Category: art

Moonfall

…I might find it interesting to believe that we are not alone in this universe within universes. I believe ‘others’ are observing us, and are concerned by our behavior. Called many things through the ages, such as “travelers”, “those that are”, “angles”, among others: I believe they have been here, and perhaps some of us have been there. As adults most of us grow suspicious, skeptical, closed, and therefore unreceptive, potentially even dangerous — so these ‘others’ make their presence known only to the pure of heart, who still possess their sense of wonder. They come in dreams, visions, and apparitions.

Centuries and millenniums ago, when the world was less devastatingly violent, they visited more often. Graphic and oral evidence of their visitations are found in every culture. These ‘miraculous’ events, misunderstood by less sophisticated early humans, became the ‘seeds’ of the world’s current religions.

These ‘others’ seek to know us but they are frightened by our growing self-directed global hatred and paranoia — especially now fueled by our many technologies of death and destruction. They now consider us unapproachable. I’m not certain when or how large-scale contact will be made, but it will eventually happen — in spite of the ‘if-or-not’ of alien abduction and probing.

Inherently we humans have come to know, but not fully comprehend, the essence of this reality of impending contact. Through the distorted lense of fractured history and our fear, I believe we have, over time, come to call this ultimate contact by many names, some positive, some negative; names such as the rapture, apocalypse, end of days, armageddon, and the like. Though we perhaps misinterpret the nature of this amazing future event — contact is coming. This I might believe, if I could believe anything. In that spirit I wrote and offer this sci-fi poem…

 

 

Moonfall

•

the dual suns
still crisp and bright
warm me as I journey
painting the strange landscape in vivid presence
this alien world
startling
yet fascinating

I embarked at midday’s solar convergence
senses alive and alert
consumed by the thrill of exploration
heady with anticipation of discovery
I believed today I would make contact

I would connect

but it is day’s end
moonfall descends upon this severe terrain
early shadows fall across my face
a veiled foreboding settles upon me

there are many shadows here
other shadows
odd shadows

disturbing specters
that disrupt my nights
disquiet my soul
steal my peace
they come unannounced
almost imperceptible

but no time for worry
there is still far to go
I am eager to move
drawn by the need to reach my ship
to reach safety

yet here I stand
momentarily motionless
immobile with dread
yet captivated by the haunting beauty
that is this planet’s rising moon
a translucent blue fractal orb
ever changing
mesmerizing

I shudder and sober
turn into the evening breeze
and venture onward
immersed in rolling amber and coral
spread glorious to the horizons
of this foreign world
receding with the setting suns

again the shadows shift
dull confusion finds me
I lose my pace
draw up in momentary halt

nagging concern engulfs me
panic pierces my solace
bewilderment grips me
unwelcome
it holds me
uncomfortable in my skin

these feelings sweep over me
clouding briefly my purpose
obscuring my destination

then they waft
I see across the darkening valley
my shuttle craft
my safety

urgently I proceed
but again my mind fogs
I wander
and once more lose focus

an eerie mist settles like a shroud
moonfall is coming
coming much too quickly
moonfall
the frightening night noises
unsettling dreams

mounting alarm
I believe I am in trouble

a sense of peril gnaws
builds
paralyzing fear
fear I will not make it back
before these suns go dark

I am afraid to lose this light
afraid to loose my way

afraid
so afraid

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

 

NOTE: this was originally posted 2/25/10

…discover what others believe and don’t believe at readwritepoem…

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

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

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

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

Bit ‘O Whimsy

This piece is offered in response to prompt #70 at Carry On Tuesday.



Bit ‘O Whimsy

•

One misty moisty morning
The mist was most prevailing
And then it started storming
On that misty moisty morning

It came up without a warning
hailstones began to hailing
And I missed the morning mailing
On that misty moisty morn

Though I mostly miss the morning mail
That morn I felt mostly forlorn
I had to catch the mail that morn
But by 10 minutes I was trailing

So I began to flailing
Down the lane my feet were sailing
But the mailman was ailing
And hadn’t made his morning mail

So on that misty moisty morning
In a storm that had no warning
When I should have been emailing
My mail and me got mostly soaked

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

• painting entitled “Rain Man” by: Vane Kosturanov

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

You & Me

…I offer this piece in response to prompt #69 at Carry On Tuesday,
and prompt #18 at We Write Poems,
also the September 6th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
and the September 8th prompt at Three Word Wednesday…

You &Me

(a poetic quadratych)

•

The Secret

what I said was
don’t touch
go away
leave me be

while inside
I cried out
draw near
stay with me

you are light
you are pure
you are joy
you are free

I am not
I am dark
I am beast
can’t you see

without you
there is much
you don’t know
about me

The Revelation

I lived at the light’s edge
that pooled in the night
on the bleak back streets
of the sad brokenhearted

