Category: photorendering

Spellbound

poet
you are enigma

darkness and shadow
you veil and shroud

fire and light
you burn and incandesce

torch my essence
burn deep my soul
trouble my spirit
unsettle my being

then poet
ignite my wonder

whet my seeker’s vessel
with need
to be filled full

poet
at once familiar
yet
exotically foreign
wonderfully strange

wrongly boxed but
exquisitely wrapped

in angst
indignation
longing
discovery
loss

in love

with all these
and infinitely more
you reach an empty place
deep within

echoing my past
awakening my myths

exposing
that which I embrace
in the moment
as truth

refocus me

stirring my pain
my anger
my loneliness

my hope

offering just enough answer
that I combust with question
sacred uncertainty

I’m held
suspended in inquiry
in memories of neverwas

enrapt by your careful words
transfixed by mystery
elevated by insight
impaled by vision

spellbound

Frozen Man

Vote = Voice — Speak Up! 2CC45105-E580-4197-9120-35D724A74CF8

Voting HELP: CLICK HERE

 


line art: “Frozen Man” — rob kistner © 2008

 

Stopping Is No Option

~

— QUADRILLE —

Stopping is no option

giving up
is giving in
grip letting go of dreams

frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage

happy is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded

stopping is no option
for the times
they are a’changin’

rob kistner © 2020

~ ~

— COMPLETE VERSION —

* Watch me read Frozen Man complete version: CLICK HERE

Stopping is no option

to lose the way is to keep going
keep moving forward
lest one atrophies
rigid with despair
paralyzed with doubt
locked in hopelessness
bound by fear

the giving up
is the giving in
is the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams

loss of faith debilitates the soul
cripples the manifest light
that shines so bright
at the leap into sacred uncertainty
so bright
as to boldly illuminate truth

frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage

terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked

wounded by fear
bleeding out the color of life
hemorrhaging joy
exsanguinating possibility

a cold brittled husk
mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death
as to light the way of truth

valiant is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded
a cry of dissatisfaction
a voice of change
a stand for defiance

stopping is no option

so senators and congressmen
you best heed the call
don’t stand in the doorway
don’t block up the hall
for they that will lose
will be they who have stalled

so brothers and sisters
raise up your hand
let it be known
throughout the land
if we want change
we must take a stand

NO
stopping is no option

for the times
they are a-changin’

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2008
revision © 2020

 


 

NOTE: To read more about folly: CLICK HERE

The Secret

IMG_8614
photo collage: “The Secret” — by: rob kistner © 1997

 
The Secret

~

from the dawn of awareness
through the dark times
beyond the ages of change
into these times

they have kept it
the keepers of the secret

and now
with great fortitude of will
to safequard frail truth
they must keep it still

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2019


 

  • Click for more dVerse poetry:
    Quadrille #91 – Keep

    • Hedone’s Daughter

  • WARNING! For adult readers only!

    •  

    loves-serenade

     

    Hedone’s Daughter

    ~

    radiant vision silken skinned
    translucent alabaster blaze
    torrid as a teen’s temptation
    leaned low
    here before me
    yearning

    straplened ankles fragile turned
    stiletto’d rise
    on carpet soft
    emblazened vixen
    forward bent
    availed so boldly
    flush with craving

    graceful face
    brazen aglow
    comely raised and tilted back
    my fingers tangled in your hair
    lifting firm
    yet luscious slow

    swept away in lustful swoon
    forearms rest on velvet sheets
    eyes aflame in sapphire need
    blatant in your fetched seduction

    Hedone’s daughter lush with Spring
    smouldering
    in golden light
    that folds upon you soft as satin
    ‘cross nape of neck
    arched silk desire

    down glistening back
    that tempting tapers
    to the tender
    warm and sultry
    wonderland for fingertips
    to touch
    and tease
    and tantalize

    to explore
    your quivering body
    soul-addictive
    luscious
    grand
    divinely-pleasing sculpted vessel
    brought forth by Aphrodite’s hand

    virgin fruit swells full and ripe
    flesh silhouette to hypnotize
    enticing in the candle’s flicker
    fondled by my hungry eyes

    they stroke and tweak
    the blossomed berries
    that burst
    engorged with passion’s heat

    that taunt my tongue to twirl ’round
    my teeth to nip in playful tug
    draw to my lips
    now lewdly moist
    to take
    and taste in eager suckle

    willful hands
    of pleasured probing
    wrap slender waist
    then slowly slide
    ‘cross pleading hips
    of sensuous rise
    to fall into erotic folds
    molded from the charms of Venus

