Tag: free spirit

Rapt

NaPoMo poem #9

This is the ninth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

Rapt

____

my footfalls
drum the root chambers
of the old growth
each step
cushioned by centuries of needle-drop
in this ancient forest

enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I amble

my walking stick is smooth
clutched comfortably
in my right hand

tensions dissipate
soothed
by the audible stir of the wind
in the treetops

wafting down the western Cascade slopes
it invigorates

the steady rhythm of my footsteps
hypnotize

rounding a bend in the trail
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop

mesmerized

filtered by the towering woodland canopy
light drifts down dreamlike
settles golden
into the natural cathedral before me

a presence is tangible

a breeze enfolds me
filled with the intoxicating scent
of living earth

an addictive bouquet
of cascade red cedar
douglas fir
ponderosa pine
moss
bark
loam
and ionized mountain air

my spirit rises
my being grows weightless
any sense of self floats away
lifted into oneness
wholeness
bliss

I’m startled from my reverie

a young doe
bounds onto the trail ahead
stands proud
pauses in the golden light

she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time

darting my eyes
here then there
in a vain attempt to follow her
I catch glimpse of silver-blue
shimmering
where massive tree trunks part

a wind-blow lake appears

this crisp mountain mirror
is the reason for my trek
into this mighty wilderness

climbing a boulder at trail’s edge
I sit
pull my legs under me
and lean forward
elbows on knees

I face lake-ward
basking in the energy

I grow very still
listen
gaze
I become this moment
rapt

in touch with my soul
with the eternal
transcendent
in paradise

____

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

My First

NaPoMo poem #8

This is the eighth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

My First

•

radiant in the bloom of youth
perfect skin of alabaster
eyes blue as the sea of Zanadu
chestnut hair flows thick and lustrous

your voice is soft as spring’s first breeze
as rich and melodic as Chopin’s sonata
your beauty smolders like an august night
so much more than captivating

as your satin robe falls soft away
your shoulders catch the moon’s embrace
and as you gaze into my eyes
my heart and all of time stands still

my eyes then glide your wondrous flesh
trace the gentle edge of dark and light
where moonlight fondles your perfect form
as it enfolds you through the open window

I follow full measure your lyric essence
lost in the tangles of your silken hair
aglow in nocturne’s silvered light
as they fan in wisps your graceful neck

I linger on eager bud of tender breast
then fall entranced by the velvet flower
shadowed in the satin cleft
where supple limb meets supple limb

I reach to take you in my arms
to learn the feel of you on me
with precious care I lay you down
and enwrap you in a lover’s passion

alive in a rush of sweet sensations
I’m swept away in a flood of pleasure
so wonderfully new – you are my first
the one I always will remember

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Ziggy

NaPoMo poem #7

This is the seventh of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Ziggy

•

ivory silk french-cuffed bar-collared shirt
soft as butter sweet as cream dessert

cuff links of diamonds and pure white gold
a heady treasure – bourgeois and bold

pearl-stick-pinned satin tie knotted tight
elegant as paris on a saturday night

desert-tan gabardine three-pleat slacks
euro-cuffed razor-creased sharp as tacks

snakeskin braces buttoned sterling bright
hip and killer as a rattler’s bite

black-patton striders with alligator spats
steppin’ out classy as the coolest cats

fine pinstriped linen coat double-breasted
uptown savvy and velvet vested

full-blocked rolled-brim felt chapeau
in the deepest red of a fine bordeaux

he was crisp and smooth as a dry martini
they all called him ziggy
but his name was bob

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

This Path

NaPoMo poem #6

This is the sixth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

…photo below entitled “Edges”, by Pensiero…

This Path

•

I have followed this path
ever onward
to where it has lead

followed its rise
and its fall
in concentric circles of time
sweeping always outward

there is much I have seen
and have experienced

much I’ve missed
and left behind

much I’ve stumbled upon
stumbled over
always to collect myself
and follow on

I have encountered the unknown
been confused
lost my way
and suffered sorrow

I have embraced the wonder
found enlightenment
understood
and known joy

but ever on
this path does lead
and I
in measured step
must ever follow

for I’ve discovered the mystery

I am not on this path
I am this path

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

…poem inspired by a different photo from Pensiero, the individual who created the photo seen in read write image #13, found at “readwritepoem”

 

Still Life

NaPoMo poem #5

This is the fifth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

 

Still Life

•

like drizzled honey
the sun through the treetops
paints my face in golden warmth

my thoughts drift to you
and the tall ships in Beaufort Harbor
their sails aglow
etched in shadows
cast by their riggings
and the masts of adjacent ships

you commented how the patterns
reminded you
of abstract charcoal sketches
the artist in you
always interpreting your world

sunshine made radiant your gentle face
your green eyes sparkled
squinting in the rays
your smile
brighter than the sun that day

