Love’s Summer Serenade / Seaside

These first written & published for NaPoWriMo 2010

 
Love’s Summer Serenade

sing to me my sweet sweet lover
songs as soft as silk and satin
sensual as a bare embrace
warm summer sun upon our face

promise me the world is ours
that this perfect moment’s endless
lift me up on rapture’s cloud
my racing heart is pounding loud

make melody set sail our souls
fill our hearts with passion’s fire
smother me in scorched sweet kisses
oh what a fiery bliss this is

come to me and take me timeless
sweep me off to ecstasy
enfold me in your deepest dreams
simmering under summer moonbeams

so hot we’re looking for some shade
aflame in love’s sensual serenade

*

 
Seaside

soft sand warms bare toes

senses stirred by surging surf

summer at seaside

love as fresh as ocean breeze

kisses hot as sizz’ling sun

*
rob kistner © 2010
revised © 2023

More poetry at: dVerse

 




Time’s Window

“This is the 4th anniversary of my wife Kathleen and I moving to Seattle to be with our grandson Alex. I posted this new piece containing mindful reflections on leaving our home in Oregon, and our new Seattle home. The photos are of our Oregon yard in the Cascade Mountain foothills. That is my wife Kathy standing under, and peering up into our 2 giant banana palms. The poem is just below the photos.“

96A0D5B9-69EF-49DB-BE33-C1347DFE7938

E280E402-14C8-4DF8-BE06-05995B79BDD1

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Time’s Window
~


we now have a wonderful
new Seattle home
shared with family
ruled by my little guy
my precious 6-year-old grandson
and I know sweet happiness

but there are moments
with eyes closed
I can gaze back
through time’s window

I see my beloved Oregon home
of 25 amazing years
vividly alive this morning
here in my memories…

through my window this day
I see the scurry of creatures
warmed by the Oregon summer

I hear nature
in splendid voice

the chuff
of a tree’d red squirrel

the song
chirp
and trill of birds

chickadee
goldfinch
western bluebird
and others

fly
flutter
and flit

in a flash of orange
a striking northern flicker
momentarily eschewing insects
is peck peck pecking
cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
that spill from our feeder

a red-tailed hawk
calls
from atop a Sitka spruce
swaying
in the crisp blue sky

the muffled belling of a deer
wandering the safety of old-growth
whispers
through the foothills

the distant bark
of a neighbor’s dog
echoing the basin
up along our stream
reminds me
we have friends nearby

my wife’s
gentle laughter
validates the friendship

her tender smile
validates our love

the rustle of leaves
stirred by the breeze
wafting through the valley

smartly punctuated
by the staccato
of conifer cones
that fall
from time to time
wrested free by chickaree
and chipmunk
chattering high in Douglas fir
busy with their forage

wap wap wap

they bounce off our roof
striking the ground

closely followed
by the scamper
of their liberators
crunching their way
to the heart-meat of the cone
the delicacy
that elicits this furious industry

drifting in the window
intoxicating fragrances

cedar
pine
fir

lily
rose
lilac

grasses
loam
and more

a rich
earthy bouquet

caught in my reverie
I breathe in
deeply
to suddenly remember

…I’m not in my Oregon home
I am in my new Seattle home
and it’s filled to overflowing
with family
and love

for a moment
I do not open my eyes
I linger a bit longer
in my beautiful dream
of my Oregon

my heart will forever be there
but we will likely never go back
not until my ashes are spread
high in the Cascade Mountains
on Mt. Hood
across breathtaking Lost Lake

but here
now
on this day
filled with memories
and joy
a solitary tear
falls

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2019


 
This new write was a remarkably mind purifying write for me. Click to see how others are purifying their minds on dVerse:
Poetics- Purifying the Mind

 

  • Click to check out the haps at Toads
  • NaPoWriMo #29

    This is my Twenty-ninth, and penultimate post for National Poetry Month 2010

    ____________________________________

    …this poem was inspired by D.S. Apfelbaum’s day 29 post at readwritepoem…

    ____________________________________

     