    ’round dual swells of burning myth
    that writhe
    atop two lathen’d stems
    long and lithe
    as liquid love
    turned by pleasure’s gloried angels
    tempered in a sacred fire

    stretched taut
    raised high on tips of toes
    proud
    defined
    and goddess buff

    enough to make one
    want to stuff
    to thrust and thrust
    in randy lust
    ’til passion’s seed
    has turned to dust

    and wanton
    carnal
    flames
    are snuffed

    spring’s sweet madness
    full rebuffed

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2018)

    _____________________

  • candle photo entitled “Lovers” by: Bolshevixen

  • photographer of couple embracing unknown

  • Click to read more dVerse poems of desire

    • Cloistered

  • This piece deals with the strange duality we all carry with us through life, the unique contradiction between the person we think we are, and the ‘many’ other persons others perceive us to be from their experience of us, as filtered through their differing individual perceptions. Fair or not, convenient or not, we are ‘judged’. Our lives are impacted to one degree or another, every day by how we measure up to each of these interpretations of the “I” we are thought to be. This includes the “I” we perceive ourselves to be. Which one is real, is valid, or is any one of them truly definitive? The phrase “I am” presents a fascinating philosophical quandary.


    image by René Magritte

     

    Cloistered

    ~

    when another
    tells you of yourself
    you’re shown the dance they see
    your outward choreography

    but you hear not of the music
    that rings true in your mind
    that leads and drives the steps
    to this inward dance they’re blind

    you are shown the reflection
    not the light that shines inside
    that illuminates your soul
    to guide your steps and stride

    are we the I that we know
    the self that we so treasure
    or are we in fact the other
    the one the others measure

    for if the valid I
    be the one that is most known
    then we are in fact that I
    the one to ourselves not shown

    for surely when compared
    the majority story shared
    is of the outward other
    the one seen by another

    and so we live our life
    cloistered in this other
    and live this life alone
    even when by many known
    for the I that’s outward shown
    is the I that’s not our own

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    • 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

    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

    Burn

    …in response to the 13th prompt of 2010 on Writer’s Island, I offer a piece I wrote inspired by Joni Michell’s album entitled “Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter”. Embedded in this work is the title of every track that appears on that album / also for prompt #126 ‘Angel’ at One Single Impression…



    Burn

    •

    come to me
    talk to me otis
    and
    marlena
    reveal your mystery

    I am your brood
    sired by your seed
    bloodied
    from your womb

    whisper
    in a scorching breath
    tell me about
    the tenth world

    taunt me
    in scalded apparition

    tell me how
    to get to dreamland
    to cotton avenue
    on a hot off night
    back street in jericho

    tell me of the fires
    on paprika plains
    that consumed your souls
    in flames of hunger
    to lust
    for immortality

    made you dance
    at midnight
    wrapped in
    the silky veils of ardor
    on prurient
    smoldered embers

    I want to go
    I am ready

    an inferno burns
    inside me
    desire rages strong
    to ride the bliss of sin

    son of concupiscence
    I am
    your son

    your lifeblood
    courses through me
    hammers in my temples
    sets my heart ablaze

    impassioned
    I wil prowl
    the shadow’d haunts
    of jericho

    the dark places
    of the tenth world
    following your ghosts

    seeking
    don jaun’s reckless daughter
    my scarlet jezebel
    my nocturne angel
    to take me
    in a fever

    to whirl me ‘round
    to burn me down
    to ash

    to scatter me
    by moonlight

    forever
    in the winds
    of memory
    on those plains
    of ardor

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • photorendered collage entitled “Dance of Ardor” by: rob kistner © 2010

    Breakfast Lovers Fanatsy

    …I wrote this in response to the July 5th prompt at Big Tent Poetry…


     

    Breakfast Lovers Fantasy

    •

    whether panning for poached
    fishing for fried
    or sifting for softly scrambled

    maybe bobbing for boiled
    or sunny side up
    angling for over easy

    perhaps baiting a hook
    for benedict
    or dangling a lure for deviled

    be they baked in cakes
    or dropped in soup
    it’s a whites & yolks wet dream

    it’s a breakfast lovers fantasy
    going to the eggs stream

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • manipulated photo entitled: “PanFish” — created by: rob kistner

    Lupus Luna

     

