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

For Naught

 

For Naught

•

the virgin page taunts me

untouched

the bright white
throbs like a migraine

no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
does it bear

no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
does it proffer

nothing sensual or sensitive to share

no tale to spin
no plot to thicken
no coin of phrase to turn

just vast blank space
tormenting nothingness
cruel emptiness
to drain my brain

dissonance spills through my open window
the scatter of autumn showers
stir of october wind
rustle of moist leaves

in the distance
muffled keens
bursts of barking
far off yelps

the edgy piercing din
of dripping prowling night
intrudes in damp insistence
to fill my head
fevered with frustration
to leave not one small space for wit

the search for insight all for naught

no spark to light this dark
no muse in sight

nothing clever or profound
in the air this night

chilled
slack

uninspired

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Wonder

 

Wonder

•

to grow up
is to chase off
our innocence
our naïve belief
in the world as a beautiful place
to harden against the magic
of our childhood dreams

but if by chance
we can cling to just one
perhaps we can hold on
to our precious sense of wonder

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• photo: “Alice in Wonderland” by Yuki Valentine

Ballo diVita

 

Ballo diVita

•

he
a master of time and space
she
so young and trusting

he
a wizard of colors and words
dazzled her with danger and dreams
she
a nubile daughter of nature
anointed him with exotic pleasures

he
replaced the sun in her sky
with a fire he conjured and kept
she
warmed herself in its heat
came to his bed at its setting

they
the left foot and the right foot poised
to step forth in creativity’s dance
to whirl and glide persistent and true
in the measure and balance of love

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

King of Sunrise

 

King of Sunrise

•

on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
held hostage by tire and curb
as if abandoned by the waters of earth

it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of mother sea

this day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

me and the first edition
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly serenaded by the 5:00 AM news

I read
occasionally glimpse the screen
grow troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious

in this moment
the tv drones
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare distracted

the announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I’ve fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this world

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

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

 

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

Boldy Go

 

Boldly Go

•

the great wheel of time
turns ever slow and steadily
its ponderous mass unstoppable
it presses onward mightily

climbs the mortal mountain
bearing the weight of history
of ages and civilizations
borne then razed by its immensity

our lifetimes ride this wheel
how far is but a mystery
locked in fate ’round we go
rolling bold toward hidden destiny

frail temporal beings
of a most amazing bravery
we dream of a tomorrow
for which there is no guarantee

adrift toward a future
of veiled and vague contingency
still — we dare to love
despite this vast uncertainty

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• this poem linked at Writer’s Island and One Single Impression

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”

The Sync

 

The Sync

•

connection
to make contact
searching for the sync
the heart of the matter
in this solitary journey
from womb to tomb

a stranger
on the bus of days
seeking distraction
chatting them up
to suppress
the voice of isolation

immersed in the small talk
of love
and accomplishment
to drown
the incessant murmur
of alienation

the chant of abandonment
ever there to remind
that we board alone
to make our way
toward an enigmatic destination

clinging
to a vague vision
of home

to disembark
as we began

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• collage entitled “The Sync” – by: rob kistner © 2011

__________________

• linked at Carry On Tuesday and Magpie Tales

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

Unfazed

This poem was sparked by the incredible power of our earth, as exhibited most recently by the devastating tornadoes that swept through the American Southeast, and with deep reverence and sympathy for those who suffered as a result. I admire greatly your courage and will to live.

…written for Day #29, NaPoMo 2011…


 

Unfazed

•

we live
by its grace
at its mercy
with delusions of mastery

so close to extinction
grappling awestruck
day-in day-out détente
survival in spite

brute power
incredible beauty
this tolerant
indifferent planet

perhaps the imminence of peril
embellishes our wonder
ignites our superstitions
kindles our will to live

but our light will blink out
this orb will evolve
shine on
unfazed

• • •

rob kistner © 4/29/11

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