    Space Is

    •

    a lightless void of soundless vacuum
    spinning masses of revolving orbs
    hurtling fragments in crystalline vapors

    molten cores
    mingled gasses
    dead husks
    black holes

    magnetic icefalls
    plasma rain
    liquid lightening
    solid clouds

    attractions and repulsions
    of precarious fragility

    a frozen dance of chaos
    on the tentative edge of balance

    unfounded fear
    unquenchable wonder
    unrealized dreams
    ultimate frontier

    relativity’s fabric
    tangled in the cloth of time

    reality’s illusion
    set in fantasy’s foundation

    ceaseless hope
    endless adventure
    unexpected catastrophe
    boundless courage

    humankind’s triumph and sad folly
    the seductive promise of the future

    our salvation
    infinity’s threshold
    the eternal question
    the elusive answer

    the everlasting bastion
    of never-ending truth

    a longing call
    a constant listening
    a driving force
    a reason why

    fountainhead of myths
    spark of religions
    and other superstitions
    home of the gods

    magnificent obscurity
    a source of mystery
    font of knowledge
    cause of fiction

    the unknown of the unknowable
    nothingness absolute

    the billions and the billions
    ever expanding everything

    …space is

    • • •



    rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    artwork entitled “Infinity’s Door” by: rob kistner © 1998

    ____________________________________

    …see what offerings are this day at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #28 – part 2:

    This is part 2 of my twenty-eighth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one ecstatic poem


    ____________________________________

    …this first poem was inspired by Julie Jordan Scott’s day 28 at readwritepoem
    the second is an edited rewrite of a poem I wrote a couple of years ago that I wanted to share…

    ____________________________________


    In following Julie’s suggestion that we let intuition guide us to a theme, a subject, essentially to the “prompt” for this poem for day 28 of NaPoWriMo 2010 — what presented itself to me several times was a question. Why do I write poetry? The answer that surfaced — for my personal solace, my peace of mind, for my sanity. Thus came forth the prompt for this day.

     

    Sanity

    •

    in the sorrowing hours
    at full depth of night

    alone with my thoughts
    my terrors
    my dreams

    sculpting words into wedges
    that pry open my psyche

    expose raw emotion

    lay bare my soul

    that I might glimpse who really I am
    and be certain still that I feel

    here is my sanity

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________

     

    ∞

    •

    step gently through the dream-gate

    take hold the strand continuum

    ride the light that carries you

    to the is, was, the will be

    transcendence moment

    when the all is one

    in the perfection

    of pure being

    here now

    alive

    ∞

    •


    • poem and ecstatic by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …see what else was intuited this day at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #28

    This is my twenty-eighth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by day 28 of National Poetry Month

    ____________________________________


     

    Not Spring

    •

    the moment of not-spring
    has no bold herald
    save a passing notation
    on one’s calendar

    easily missed

    there is not a disruption
    in the earth’s crust

    there is no disturbance
    in the air

    the planets
    do not misalign

    the moment of not-spring
    is a non-moment
    as can be the moment of not-love

    it can pass by unnoticed
    no disruption
    no disturbance

    but the realization
    of not-love
    is a storm
    more fierce
    than even the worst
    of spring’s fury

    it can break the earth
    wide open

    leave one gasping
    for the next breath

    as all the stars
    fall from heaven

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________

     

    Sweet Recall

    •

    fresh-placed flower scent

    feel of soft grass under knee

    memories still grip

    more and more are sweet recall

    hard tears turning to soft smiles

    • • •


    • poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out the offerings at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #27

    This is my twenty-seventh post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one acrostic
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Carolee Sherwood ‘s day 27 prompt at read write poem to write an acrostic

    ____________________________________


     

    Evolution

    •

    Even in chaos nature finds balance.

    Violent floods beget fertile fields.

    One thing ends, another begins.

    Life is a cycle of birth and death.

    Untamed wildfire creates forest ash.

    The ashen remains nurture growth again.

    In the caterpillar lives the butterfly.

    One thing ends, another begins.

    Now and forever, the mandella spins.

