NaPoWriMo #21

This is my twenty-first post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one short prose

• one tanka

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• inspired by Kristen McHenry’s prompt at read write poem

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As I age, my imperfections begin to manifest themselves more and more. I once was young, and handsome, and strong – but that all is waning, and I sometimes feel despair. But the irony here is that, in seeing and feeling more and more acutely, my imperfections, it also eventually shines a light on how fortunate I have been in my life – and the despair often shifts to tearful gratitude… even joy! That is what this poem is about.

 

Chill Winds

•

chill winds of time
rise in dissonance
seasons of cold rain
hiss and tick
my weathered panes

life’s essence
slowly slips my being’s grip
it’s warmth
ever-fading

the pall and ache
wrap firm my bones
suppress my spirit
slowly steal my living core

I despair of rigid form
drained of vital sap
drawn and withered
robbed of flex and grace

my light of memory dims
my pool of knowledge clouds

dear and beloved go
one by one
beyond my call
beyond the joy and chaos
of this temporal plane

what remains is sorrowed pain
and sinking will

then you call my name
beckon me to your embrace
to sooth and comfort my discontent
to draw me into your love

I see again that life’s been good
that we are blessed to have known all this
and in that moment

joy

• • •

 

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Above It All

•

I want to live in a treehouse
way up high in the branches
of a big redwood

several observation platforms
at different levels
as you hand-wench yourself
into the forest canopy

* optional motorized system

a three-story treehouse
huge wrap around porches
at each level

the top level
one big open room

a place I could write
work on my art

where my wife kathy
could have her fiberart studio
her big toika loom
several navajo hand looms
assembly tables
all her “found” stuff
so key to her abstract soft-sculptures

the roof
one big deck

being able to see
far as the eye could see
so very liberating
exhilarating

riding out big storms
like flying
but anchored
secure

our treehouse
would be made of
anodized aluminum
stone
leathers
and wood
many woods
teak, cedar, oak, maple, and walnut
lots of tempered crystal-clear acrylic

I’d hand feed the eagles
the hawks, the osprey
certainly in my mind

I’d run guywires
slide lines
between tree tops

we could soar
through the sun-dappled canopy

a place high up
where I could work, live, dance, laugh
in the nude
if I wanted

and make love to my wife
windows wide open
the sun and breeze
free to come and go

no comments from
or concerns of
neighbors

where I could crank up my jazz

I want to live in a treehouse
in our treehouse
and truly be
what I’m often accused of being

removed
above it all

• • •

 

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Jumping

•

hunched down leaned forward

rising with knees soundly gripped

jumping big horses

clearing hurdles one by one

keep him reined but let him run

• • •


• poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

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…check out the other splendid imperfections at readwritepoem

12 thoughts on “NaPoWriMo #21”

  1. You put me off growing any older, and I certainly don’t want to do it alone!
    That 2nd tree house sounds a little out of my price-range – even the first one.
    I’d like to say ‘flawless’ but I spotted that deliberate ‘T’ in hurDles… 😉

  2. Your imperfections are my imperfections; your desires are my desires.
    So much so that it’s uncanny!

  3. I keep telling Stan, I need a proofreader — like you… 😉
    My spell-check simply does not always have my back, not like you my friend.
    thanks…
    …rob

  4. “I want to live in a treehouse
    in our treehouse
    and truly be
    what I’m often accused of being”

    Yes. And again, yes!

  5. There must be something in male chromosomes that awakens in the years between fifty and sixty creating a desire to wander through their “treehouses” nude and “make love to their wives with “the windows wide open.” My husband dreams those same dreams, Rob!

    Blessings on your day!

  6. Hi bridgeanna –

    Its because the love of a good person, like you and my wife sets us free — and we want to celebrate in the midst of the natural world unencumbered… 😉

  7. nice one again Rob… ya it all heppens after 60…dam these seventies are pretty dam good too…thanks again for your wonderful writing

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