but soon his victor’s smile
was stricken from his face
when his opponent showed his hand
he held diamonds – ten to ace
rob kistner © 2019
to ignore it
to abuse it
to mistreat it
to misuse it
to mishandle it at every turn
no way am I deserving
yet over and over
you lay it at my feet
to protect each step
on life’s harsh road
time after time
you wrap it round me
as shelter
from sorrow’s storm
again and again
it nurtures and sustains me
on my journey through
the wastelands of the lonely
this light
this precious treasure
no way do I deserve
but forever will I cherish
your soul gift
of selfless love
would I could give you
such a gift in return
it would be my purest
my most unselfish gift
a gift golden as the sun
tied in a tinsel of stars
to nurture you always
to keep you radiant
my most precious gift
of a love supreme
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 7
she knows the stride
the position of her body
just before elevation
she understands the speed
the run up
the lead foot
the plant angle
the knee bend
the thrust
she has done this
literally thousands of repetitions
no need for trepidation
she knows the energy of the moment
of the crowd
as they anticipate
as she anticipates
the lift off
the rise
the glorious weightlessness
the thrill of flying
the feel of returning to earth
to her toes
her feet
how to offset the momentum
she knows
to snap to a graceful stop
come to point
straight and strong
arms raised and extended
the applause
that exhilaration
she knows this all
to her bones
she can do this
in her sleep
she has this mastered
she is a master dancer
but
that flash of doubt
what if I can’t
and again
she fails
there is now one leap
she fears she cannot master
the leap
back through time
to her youth
to her glory
her invincibility
still
she leaps
she will always
leap
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 6I live in the Pacific Northwest of the United States. The three states that make up this corner of our country are Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. These three states are very mountainess, and in comparison to the eastern part of our country, the Pacific Northwest mountains are tall, young, and rugged. Hundreds of beautiful, wild waterfalls can be found throughout the region. This is a land of waterfalls. Shown here are three famous examples.
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 5
rob kistner © 2019
The concrete form of this poem is intended to mimic the double cascade waterfall as seen in the picture just above here in this post.
DAY 4
~
at the threshold
he hesitates
their eyes meet
hold
each wanting to speak
…silence
she sighes
looks away
he drops his head
exhales
pushes open the door
steps through
walks on
not looking back
it has all been said
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 4
I marvel at the energy
the beauty
at the tenacity
of this pristine stream
sculpting this magnificence
it tumbles in sterling clarity
over boulder and falls
ever onward
tireless
timeless
captivated
I lift my head
listening
the breeze murmurs
whispering through the boughs
of the towering pines
it wafts down the lofty climbs
brushes my face gently
tosses my hair
dances past me
round the bend
a quick soft breath
escapes my lips
like a prayer
the sun paints the day
in spectral golden rays
I’m enthralled
breathless ‘midst this beauty
thankful for the gift of life
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 3This was inspired by Gary Snyder (born May 8, 1930). Gary is an American poet (often associated with the Beat Generation and the San Francisco Renaissance), as well as an essayist, lecturer, and environmental activist — frequently described as the “poet laureate of Deep Ecology”. Snyder is a winner of a Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. His work, in his various roles, reflects an immersion in both Buddhist spirituality and nature – to which I strongly relate.
He grew up near where I lived 25 years in Portland Oregon and attended Reed College there. He was friends with Allan Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and most of the beat writers – the majority of whom had urban backgrounds. Gary spent much of his youth, including his college years, hiking and working in the Northwest backcountry. This experience and his interest in things rural, made him appear exotic to his Beat Generation peers — who often referred to Snyder as ‘the Thoreau of the Beat Generation’
A world traveler, with a fondness for the Far East; Gary spent many years exploring and living in the wilderness of the western United States, especially the Pacific Northwest. He loves this region, as I do 30 years now, having just moved from Oregon to Washington. His work is strongly influenced by this love. I offer this poem I’ve written in the spirit of Gary Snyder! It recounts a wonderful experience I had on one of my many Lost Lake hikes, high up in the Cascade Mountains, out of Zig Zag Oregon, on the western slope of Mt Hood.
each step cushioned
by centuries of needle-drop
in this ancient forest
rounding a bend in the trail
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop
mesmerized
light drifts down dreamlike
filtered by the woodland canopy
settling soft around me
far off
a glimpse
of azure waters
suddenly
I’m startled
a beautiful young doe
bounds onto the path
just in front of me
standing
proud
golden in the glow
she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 2
I first met her on April Fools Day, April 1st, 1963. She was 16, as was I, but she was certainly no fool. In this young man’s eyes, she was absolutely beautiful – and sexxxy! We became part of a summer group of close friends that met everyday at the local swimming pool – and every night in the park by the bandstand, where they would spin our favorite 45’s. Young, immature, each to different degrees, but with healthy bodies, pumping with testosterone and estrogen – the hormones of desire. Tender flesh, slathered in suntan lotion, beaded with pool water – or sweat pearls, aglow in the heat of a Midwest summer night. She was my wanton wench and I was her potent pirate – both hungry teenage free spirits.
Yet, we were both foolhardy innocents, caught up in that naive time of the summer of ‘63, before the tragedies of the 1960’s, that began in November of that year, at Dealy Plaza, in Dallas Texas. We were coursing with sexual desire! They were urges we didn’t fully understand how to handle. But back then, for the most part, it was dealt with sweetly and politely. It began with holding hands, fingers interlocked, a special shared pleasure. An arm around your girl was almost foreplay. And a kiss on the lips was ecstacy! Sexual progress then was discussed in baseball terms.
