe
    the secret weapon
    our sense of humor

    but please take heed
    keep careful watch
    if you lose this latter
    my friend
    you’re screwed

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

     

    Seven Red

    NaPoMo poem-set #28

    This is the twenty eighth day of poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    This set of seven haiku were inspired by the read write poem NaPoWriMo prompt #28, “Seeing Red”.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

     

    Seven Red

    •

    inquiries of heart
    from summer red lover’s lips
    float like butterflies

    •

    green leaves on blue pond
    float in golden summer sun
    red bird softly sings

    •

    golden sun burns bright
    scorching the red rock canyon
    Sedona summer

    •

    eyes red from crying
    words cannot be taken back
    she will leave today

    •

    a ruby droplet
    the yellow rose bears sharp thorns
    we will share red wine

    •

    path forked this spring morne
    white-tails chose tall trees instead
    redwoods are safety

    •

    spring snow-pack’s melting
    fresh mountain stream tumbles clear
    under red maples

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

     

    Unexpected

    NaPoMo poem #27

    This is the twenty seventh of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    This poem is an edited rewrite of a older poem of mine and was inspired by a moving personal experience, offered here in response to the NaPoWriMo Wordle prompt #27 at read write poem.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

     

    Unexpected

    •

    unquestionable joy
    in a place most unexpected
    the crystalline eyes of an innocent
    cruel society deems disabled

    bent and stooped
    impossibly twisted
    confined to constant care
    and his rolling metal chair

    a hardscrabble life
    that would drive a lesser soul
    to lunacy

    but his gentle eyes reflect a wonder
    my jaded heart has long since lost
    by arrogance extinguished

    his timeless spirit knows only trust
    it pours forth from his being

    positioned close and cozy
    to the modest stage
    he is enraptured by the music
    engulfed within the rhythm

    enthralled by this magic
    he is beaming
    like an angel

    the band plays fast
    the band plays slow
    the band plays loud
    the band plays low

    he rocks forward
    he rolls backward
    waves in jubilation
    and launches heart and soul
    into a wicked shoulder wiggle
    as he vibrates unabashed
    with pure delight

    the veins of his neck
    stand out full and proud
    as he tosses back his head
    uninhibited in laughter
    tears of joy
    leaking down his cheeks

    his person full alive
    his essence full aware
    his nascent bliss aglow
    he is wholly in the now

    he is filled with every note
    wrapped up in the cadence
    sparked by the drumbeat
    thrilled by every nuance

    he experiences an ecstasy
    at which I can only marvel
    its clarity and power I can never know

    it’s at this moment
    that I realize
    how much I do not understand

    as I behold this able man

    faint envy stirs
    watching his unbridled joy

    so complete
    and unexpected

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

     

    Becoming

    NaPoMo poem #26

    This is the twenty sixth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    This is my second metaphysical poem in two days, and was inspired by the NaPoWriMo prompt # 26 at read write poem.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

     

    Becoming

    •

    as is the spark of birth
    the burst of a seed
    the first ray of dawn
    the tug of love wakening
    the moment of humility
    the pen to blank page

    so is the essence of becoming

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

     

    Being Now

    NaPoMo poem #25

    This is the twenty fifth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    This was inspired by a prompt at read write poem to write a “how to” about something difficult to do.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

     

    Being Now

    •

    step gently through the dream-gate

    take hold the strand continuum

    ride the light that carries you

    to the is, was, the will be

    transcendence moment

    when the all is one

    in the perfection

    of pure being

    here now

    alive

    ∞

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    • you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

     