I hid in the anguish
of the loveless who cowered
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten

I fed on the grief
of the mourners who wailed
for their horrific loss
in the ruins of death

this was my heartscape
black as mid-winter night
a lightless horizon
no glimmer of hope

trusting was toxic
no foothold for love
relations were carnage
scattered lifeless and cold

The Change

’til a beautiful being
eyes brilliant and true
approached from afar
bearing tinder of love

the graceful arrangement
was deftly ignited
and patiently tended
the fire gently stoked

afraid to come forward
I held outside the glow
but your kindness drew me
we stood by the blaze

with passion it roared
its light pierced my blackness
its heat thawed my soul
my cold heart was warmed

The Miracle

you wrapped yourself ‘round me
gazed into my eyes
your kiss soft and serene
was the essence of healing

with you in my life
I am darkness removed
soaring and weightless
radiant and rising

vital and caring
my spirit’s renewed
illuminated wholly
by a new dawn of dreams

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

• photo above is of the GOASTT, digitally enhanced by: rob kistner 2010

For No One

…this piece is in response to prompt #17 at We Write Poems,
and prompt #69 at Carry On Tuesday,
also the September 1st prompt at Three Word Wednesday…




For No One

•

the cadence
to which I tight step
pulses
in my heart
alone

it is my coursing vital
stirs my spirit
steels my resolve
drives me on
into the fray
emboldened

“to thine own self”
resonates
the chambers
of my soul
sweet
as the song
of angels

if one is not
author
of the life
one lives
it is
plagiarized
and its essence
forged

it is my pen
scribes my epitaph

the spark
must be authentic
or the fire
arson

the flame
that burns within
is mine

do not expect
I will ignite
for you
or blaze
to your vision

you are not
my flint

do not attempt
to chart
my course
I search
my own
horizon

do not
contain me
I live
outside

do not
seek me
on the surface
I break deep
below
the negative

do not
summon me
to your queue

yours is not
my grid
or file

you are not
my piper

this
I know

I stand in line
for no one

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

• artwork by Aynaku, embellished by: rob kistner 2010

True Work

I offer this piece in response to prompt #18 at Writer’s Island.

______________

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I had this incomplete 3-year-old draft of my poem “True Work” (loosely inspired by Gary Snyder’s “Real Work”). I had wanted, for some time, to edit it into a piece, with which I would be more satisfied. The above listed prompt inspired me to create a suite of poetry, threaded together by the phrase: true work. My focus for this suite being humanity, which was the crux of the “True Work” draft I already had. The digital rendering I created of the hand holding the world helped me finish my vision of this poetry suite.

______________

“empty your love into the world”
“the true work is never done”

 

True Work

____
I bend my back and squat
then straighten at the waist
hunkered ‘neath the weight
I lift clean the load
the warehouseman’s refrain
always on my mind
“back straight
lift with the legs”

the first test – no result
I try a second
then a third
on and on
day after day
long hours in the lab
the formula must be perfect
only perfect will save lives

drywall must be flush
and plumb
also square and seamless
meticulously
I set each sheet
with the level and the bob
then pause
to wipe my sweating brow

I curse the clay
do battle with fatigue
I coax my muse
to commit to form
the first draft of my vision
to then modify
and remold
until the ultimate creation

these are elements of the work I do
or did
or may yet do
and I am you
and you are me
and we are all together
in this endeavor of our daily life

but this is not our true work

to bend to lift someone in need
to help carry their burden
until they again stand steady

to seek the components of peace
to formulate the dialog
that fosters understanding

to measure well tolerance
to stand squarely flush
with truth and level justice

to visualize universal love
to create the enduring model
for a free and vital world

this — is our true work

so little done
so much to do

* * *

 

If Only
____

stressed beyond limits

earth’s fragile balance falters

but this can be changed

her future is in our hands

if only we do true work

* * *

 

Endeavor
____

abstain from false pride

prayer does not a halo make

that requires true work

____

rob kistner © 2010

 

* photorendering above entitled “In Our Hands”
by: rob kistner © 2010

Old Man’s Prayer

…this piece is in response to the 16th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island,
and visual prompt Mag 27 at Magpie Tales (see image at bottom),
also offered for prompt 129 at One Single Impression,
and for prompt 228 at Sunday Scribblings….