    Lupus Luna

    ~

    wolf moon hangs heavy
    in the damp night sky

    I feel its powerful tug

    bulbous moist pearl
    rolling in a cold chromium fog

    forging my steely urges
    hardening my unspeakable needs

    wet slivers of cloud
    smear themselves across its face
    irregular
    dappling my perverse metamorphosis

    translucent sacks of moonbeams
    glide the blue black sky
    breathing

    the hoarse breath of the beast
    festers a howl
    rumbling deep in my throat

    in the heavens
    glassine billowing pillows
    oozing
    soaked with midnight

    stars float and spark
    glinting
    dripping
    shivering

    as I shudder
    in dread of this witching hour
    engorged with unearthly power

    frozen splintered crystal tips
    diamond chips
    pinprick rips in blackened space

    piercing
    white hot
    my ungodly eyes
    seared with bloodlust
    probing
    hunting

    stars wink and wane
    and glisten
    shattered bits of silvered light
    snapping here then not
    behind the ghostly white vapor
    that slithers through the firmament

    I slink the midnight mists
    eternally cursed
    driven by a horrible hunger

    the world
    devoid of color
    aglow in sterling grey
    a negative of day

    thick and chilled

    filled with the sound
    of stalking
    after-dark things

    abominations of nocturne
    in this sorrowing hour
    to lay bare your soul
    in periled introspection

    in grief of secrets

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010

  • collage above entitled “Lupus Luna” by: rob kistner © 2010

    • NaPoWriMo #18 – Human Arrogance

    This is my eighteenth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one tanka

    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Irene’s day 18 read write poem prompt / and #49 at carry on tuesday

    ____________________________________


    …a thing of beauty is a joy forever, a captive wild soul — is a tragedy…


     

    Pacing

    •

    from rippled sinew black as midnight
    bores a stare of molten gold

    a furious but calm inferno
    searing deep to burn your soul

    I watch helpless this panther’s pace
    held captive in this foolish zoo

    cold eyes rivet snarled contempt
    unfathomed pools of quiet rage

    on this panther paces paces
    turns and paces back he paces

    graceful stride of brute resolve
    presses on to test the limit

    proud this captive soul just paces
    frustration turns anger retraces

    this brutal prison of false environ
    does not fool this mighty beast

    observe how he continues pacing
    instinct certain this is not home

    his piercing gaze fixed well beyond
    his suffered fate of cruel confine

    see the panther pacing pacing
    his nature steeled his spirit strong

    relentless sorrow wild longing
    drive on and on his constant stride

    this will not break his fierce resolve
    he tracks freedom he stalks life

    imprisoned he will forever pace
    and he will pace

    and he will die

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Out Of Step

    •

    nature is a dance

    transcendent syncopation

    rhythmic side by side

    but the chorus line falters

    humankind is out of step

    • • •



    • poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    …collage just above entitled “Nature’s Anger” by: rob kistner © 2006
    …panther image digitally rendered & edited by: rob kistner 2010 — base image source anonymous…

    ____________________________________

    …check out what’s prowling over at readwritepoem…

    NaPoWriMo #10 – Woodpeckers / Hiking

    This is my tenth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one haiku



    ____________________________________

    …this piece was written in the spirit of Pamela Sayers’ prompt “Celebrate!” at read write poem…

    ____________________________________




     

    Woodpeckers

    •

    the two red crests are busy
    hammering away
    peck peck peck
    big chucks of the dead pulp
    flying in all directions

    the elusive couple has come
    down into the yard
    from the climbs
    of the old-growth forest
    that surrounds our home
    to get their fill
    of early-season insects

    comfortable as two dancers
    they circle each other
    bobbing and weaving
    on the old Douglas stump
    peck peck peck

    beautiful in black
    bold scarlet topknots
    vivid white to frame the faces
    majestic in their size
    and mystery

    these life-mates
    rule our woods
    often heard
    peck peck peck
    seldom seen
    save a passing glance
    of red and wing

    but here they are
    resplendent in the Oregon sun
    emboldened by mating season
    and the spring bounty

    they flit occasionally
    in turn
    to the nearby red cedar
    centuries old
    live and looming
    but they return to the stump
    peck peck peck
    preferring the delicacies
    in the decaying remains

    the smaller starkly-striped Downy
    with his crimson cap
    and wings white on black
    has joined them
    in this supper hour


    but he swings
    and pecks quietly on the suet
    dangling from the eaves
    having been ushered indiscreetly
    from the Pileated’s banquet


    a gorgeous Northern Flicker
    speckled and curious
    observes at a distance
    from the forest canopy
    not partaking in this evening’s feast

    my wife and I sit silent
    and amazed
    captivated by the glory of nature
    being celebrated
    just beyond our bedroom window


    we join the celebration
    grateful for the privilege
    humbled by this spectacle
    hopeful for our planet

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________






     

    Hiking

    •

    each crest a new thrill

    each fresh turn an adventure

    hiking the forest

    • • •

    poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …for more NaPoWriMo 2010 day nine poems, go to readwritepoem…