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Stone Fox First

    •

    garage sound check great

    groupies at the ludlow door

    allmans soon to start

    damned duane is still m-i-a

    we stone fox boys are ready

    • • •


    • acrostic and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out who’s gettin’ acrostic at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #26 – Power / Alternatives

    This is my twenty-sixth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Jill Crammond Wickham’s day 26 prompt at read write poem

    ____________________________________


     

    Power

    •

    let us speak of power

    the writer’s words
    the artist’s eye
    the craftsman’s hands
    the singer’s voice
    the player’s soul
    the actor’s courage

    all who rise up in creativity
    to share their gift

    who elevate our humanness
    shun our negative self

    who share their spirit to inspire

    who see great possibility
    in the face of great challenge

    who will not succumb
    but prevail
    as a kindled flame
    to light our darkness

    theirs is the power
    they are the powerful
    for they empower

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Alternatives

    •

    three hundred miles gone

    we’re just above dream canyon

    big storm front building

    cycles won’t make the snow pass

    guess we point our two wheels south

    • • •


    • poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out the other offerings at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #25 – part 3: The Circle Game

    This is part 3 of my twenty fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010

    …this poem was inspired by the April 25th prompt at Poetic Asides — write a poem inspired by a song…

    ____________________________________

    In considering today’s Day 25 prompt by Robert Lee Brewer at Poetic Aides, I was drawn to the taxing journey that is NaPoWriMo every year — which caused me to reflect on the larger journey that is life itself. The journey we all take, different though they may be.

    Such a long way I’ve come on this road of life. The distant horizon intersects the vanishing point of my past. Yet still, my life stretches far back over that horizon, into the fog of memory — past vanishing point upon vanishing point. So great is the distance, that recollection staggers me.

    The miles I’ve traveled, the experiences I’ve gathered, the people I’ve known — these are a part of me. Likewise, the joy, laughter, pain, tears — the fear, courage, the battles won and lost, the scars… these are all fibers of my being. As is the love, hate, compassion, exhilaration, desperation, wonder, the discovery — through the days, weeks, months, though the seasons, the years.

    So many lifetimes I’ve consumed, so many different people I have been. Each unique and precious, even the most painful — for they are my collective self. All has knitted together, folding and building upon itself, to create this journey that is me. I am defined by my journey, and by my journey, I am known to others — this man of 63, still seeking enlightenment and actualization.

    Robert has inspired me to share a poem by Joni Mitchell, to which I have added a poem in the form of three verses. I made a draft attempt to do this 3 years ago but abandoned the project. Now I am motivated to complete the endeavor.

    My poem will appear italicized and in a different font color, blended into the body of Joni’s poem. Joni put her poem to music. Entitled the “The Circle Game”, it first appeared in April of 1970, on her “Ladies of the Canyon” album. I have always been drawn to the magic of these words. I find it a brilliant reflection on the journey of life.

    Joni is one of the finest female poets of our time, a fact sadly often overlooked, because of her great success in music. She is also an exceptional artist. Click here if you would like to go to her site and “discover” this brilliant, and still active, creative soul.

    I’ve done my best not to spoil the power of what was originally written. Here is Joni Mitchell’s beautiful “The Circle Game”, begging your indulgence of my humble additions.


     

    The Circle Game

    •

    yesterday a child came out to wonder
    caught a dragonfly inside a jar
    fearful when the sky was full of thunder
    and tearful at the falling of a star

    then the child moved ten times round the seasons
    skated over ten clear frozen streams
    words like, when you’re older, must appease him
    and promises of someday make his dreams

    sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
    cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
    they tell him, take your time, it wont be long now
    till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

    so the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
    though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
    there’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
    before the last revolving year is through

    and the seasons they go round and round
    and the painted ponies go up and down
    we’re captive on the carousel of time
    we can’t return, we can only look behind
    from where we came
    and go round and round and round
    in the circle game

    the hands of time swing round faster and faster
    life begins to carve his journey in this man’s face
    a successful man with riches, but he wonders
    how long past 40 can he keep this pace

    suddenly he’s looking back at 60
    he’s known tragedy and triumph both the same
    he’s borrowed bought and sold his way to power
    he’s leveraged his soul to play the game

    now an old man gazing out his window
    trying to remember how long it’s rained
    he sits alone here by the fire in contemplation
    was all he lost worth what it was he gained

    and the seasons they go round and round
    and the tides of fate they go up and down
    we’re captive in the ebb and flow of time
    we can’t return, we can only look behind
    from where we came
    as we take our final turn
    in the circle game