Old Man’s Prayer

•

successful as a younger man
the grind became my home
and I a conduit of worry
could I keep the crazy pace

years spun wild as a top
around faster ever faster
life layering its patina
etched deeply in my face

suddenly no longer young
now looking back from 63
I’ve known triumph I’ve known tragedy
they’ve marked me both the same

I’ve borrowed bought and sold
strayed through several shades of grey
but have I leveraged my soul
just to play the fleeting game

I pray I will not be an old man
gazing lonely out my window
trying to remember
exactly how long it has rained

not sitting silent by the fire
lost in contemplation
wondering if all I lost
was worth what it was I gained

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

• photo of top from the movie Inception

_________________



Mag 27

Machine Mind

This post is offered in response to prompt #14 at We Write Poems,
the August 9th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
the August 11th prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
and prompt #65 at Carry On Tuesday.




“…scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could,
they didn’t stop to think if they should…”
Dr. Ian Malcolm


Machine Mind

•

you wink awake at morning’s light
beckoning me to focused task
prompting me of promise

you collaborate
in my keeping touch
in work dispatched
in thoughts transcribed
in matters pure creative

you are my portal into virtual space
to probe mysteries
the vast unknown

the tool I wield
to unearth facts
dig the dirt
to search for truth

tightly spun
within the web
you tend my life
make all cogs turn

my instrument of whim
device of my distraction
are you my submissive
or master of my will

when you’ve surpassed my vision
will you serve me still

have I the power to shut you down
turn my back
walk away

to truly let you keep

in the deep subconscious
does your machine mind
really sleep

• • •

TechReGret

(a lighthearted tanka)

•

my laptop’s frozen

and my cell phone’s out of range

it’s at these times when

I think how life used to be

hand-written letters have soul

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

_________________________

• photorendered collage entitled: “Machine Mind” – by: rob kistner © 2010

IN CLOSING: We live a in a world immersed, if not drowning, in technology. The idealistic and naive early vision was to create technology to serve us, make life easier, less complicated – but the joke is on us. We now serve the technology, and life is more complicated — traveling at a pace we struggle to keep up with. We’ve leveraged our peace of mind in the misguided pursuit of leisure. Is there a remedy? If we do not open a global dialog focused at finding ‘balance’, the situation will, I believe, resolve itself – and the world will not like, and may not survive, the ultimate solution.

As James Martin, one of our great modern thinkers and author of the “The Meaning of the 21st Century” points out in his most optimistic and uplifting book, man stands on the threshold of either the greatest era in human history, or the end of life as we know it – the outcome rests in our hands.

I wrote an essay back in 2007 which deals with humankind’s strange relationship with the technology we’ve created. You can click here if you would like to read it. …rob

Elton The Elf

…I wrote this in response to the spirit of the July 26th prompt at Big Tent Poetry…


Elton The Elf

•

an angel-eyed velvet-clad curious elf
was sitting alone on a leaf by himself
quite lost and he didn’t see anyone else
he was scared and he hid and he tried to be stealth

“I wish I was home like a good little elf
‘cause I left my big glasses on my bedroom shelf
and this is no a place for a song-writing elf
these damp woods are not very good for my health”

his mother warned “Elton, you’re a wee little elf,
don’t go wandering off in the woods by yourself
take Bernie along, and your cell phone as well,
dear son please consider your fame and your wealth!”

but wee little Elton was a quite stubborn elf
tired of playing piano in his room by himself
bored with being a world famous rock ‘n roll elf
with gold records – Don’t Go Breaking My Heart was his 12th

you know it really is hard being a curious elf
curiosity is why he’d snuck off by himself
now he’s lost and can’t find his way home without help
sometimes its dangerous being sneaky and stealth

could this be the end for sweet Elton the elf

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Always Options

…in response to the 10th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island, I offer a perspective on perspective…




Always Options

•

he came upon divergent ways
that stretched beyond the road he’d trod

he would go forth this was his mind
but had no notion which way that was

the pathway left was sparse with step
the roadway right was traveled plenty

leaning low to great extreme
he examined close the evidence

it came clear that those who journeyed left
were light of weight with timid step

while those who traveled onward right
wore finest boot of heavy heel

he thought on this for quite some time
until at last he knew for sure

he started neither left nor right
but instead went straight ahead

he hacked and carved and blazed a trail
into the new for those who’d follow

wise in life possessed of logic
he realized to where he’d come

the threshold of a new frontier
too raw for the sated too brute for the weak

those that would survive and prosper
would be among the enlightened bold

it would be those who’d choose this trail
full of promise made by his hand

with spirit full and muscled zest
he whacked and chopped and cleared the way

for those who’d come who were empowered
to seize possibility — a bright new world

• • •

(haiku)

•

trail forked this spring morne
white-tails chose the woods instead
always more options

• • •

rob kistner © 2010



• dedicated to the visionaries who see beyond •