It was in this strange, sexually-charged, physically-repressed summer, that I fell in love with my first real girlfriend. It was both glorious, and agonizing. Lots of petting, abundant with soft sweet flesh – but my girl and I were too afraid to go “too far”. But that first young love, was adoring, worshipful affection – wondrous infatuation, powerful impulses played out awkwardly to the sounds of “He’s So Fine”, “Then He Kissed Me”, “I Will Follow Him”, until sadly, almost inescapably… “Can’t Get Used To Losing You”. Yes, she eventually made me a fool for love – but by then, she had also made me a man. But those amazing, angst-filled first loves my friends and I discovered, with all the wonderful, overwhelming pleasure and pain, were never to be forgotten.
rob kistner © 2019
DAY 1
her songs possess timeless wisdom
and moments of honest indecision
they illuminate those who listen
with the light of her inner vision
her moments of honest indecision
uncover beautiful nuggets of life
while the light of her inner vision
reveal insights sharp as a knife
those beautiful nuggets of life
rife with truth and sometimes tragic
provide insights sharp as a knife
lady blue is musical magic
rob kistner © 2019
“A tribute to a truly amazing poet, songwriter, vocalist, musician, composer, and artist! Joni is a genuine treasure of our time.”
Links to my other 3 Pantoums:
1.) Pantoumadness
2.) Seabed Sway
3.) Flame Of Learning
Click here to read more poetry at Poets United Poetry Pantry
DAY 1
Lakota Sash Wearer
Lakota
I am Lakota!
Lakota!
Fighting among ourselves.
All we can say with one whole heart
Is we won’t sell,
No we’ll never sell,
We want the land!
The lonely coyote calls.
In the woodlands, footprints of the deer.
In the barrooms, poor drunk bastard falls.
In the courtrooms, deaf ears, sixty years!
You think we’re sleeping–but
Quietly like rattlesnakes and stars
We have seen the trampled rainbows
In the smoke of cars.
Lakota Shaman
I am Lakota!
Brave,
Sun pity me.
I am Lakota!
Broken,
Moon pity me.
I am Lakota!
Grave
Shadows stretching.
Lakota,
Oh pity me.
I am Lakota!
Weak,
Grass pity me.
I am Lakota!
Faithful,
Rocks pity me.
I am Lakota!
Meek,
Standing water.
Lakota,
Oh pity me.
Lakota Pride
I am Lakota!
Lakota!
Standing on sacred land.
We never sold these Black Hills
To the missile-heads,
To the power plants,
We want the land!
The bullet and the fence, broke Lakota.
The black coats and the booze, broke Lakota.
Courts that circumvent, choke Lakota.
Nothing left to lose.
Tell me grandfather,
You spoke the fur and feather tongues,
Do you hear the whimpering waters
When the tractors come?
Sun pity me!
Mother earth,
Mother Moon,
Pity me.
Father sky,
Father
Shadows
Stretching on the forest floor.
Mother earth,
Oh pity me.
Father sky
Father grass,
pity me.
Mother earth
Mother Rocks,
pity me.
Father sky,
Father Water,
Standing in a waken manner –
Mother earth,
Oh pity me!
Lakota Warrior
Joni Mitchell © 1988
Initial United States contact with the Lakota during the Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1804–1806 was marked by a standoff. Lakota bands refused to allow the explorers to continue upstream, and the expedition prepared for battle, which never came. A land treaty was signed with the Lakota in 1851 granting the Lakota rights to the grassland plsins and the Black Hills. Nearly half a century later, after Fort Laramie had been built without permission on Lakota land, the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1851 was then negotiated to protect travelers on the Oregon Trail. The Lakota had previously attacked emigrant parties in a competition for resources, and also because some settlers had encroached on their lands. The Fort Laramie Treaty again acknowledged Lakota sovereignty over the Great Plains in exchange for free passage on the Oregon Trail for “as long as the river flows and the eagle flies”. The United States government did not enforce the treaty restriction against unauthorized settlement. Lakota and other bands attacked settlers and even emigrant trains, causing public pressure on the U.S. Army to punish the hostiles. On September 3, 1855, 700 soldiers under American General William S. Harney avenged the Grattan Massacre by attacking a Lakota village in Nebraska, killing about 100 men, women, and children. A series of short “wars” followed, and in 1862–1864, refugees from the “Dakota War of 1862” in Minnesota fled west to their allies in Montana and Dakota Territory. Increasing illegal white settlement after the American Civil War caused war once again. The Black Hills were considered sacred by the Lakota, and they objected to mining. Between 1866 and 1868 the U.S. Army fought the Lakota and their allies along the Bozeman Trail over U.S. Forts built to protect miners traveling along the trail. Oglala Chief Red Cloud led his people to victory in Red Cloud’s War. In 1868, the United States signed the 2nd Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868, exempting the Black Hills from all white settlement forever. Four years later gold was discovered there, and prospectors descended on the area. Again the land was raped, and the Lakota were scattered from their home land.
in their bedroom
high on vaping
huddled ‘round desktops
typing nonstop
in the darkness
deep in basements
corner coffee shops
on their laptops
somewhere out there
without souls
those mindless asshat
internet trolls
rob kistner © 2019
don’t pay – don’t cross
or you’ll die
warned a posted scroll
muskrat laughed then strolled ahead
next day they found bridge troll dead
smiling muskrat strolled on
rob kistner © 2019
carcasses of constituents
who foolishly were trolled
lured by the shiny lies
took the bait – were reeled in
while the foul beast of trump
slouches off with eden
marrow dripping from a smile
rob kistner © 2019
a racist and a bigot
a misogynistic louse
let’s lock him up – a fate befit
when we drive him from the White House