    • • •



    copyright © Siquomb Publishing Company
    additional verses by: rob kistner © 2010


    ____________________________________


    …photo of Joni Mitchell from her website, Joni Mitchell.com

    NaPoWriMo #25 – part 2: Fissures

    This is part 2 of my twenty fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010

    …this piece that follows was inspired by prompt #113 at One Single Impression

    ____________________________________


     

    Fissures

    •

    life is generous
    with the good and bad
    countless experiences
    joyous and sad

    it would appear
    you’ve had your share
    you’ve garnered wisdom
    learned how to care

    you have known joy
    you’ve tasted pain
    stricken with sorrow
    but smiled again

    there have been hardships
    and there’s been blessings
    helpless frustrations
    moments of guessing

    tears cried for others
    fears of your own
    you’ve not always reaped
    what it is you’ve sown

    you’ve been envied
    but you’ve been loved
    you’ve helped pull through
    been rudely shoved

    rightly praised
    and wrongly treated
    momentarily dazed
    but not defeated

    you’ve been criticized
    words harshly spoken
    you’ve been knocked
    but never broken

    through it all
    you have persisted
    you have endured
    and you’ve resisted

    the easy temptation
    to harbor hate
    never blaming others
    for what is your fate

    you’ve steered clear fissures
    not fallen in cracks
    kept moving forward
    not looking back

    now your facial fissures
    those knowledge tracks
    display those proudly
    when you smile back

    you’ve been a good man
    since your youth
    time is witness
    to this truth

    the testimony
    shines with grace
    it’s etched indelibly
    in your face

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    …photograph by: Mehmet Akin

    NaPoWriMo #25

    This is my twenty-fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Joseph Harker’s day 25 prompt at read write poem

    ____________________________________

     

    Hotaslava

    •

    I will not forget you

    memory still burns
    tearful recollection of the first time
    my eyes beheld your luscious curves

    skin smooth as satin
    golden as you lay before me
    seductive in the summer sun

    you fired my imagination
    ignited my soul

    I wanted you so badly
    my lips trembled
    you promised such sweetness

    but I’d been warned by others
    who had dared indulge your fiery charms
    that it would end in tears

    I did not heed their counsel

    seduced
    I fell upon you hungrily
    taking you in passion’s flames
    hot as lava
    scorching as an august sun

    swept away
    I consumed your charms
    an inferno of desire

    tasting your forbidden fruit
    in a wanton blaze I took my fill

    but just as quick it ended

    I should have listened
    they knew you all too well

    you burned me badly
    and left me crying

    but I never will forget you…

    …habanero

    • • •



    ____________________________________

     

    Coldasice

    •

    drips pizzicato

    crescendo of icicles

    north wind’s cadenza

    wintertime’s crisp symphony

    played on nature’s outdoor stage

    • • •


    • poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out the other spontaneity at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #24 – part 3: Evensong

    This is part 3 of my twenty fourth post for National Poetry Month 2010

    …this poem was inspired by the April 24th prompt at Poetic Asides — write an evening poem…

    ____________________________________


     

    Evensong

    •

    as dusk descends upon this place
    my stride holds smooth and steady
    with grace and heady expectation
    the downing sun a gentle gold embrace

    early shadows fall soft across my face
    as vesper’s velvet blanket
    drapes its comfort ’round my shoulders
    splendid calm envelops me

    there is still some road to travel
    I am eager to keep the journey
    drawn by the beauty
    that is the rising moon in sunset

    facing into the evening breeze
    I venture onward toward my love
    rolling amber fires the lane
    spreads warm ‘cross the horizon

    a fog begins to rise and waft
    I see nestled in the valley
    my blessed hearth & home
    veiled copper in eventide

    my heart rises in the moment
    caught up in this gorgeous vale
    the ribbon of its brook entwines
    wraps my soul in evensong

    my smile sweetens
    my pace livens
    I hum a quiet melody
    the wonder of another day