    Rapt

    NaPoMo poem #9

    This is the ninth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

    • NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

    Rapt

    ____

    my footfalls
    drum the root chambers
    of the old growth
    each step
    cushioned by centuries of needle-drop
    in this ancient forest

    enjoying the rise and fall
    twist and turn of the trail
    I amble

    my walking stick is smooth
    clutched comfortably
    in my right hand

    tensions dissipate
    soothed
    by the audible stir of the wind
    in the treetops

    wafting down the western Cascade slopes
    it invigorates

    the steady rhythm of my footsteps
    hypnotize

    rounding a bend in the trail
    brushing through waist-high fern
    I crest a knoll
    and stop

    mesmerized

    filtered by the towering woodland canopy
    light drifts down dreamlike
    settles golden
    into the natural cathedral before me

    a presence is tangible

    a breeze enfolds me
    filled with the intoxicating scent
    of living earth

    an addictive bouquet
    of cascade red cedar
    douglas fir
    ponderosa pine
    moss
    bark
    loam
    and ionized mountain air

    my spirit rises
    my being grows weightless
    any sense of self floats away
    lifted into oneness
    wholeness
    bliss

    I’m startled from my reverie

    a young doe
    bounds onto the trail ahead
    stands proud
    pauses in the golden light

    she considers me briefly
    then disappears
    quick as a stolen glance
    quiet as passing time

    darting my eyes
    here then there
    in a vain attempt to follow her
    I catch glimpse of silver-blue
    shimmering
    where massive tree trunks part

    a wind-blow lake appears

    this crisp mountain mirror
    is the reason for my trek
    into this mighty wilderness

    climbing a boulder at trail’s edge
    I sit
    pull my legs under me
    and lean forward
    elbows on knees

    I face lake-ward
    basking in the energy

    I grow very still
    listen
    gaze
    I become this moment
    rapt

    in touch with my soul
    with the eternal
    transcendent
    in paradise

    ____

    rob kistner © 2009

    ___________________________

    you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

    Continuum

     

     

    Continuum

    •

    emerald eyes stare

    fix me in their grasp

    lift me into the realm
    of unfinished dreams

    strip me of fear
    longing
    of inhibition

    render me transparent
    as I rise weightless
    unburdened of care

    an untethered being of pure moment
    filled with universes within universes

    a vessel of time and space
    ever-expanding consciousness
    aware of all

    not as separate
    but as the is – the was – the to become

    with infinite reach
    embracing the strand continuum

    drawing it forward
    reeling it back
    in uninterrupted linearity

    for no reason
    but the being of its universal presence
    its omnipotent here-ness
    the infinite now

    seeing through the emerald eyes
    with crystalline gaze
    I behold the beginning of the endless
    touch what is not known
    glimpse what cannot be now
    but is forever

    an epiphanal glance
    at the mystery of fate
    the why within the why

    ever I ascend to realization
    that the meaning of the mystery
    is veiled in those emerald eyes

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2009

     

    ___________________________________

    …photorendering at top entitled “Emerald Eyes” by: rob kistner © 2008

    ___________________________________

    A BRAND NEW WORD: •Epiphanality – 1. The quality of transcendence and enlightenment that exists in something 2. the ability to transcend and rise above

     

    …wonderful poems found at “readwritepoem”

     

    The Strike



    The Strike

    •

    warm
    familiar
    comfortable in my palm
    my fingers wrap natural cork
    index raised
    gauging line tension

    precision brings the willow’d shaft
    high above my shoulder
    flexing expectantly

    a flick of my wrist
    and the rod arcs forward
    increasing the pressure
    on my fingertip
    as it bends ahead
    urgently
    seeking release

    then
    a careful pluck
    like a string
    on a guitar

    it is launched

    the ultralight lure
    golden at line’s end
    sails silent
    into the squinting summer sun

    with a subtle plick
    the barbless hunter disappears
    slipping ‘neath the sparkle
    of the undulating steam

    seductively
    I retrieve the bait
    with quickening pulse
    eagerly visualizing
    anticipating the strike

    patience draws the offering
    alluringly
    dancing ever nearer

    I long for the sharp
    powerful tug

    for the slender thread
    unreeled before me
    to rise
    and dart away
    in a sliver of silver spray

    for my heart to jump
    as a proud trout
    breaks water
    victim to my seduction

    in this moment
    mind focused
    breath steady
    senses heightened
    awaiting sudden contact

    I reflect

    there is a simple truth in fishing
    as in life

    the thrill of possibility
    can be as rich
    as the reward

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2008

    • photorendering entitled “The Strike” by: rob kistner © 2008