•
beckoned to the final tide
called forth by the ferryman
spirit stirs to the distant voice
that draws you to the journey
caught still in this mortal realm
soul resigned to embarkation
time folding in upon
as slow you approach the vessel
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
____________
image by Mostafa Habibi
•
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
•
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
•
on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
held hostage by tire and curb
as if abandoned by the waters of earth
it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of mother sea
this day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets
me and the first edition
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly serenaded by the 5:00 AM news
I read
occasionally glimpse the screen
grow troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious
in this moment
the tv drones
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare distracted
the announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I’ve fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this world
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
that’s the thing about ruts
the longer we remain bogged
the harder it is to escape
•
stopping is no option
to lose the way
is to keep going
keep moving forward
lest one be rutted in uncertainty
rigid with the rigor of fear
bogged down in despair
paralyzed
stalled in hopelessness
the giving in
the giving up
caught in anguish
the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams
arthritic loss of faith
debilitates the soul
cripples the manifest light
that shines forth
at the leap into dark unknown
into the sacred mystery
frozen is the doubting man
withered in a worried cage
terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked
thus
he bleeds out the color of life
to become cold and grey
a petrified husk
of brittle remorse
mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death
stopping is no option
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
• linked at Magpie Tales
•
the great wheel of time
turns ever slow and steadily
its ponderous mass unstoppable
it presses onward mightily
climbs the mortal mountain
bearing the weight of history
of ages and civilizations
borne then razed by its immensity
our lifetimes ride this wheel
how far is but a mystery
locked in fate ’round we go
rolling bold toward hidden destiny
frail temporal beings
of a most amazing bravery
we dream of a tomorrow
for which there is no guarantee
adrift toward a future
of veiled and vague contingency
still — we dare to love
despite this vast uncertainty
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
connection
to make contact
searching for the sync
the heart of the matter
in this solitary journey
from womb to tomb
a stranger
on the bus of days
seeking distraction
chatting them up
to suppress
the voice of isolation
immersed in the small talk
of love
and accomplishment
to drown
the incessant murmur
of alienation
the chant of abandonment
ever there to remind
that we board alone
to make our way
toward an enigmatic destination
clinging
to a vague vision
of home
to disembark
as we began
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
• collage entitled “The Sync” – by: rob kistner © 2011
__________________
• linked at Carry On Tuesday and Magpie Tales
•
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
Fret Not
•
people are consumed
by endings
speak of their finality
their permanence
their absoluteness
but I say no
in this age of recycling
repurposing
sequels
syndication
spin-offs
botox
rogaine
viagra
endings are not absolute
eventually inevitable
but in that
they are not so special
not unique
beginnings
these are unique
these are absolute
they only happen once
they are not inevitable
not guaranteed
they require a complex
independent
set of variables
to come together
perfectly timed
properly executed
and in that
they are singular
very very special
so let us not fret
nor dwell
nor waste emotion upon
something so commonplace
as endings
instead
let us seek
let us anticipate
let us celebrate
beginnings
these amazing culminations
of elusive possibilities
they are so full
of promise
of potential
of mystery
so worth our wonder
• • •
rob kistner © 4/30/11
This poem was sparked by the incredible power of our earth, as exhibited most recently by the devastating tornadoes that swept through the American Southeast, and with deep reverence and sympathy for those who suffered as a result. I admire greatly your courage and will to live.
Unfazed
•
we live
by its grace
at its mercy
with delusions of mastery
so close to extinction
grappling awestruck
day-in day-out détente
survival in spite
brute power
incredible beauty
this tolerant
indifferent planet
perhaps the imminence of peril
embellishes our wonder
ignites our superstitions
kindles our will to live
but our light will blink out
this orb will evolve
shine on
unfazed
• • •
rob kistner © 4/29/11
“One of my former band members, who was with me in the band in the 1960’s, that inspired this poem from 2011, came to visit me a couple months ago. I had written a haibun at the time in his honor, which I shared here on dVerse. That haibun was inspired by this original poem. I just learned that he died Monday in Geneva, Switzerland. In his memory I am sharing this original poem today, August 22, 2019.”
me and my bles-sed band
bliss’d out from giggin’
bleary-eyed and blasted
mixin’ with fellow players
who’ve now
laid down their last licks
for this night
among willing groupies
the loud hangers on
and my sad friend Joey
just back from Viet Nam
we’re sittin’ and chattin’
with the steel-heart working girls
and sweet soul-bruised painted strippers
they love us ‘cause we’re brothers
in this family of the night
all in the flesh parade
of burnt drink slingers
and tired cocktail mules
hipsters grifters drifters
and slick gamblers
from behind the sealed doors
of those private upstairs rooms
swell perfumed boys
and sisters of the leather
queens and trannies
pimps pushers and the cops
huddled stark as morgue mates
hidin’ from those cruel first rays
like a pack of squandered vampires
ready to scurry off
to well-curtained rooms
or other dark holes of despair
it’s time to make that final score
whatever gets you through
‘till sundown strikes up the band again
I’ll tell ya
ain’t this show biz grand
it’s cirque du morning madness
all sneakin’ up on breakfast
rob kistner © 4/19/11
____________________________
This photo below put me in mind of the 60’s when my band played the all-night R&B clubs in Newport Ky — the ‘wild’ night-world just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. It sparked this poem.
•
tonight
careful hands
peel back cracked
and yellowed protectant
from dark and aging pages
soured
in long-ignored
dusty albums
my wife is liberating memories
life moments
immortalized
faces and places
call from another time
a beautiful young bride
a proud new husband
our sweet children
living
and not
family and friends
here and gone
other visuals
strangely vague
yet hauntingly familiar
draw me
spark warm recall
remembered laughter
tears gratefully less bitter
captured images
collect on our coffee table
so too
do insistent emotions
cascading one by one
and all together
time
the grand thief
who would steal
the treasures of our heart
who would hold hostage
the moments of our journey
beautifully arrested
deeply moved
tears well and glisten
stirred by heartfelt gratitude
for this proof of life
proof
of love
• • •
rob kistner © 4.16.11
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
~
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
•
we are infinite beings
awaking slowly
from some infinite place
our coming to be
unknown to us
as any mystery
learned in stories
in waiting relationships
gradually
we open to our identity
our essence
an enigma
awareness dawns
like the rising
of a newborn sun
we feel its warmth
and flow effortlessly
into timelessness
we are as though
immortal
we see not over the horizon
because we see no horizon
we comprehend no end
immersed only
in our beginning
it is therein exists
the miracle of life
our infinity
we are infinite beings
in this moment
dreaming
to sustain the moment
• • •
rob kistner © 4.11.11