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    …artwork entitled “Evening Glory” by: Steven Mitchell

    NaPoWriMo #24 – part 2: His Cane

    This is part 2 of my twenty fourth post for National Poetry Month 2010

    …this piece that follows was inspired by the April 23rd prompt at Magpie Tales

    ____________________________________


     

    His Cane

    •

    he is a stern man
    she knows it
    she finds him irresistible

    she loves his stern face
    his stern smile
    his stern voice

    she knows him
    like no other
    she has seen through
    the part in the curtain

    she knows the taste of his kiss
    the twinkle in his stern eyes
    she adores the touch
    of his strong stern hands

    warm sure hands

    so too
    she loves his cane

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    ____________________________________

    Come on Carey get out your cane
    I’ll put on some silver
    Oh you’re a mean old Daddy
    But I like you

    •
    …lyrics from “Carey”
    by: Joni Mitchel 1971
    ____________________________________


    NaPoWriMo #24 – In Vain / Daddy’s Girl

    This is my twenty-fourth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • This poem that follows is inspired by Marie Gauthier’s NaPoWriMo day 23 prompt at readwritepoem to find and use a colloquial phrase — and by the current frustration I am feeling trying to deliver on my promise of at least 1 poem a day for 30 days. This day I am blank – my muse is being quite difficult. So for inspiration I looked to a poem I’d written 3 years back about just such a situation of writer’s block. I wrote this new poem from those 3-year-old bones, sparked additionally by Robert Lee Brewer’s NaPoWriMo day 23 prompt at Poetic Asides: exhaustion.

    ____________________________________


     

    In Vain

    •

    the virginal glare
    of the backlit void
    taunts me

    the tiny pulsing cursor
    throbs like a migraine
    in the blank white field

    untouched
    ignored
    impatient

    no burden of remorse
    no weight of mystery
    does it bear

    no sting of anger
    no wink of mirth
    to reflect

    nothing sensual
    or sensitive
    to share

    no coin of phrase to save

    just empty screen
    tormenting nothingness
    30 in 30
    pressing down

    dissonance spills through my open window

    the scatter of rain
    stir of wind
    rustle of wet leaves

    muffled keens
    bursts of barks
    distant yelps

    the edgy din
    of dripping
    prowling
    april night
    intrudes in damp insistence
    to fill my head
    and leave not one small space
    for wit
    or insight

    all in vain

    there is no spark

    in this soggy midnight
    left high and dry
    no muse in sight
    only exhaustion

    nothing clever
    or profound
    in the air this night

    chilled
    slack

    uninspired

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Daddy’s Girl

    •

    shy knock at front door

    lovely daughter descends stairs

    who is this brash boy

    shake his hand or run him off

    daddy’s decision is tough

    • • •


    • poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010


    ____________________________________


    …see what other coin of phrase you might find at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #23 – Skyward Suite / Midnight Gliding

    This is my twenty-third post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one three-poem suite

    • one tanka

    ____________________________________

    • the first poem is inspired by Sage Cohen’s day 23 prompt at read write poem

    ____________________________________




    Spread Offense

    •

    …making PB&J, as a wrestling match…


    it appears everything is ready
    for a great competition today

    this has been the moment
    we’ve anticipated
    since the TV was paused
    some 5 to 6 minutes ago

    the first jar has made its appearance
    I see the knife on the sideline
    and the napkins indicate
    they are ready
    standing by
    in case of accident

    hands baxter signals
    he’s ready

    looks like tonight it will be wood
    yes
    it is
    the wood cutting board for this one
    and it seems to be
    it is
    recycled material
    well done

    hands is reaching across the table now
    grabbing hold of the plastic flap
    he’s got a solid grip on the bread
    with a swift and practiced maneuver
    he wrestles two pieces to their backs
    firmly on the board

    he now grabs the jar by the lid
    raises it to his chest
    and
    and
    he’s struggling
    can’t seem to…
    no wait
    hands has done it
    the lid is free of the jar

    he now has the knife in his right hand
    and with deep probing jabs
    he’s bringing blade full
    after blade full
    with deft swirling motions
    from the jar
    and spreading it layer after layer
    on the helpless bread
    unable to budge from the board

