Category: joy

Golden Lady

 

Golden Lady

•

golden lady in sensuous silk
a beauty sure to mesmerize
sculpted by a master’s hand
so seductive as to scandalize

a stare of comely crystal blue
floats above a ruby pout
spellbound by her magic eyes
she holds your soul with no way out

her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
like a supple paintbrush flowing
her smile will fire and hypnotize
then wrap around you knowing

you are now her helpless captive
quite hopelessly addicted
in the velvet grip of this smoldering waif
is she an angel — or is she wicked

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

____________

image by Bert Stern

Bliss

 

Bliss

•

let us dare
sweet lust’s advance
to intertwine
in love’s enhance

I burn to offer
love’s special kiss
to fire your soul
in passion’s bliss

to enfold you deep
in nocturne’s hour
to taste the nectar
of your tender flower

you are the dream
that I adore
my one desire
to love you more

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Two Moments

These are two poems about two powerful and indelible life-moments I shared with my son Justin.

The first “Night Sky” is about the courageous moment he chose, at age fourteen, to leave his mother’s home to move across our country, to live with me in Oregon — through the years of his high school and college graduations, and his early career. This was an incredible gift he gave me.

The second, “Book of Days”, is about the moment, two days ago, when he and his wife Christine, moved from Oregon to pursue a career advancement — a deeply bittersweet moment for me.

 

Night Sky

•

you arrived in spring
asking why I’d left

I had no good response
but the other shoe had fallen
with a deafening thud
so what was I to do

you looked startled by life
and asked me about sorrow

I had no good response
so I took you in
and watched as you untangled truth
marveling at your balance

for 19 years
together we watched the night sky
and wondered about love

• • •

rob kistner © 2011


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

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

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

Spared


 
Spared

~

how I do desire
the damp dreary days
of february

when my forlorned
fallen face
is commonplace

when no one intrudes
to question
what’s the matter

because all around
are caught up in the blues

oh if only
you could find it
in your heart

to forgive
this sadly lost
and broken man

who much too late
understands
he was a fool

and in his sorrow
understands
why you refuse

but how I wish
ill-tempered weather
would ensue

to drive the joyful
all around me
to indoor spaces

so I’d be spared
the pain
of smiling faces

and the bitter
bitter memory
of losing you

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2011

  • Image above entitled “Red Umbrella” by: Christopher Shay
  • This was originally linked to Tess Kincaid’s “Magpie Tales”

    ______________________

    How Poetry Comes to Me

    by: Gary Snyder

    It comes blundering over the
    Boulders at night, it stays
    Frightened outside the
    Range of my campfire
    I go to meet it at the
    Edge of the light

    • 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

    Burst

    …written for Day #13, NaPoMo 2011…


     

    Burst

    •

    sky pulls with spring rain
    sprouting seeds push seeking light
    sun stirs petal’s blush

    engorged buds burst to unfurl
    nature reaches tipping point

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4/13/11

    Skye Fyre

    …written for Day #12, NaPoMo 2011…

     

    Skye Fyre

    ~

    the grand sunset gun
    hunter readies his grip
    as the great golden orb
    returns weary from his trip

    quicksilver moon
    embarks on her night’s course
    hunter fixes sharp eyes
    steady on the source

    gaia reaches gently
    into vast quiet space
    diamonds of stars
    gaia sparkles in place

    hunter locks the horizon
    solid in his sight
    his important grand task
    still remains on this night

    to set the late sky ablaze
    before he goes to sleep
    in patterns most bold
    in colors quite deep

    he aims his sunset gun
    and blasts overhead
    a riot of corals
    ambers oranges and red

    with a grand brilliant flash
    the heavens are afire
    in rich vivid hues
    burning hot with desire

    this dusk color festival
    has fully begun
    so hunter retires
    his job is well done
    but he first locks away
    his grand sunset gun