    we just got a report
    that the bread is indeed
    honey oat nut
    these are all first string players in this one

    well
    it appears hands has won the first
    of what will be three contests
    he has successfully achieved P and B tonight
    and with great flair

    no drops
    goops
    no tears

    masterfully done

    there was that incident
    with the tongue on the flat of the blade
    but it was apparently a clean move
    so no penalty assessed

    we’re out of time for now
    we will have to wait until next time
    to see if grape
    the big jar
    makes it into the match
    as hands baxter will be going for J
    in the next round

    if he can make it that far
    then the big finale will be milk
    so don’t miss that one

    this is voice gruffly signing off
    inviting you to stay with us
    through this PB&J regional series
    to see if baxter builds a big one

    that’s all from here

    • • •


    ____________________________________


    Skyward Suite




    I Am Balloon

    •

    I will see the earth today
    as the heated air
    fills my billows
    I am aloft
    in free floating flight
    to abandon all control

    I will resound to the earthbound
    listen to their voices rise

    tune to the animals
    their symphony of sounds

    I will drift as far and as long
    as fuel and time permits
    feel the wind take me

    I will soar so high
    leave the treetops
    far below
    until all I hear
    is the voice of the breeze

    see the world
    bend away
    over the horizons

    see all it’s wonders
    all of nature
    the random
    and the regimented
    the wild
    and geometric

    I will see it all
    from a different perspective

    swept up in ever-climbing
    silent ascent



    • • •




    I Am Bird

    •

    I will glide
    in buoyed flight

    I will soar skyward
    in sweeping circles

    lift high on mighty thermals
    never again to be earthbound

    not a prisoner of this stone and clay
    no longer captive of gravity today

    this day will be soaring
    and swooping
    and diving

    giving thanks for feathers
    and hollow bones



    • • •




    I Am Kite

    •

    the breeze of promise begins to freshen
    waft and build
    it gathers strength

    belief awakens
    I quicken
    anticipation spirals anew

    the building currents draw taut my line
    with an urgent tug the moment arrives

    I billow
    stand and dance
    my sail-skin fills

    my leading edge
    aerodynamic
    sculpted tight against my frame

    caught full by the mounting breeze
    I lift with grace
    rise with purpose

    deft hands
    and a most careful eye
    guide me safely airborne

    further faster I ascend
    carried skyward on friendly drafts

    empowered by winds of fortune
    this day I have taken flight

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Midnight Gliding

    •

    high meadow sparkles

    crisp snow crunches under skis

    midnight cross country

    the landscape glows alien

    like gliding across the moon

    • • •


    • poems and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

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    …check out the other odd couples at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #22 – The Gaia Suite

    This is my Twenty-second post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • an Earth Day message
    • two tankas
    • one prayer


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    • • Happy Earth Day • •

    ____________________________________


    • Go and visit the Earth Day Action Center 2010, and please — be aware!




    An Earth Day message:

    These are some thoughts I would like to share on this Earth Day 2010. It is from my heart, and expresses my great concern for this planet earth, and all of us who are traveling aboard her. If you are not in the mood for heavier fare, you can skip down to the poetry below this message.

    For the rest of you, I see our global society becoming more and more desensitized to killing, suffering, the dignity of women, our failing stewardship of this planet, and the value of life in general.

    Popular art reflects culture; it has in all of history. The ongoing proliferation of movies, video games, music, comic books, our dress and personal trappings, TV, even the TV commercials; this all cast a disturbing reflection of the direction a core section of the people of the earth are moving. And the less than subtle movement to cast doubt, even ridicule, on those who believe that the care of this world needs our attention NOW! One might argue that any of these individually is perhaps moot, but taken as whole, it begs to be examined — I feel.

    Our children and adults alike, spend hours playing graphic video games in which the sole purpose is bloodletting — maiming and murdering, in the most violent and gruesome ways. There are many wonderful video games, but the breadth and depth of the “snuff” games is cause to pay attention.

    The gladiator-like fighting cultures that have arisen in recent years is something to look at. These are no longer the staged violence of pro wrestling, in itself a bit unsettling – these are real blood for the sake of blood. In Rome, the rise of gladiators was a sign of the accelerating decline of the Roman Empire. We may not be there yet, but what does this current, rampant thirst for blood have to tell us?

    Another litmus that has always reflected the culture, is the impact of man’s religious constructs. Too often, the role they play is the manipulation and repression of his freedoms. I have nothing against the numerous religious constructs man has created. For those so drawn, they are a place for the safety and certainty they require.

    However, when radical religious minorities begin to attempt to dictate and rule the masses, imposing their constructed values and fundamentalism, especially when they claim it is the will of god – we’ve got to take serious notice.

    These are the signs that point to the stripping of freedom of responsible individual thought and personal rights – and essentially, eradicating the essence of personal responsibility. Today, with the rise of the repressive extreme fundamentalism that we see around the globe, it is akin to the eve of the dark ages. I don’t think we will descend to those extreme depths, but what does it mean when we have so many who would lead us there – even if, in some cases, it is unwittingly?

    I so want to champion optimism — but I cannot and will not turn a blind eye to the signs I see. None of us had better do so. We all need to become proactive for balance. That is the key. Balance the extremes of this world; ecological, social, moral, financial, and the like.

    To be proactive I have started this creative blog, Image & Verse, to begin, in my small way, to penetrate the root sensitivity of our society. I firmly believe the embrace and expression of creativity is the key to elevating our human species.

    I write poetry, speaking in sparse focused voice at times, entertaining lofty and beautiful thoughts at others, also embracing our human sensitivity and sensuality, and holding a mirror to reflect what is beautiful, or to reflect what I see as troubling — because I believe poetry has the power to penetrate the human psyche to greater depths than any written form.

    Poetry actually has the ability to alter people on a level that strict written word often cannot. If I write an essay, I make you think; maybe even alter your opinion. I write a poem, I have the chance to make you feel something, in your core – that can alter your hardwired being. I believe this.

    I think we urgently need to probe to these depths of the human psyche now, to send out these altering sparks, because I think there is trouble brewing, on some fronts, that could have dire consequence for the long-range future – of the planet and humankind.

    I also write poetry to celebrate, to lift up my own spirit, to have hope, to see possibility – to protect my personal sanity.

    So let us dance, sing, embrace the beauty and the miracle of life and this magnificent world in which we live, and seek joy and truth – but let us not be a Nero. Our Rome is beginning to smolder.

    –and so it goes–
    …Rob

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    …this art piece immediately below is entitled “Gaia Yields” by: rob kistner © 2007…


    The Gaia Suite

    Gaia Weeps

    •

    man seeks dominion

    frail balance has been disturbed

    gaia is weeping

    man clings to his arrogance

    denial does not absolve



    Gaia Yields

    •

    seeds push seeking sun

    sky is pulling with spring rain

    gaia yields new life

    if man is responsible

    the balance can be restored



    Prayer For Balance

    •

    mother gaia you embrace us
    carry us safely
    as we hurtle thousands of miles
    every hour of every day
    through infinite space

    you provide for us our every need
    sustain our bodies with your abundance
    nurture our spirits with your beauty
    your endless wonders

    your need is simple

    that we live in balance with your rhythms
    with our fellow travelers on this amazing journey

    that we know gratitude
    humble stewards of your countless gifts

    for millennium upon millennium
    we lived in harmony
    attentive
    reverent
    but we’ve grown arrogant

    foolishly
    we believe we have dominion over you
    over all in your realm

    in pursuit of intellect we lost our sense
    our equilibrium
    lost our way

    even as we watch you suffer
    we cling to our ego
    to our destructive delusion of supremacy

    we do not see
    do not understand

    please forgive us
    be patient
    do not forsake us
    we can learn
    we must learn

    love for you is still strong
    among your wayward children

    this voice of love cries out
    please listen
    it resonates more loudly with the passing of time

    precious mother gaia
    grant us time to again find our way
    our humility
    our center

    the balance

    • • •

    • tankas and prayer by: rob kistner © 2010

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    …thanks to Catherine for her prompt, and check out the other offerings at readwritepoem