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 4/12/11

    Had Not

    …written for Day #9, NaPoMo 2011…


    Had Not

    •

    had not she crossed my threshold
    on that september day

    had not her voice
    drifted like silk on a summer breeze
    to wrap sheer and sweet
    around my heart

    had not I been drawn
    like a bloom to the morning sun

    had not I been captivated
    as a hummingbird
    by a drop of nectar
    crystal on a velvet petal

    had not my love come down
    soft as a rolling mountain meadow

    had not this dream been born

    had not my life begun again

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Deep Indigo

    …written for Day #7, NaPoMo 2011…


    Deep Indigo

    •

    he wakes
    unbidden by alarm
    lingers in the darkness
    warm neath the blankets

    fumbling for the lamp
    follows moments of procrastination
    before he lifts himself upright
    slides feet into slippers
    to rise ever so stiffly
    from the comfort of bed

    pulling on his robe
    he ambles to the kitchen
    takes a cup from the shelf
    pours chamomile tea
    brewed ready each morning
    by the wonders of technology

    he retreats to his office
    to his chair
    where it waits
    welcoming
    in a pool of soft light
    buffered against the chill
    of pre-dawn dark

    he sits
    sips steeped motivation
    quietly peeling away fog
    that layers his mind
    residue of another fitful night

    he is somber
    but pleased to be awake
    to be alive
    grateful for the peace
    and the quiet of early morning
    fleeting though it is

    his thoughts
    begin to un-blend
    to gather
    in a cohesive palette
    stirring his notice

    slowly they sort
    in colors of mood

    melancholy greys
    fear’s dark ebony
    purples of pain and anger
    the violet of regret
    sorrowful blues
    gentle peaceful greens
    golden joy
    laughter’s bright amber
    love’s ruby red
    the scarlet of passion

    this morning
    reflections on his mortality
    newly threatened
    shoulder in coldly
    crowding his reverie

    pondering his plight
    cursing fate
    he struggles
    neath the weight of uncertainty

    a riot of emotions
    overcome him
    he seeks clarity

    he reaches for his laptop
    his tool of resolution
    his canvass of language

    in the spreading saffrons
    and corals of dawn
    he begins painting deep indigo

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Ship of Dreams

    …I have always loved the fantasy art of Dean Morrissey and James C. Christensen, and this week’s prompt at Writer’s Island put me in mind of their highly imaginative and captivating work, which in turn inspired the poem below, with its “tongue-in-cheek” ending…

     

    Ship of Dreams

    •

    fantastic is this spell I’m under
    magic of a splendorous kind
    a world of cornucopic wonder
    treasure troves of dreams to plunder
    in this kingdom of my mind

    here I live a life enchanted
    here no fear of any threat
    sorrow is by joy supplanted
    no limit to desires granted
    what I want is what I get

    fantasy’s elaboration
    a god of pleasure I ascend
    soar in sweet hallucination
    in ships of my imagination
    oh, would this dream but never end

    Epilogue

    well now, oh dear, that was a bit much
    somewhat carried away it seems
    euphoria finds me out of touch
    with reality, good sense, and such
    perhaps I’ll temper my daydreams

    throttle back my vision quest
    bring fascinations down to size
    moderation will serve me best
    but dreams are so hard to repress
    no limits when you fantasize

    • • •

    rob kistner © 3/26/11

    • written for Writer’s Island

    • art piece at top by Dean Morrissey

    ________________________

    …below is a sample of the fantasy art of James C. Christensen…

    Limitless

    …limitless talent, unfathomable spirit…

    Limitless

    •

    • written for Writer’s Island

    Equinox

     

    Equinox

    •

    winter’s journey ends
    lengthening light bears witness
    spring crests and breaks
    here at the equinox

    life bursts forth
    poking through pliant soil
    unfurling on barren branch
    here at the equinox

    nature stirs in song and call
    celebrating new birth
    sustaining the cycle
    here at the equinox

    my heart leaps
    my spirit dances
    to this rhythm of renewal
    here at the equinox

    • • •

    rob kistner © 3/20/11