I stared captivated
watching your eyes dance
among the docks and ships
that unfolded like a still life before us
watching your lips sculpt your words
wishing the moment would last forever

knowing that it could not

this morning
my memories
amble sweetly
back through time

I find solace in this cuddled light
knowing it warms you
as you rest peacefully
in the sun-drenched meadow
where last you closed your eyes

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Skyward

 

…photo below entitled “Followed by a Dream”, by Pensiero…

Skyward

•

if I could but glide
to the top of these stairs
like a bird in flight

I would soar skyward
in sweeping circles
lifted on mighty thermals

I would not be earthbound
not a prisoner of these steps
not captive by gravity

and… I would not return to work

this afternoon would be soaring
and swooping
and giving thanks
for feathers and hollow bones

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

…poem inspired by a different photo from Pensiero, the individual who created the photo seen in read write image #12, found at “readwritepoem”

 

Love & War (two poems)

 

Love & War

 

The Nightmare

•

my eyes

crisp from the day’s cruel sun
burnt by devastation’s fires
scorched by images of relentless horror

take refuge
in this late-evening fog
settling heavy as a shroud

clinging
opaque
mercifully obscuring

I am sustained
by this damp pall
that descends cool upon me

wraps ‘round my pained countenance
fevered with fatigue
twisted with despair

drawn
by a faded memory of honor
a faint echo of duty
a frayed thread of human dignity

I stumble
broken by this sin I shoulder

not of my making
but of my charge

my sin

unleashed by others
who would impose their delusions
to advance their evil agenda

those who would rule the world

a world now broken
corrupted by their illusions
spoiled by their vanity

a world in chaos
as darkness deepens

this nocturne
I have but this ruin-riddled
highway of blood

of dying dreams
violated innocence
merciless destruction

of horrific death

this path of my duplicity
of my guilt
my shame

and so
I stumble on
bent by the weight of this falling evening
drowned in its drenching sorrow

my spirit hollow and empty
I slink exhausted
into this coming night
and
the next night
and
the night that follows
that always follows

captive on this road of murder
of brutal
human
arrogance

a prisoner
of this lost highway

seeking forgiveness

• • •

 

The Return

•

distant
slurred
reverberant

like a voice in a canyon
I hear you calling
from the past

my name
rolling sweet as nectar
from your lips
soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach

glistening deep coral
as they wrapped softly
‘round each pouted syllable
when you bid me tender farewell
so long ago

our fingertips had strained to grasp
until the final sensation of warmth
of touch
had faded

and they drifted apart

I had struggled
to tear my eyes from your tears
that glistened on your lashes
and around your swollen eyes
blue as a deep summer sky

to slip softly
over the crests of your velvet cheeks
down the contour of your face
flushed as sunset
to lightly salt your quivering lips

numb and dazed
I tunneled down the loading gate
toward the jet
that took me to hell

in those final moments
I locked the image
of your sorrowed face of love
deep in my heart

there it lives as my salvation
my only grasp on sanity
in these horrific years

my lips too
had quivered on that day
from the sting of separation

from the chilling knowledge
I would soon taste
the bitter blood of war
foul with the stench of death

not yet departed
I had longed
on that day
to gaze once more
into your brilliant blue eyes
and taste your sweetness on my lips

as I return this day
trying to face reality at 30,000 feet
I taste the salt of sadness

I fear a kiss from me
with my killer’s mouth
will forever defile
the fragile innocence of your lips

soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach

that glistened
and quivered
when last we parted

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________________

…photorendering entitled “Blood Orchid” by: rob kistner © 2008

 

The Shine

 

 

The Shine

•

I sit

watch the flow of people

the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes

I see wan faces
of unsmiling lips
their void curves denounce this night

yet unseen
is the gossamer curtain’s fall
that defines their soul’s duality

the divergent reality
through which truth stumbles blind
to move in the world
rough as a rope
taut as every promise made

frayed as wisdom
leaned in
whispered from behind

grab at time like dropped money

I might learn something tonight
if someone will release the light
so I can shine like a child
who likes ice cream most of all

this child reads old men’s minds
and notices the shoes
the belts all made of leather

I feel a shiver
of sad imbalance
a confliction in my soul

so I will watch the shoes
and practice non-attachment
because I can

but pieces of me
stick to whoever gets too close

you may have seen me
silhouetted against the sky
the coldest night in January
howling with the frozen moon

then moon and I sneak
through fate’s construct
among cages of studs & trusses
we run

from room to imaginary room
the whole world close enough to touch

we eat a midnight lunch
of damaged bread
seasoned by caution
and foreign lands
with onioned thoughts
layered deep

show mercy
peel back the layers

peel me away
thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul

I hope I am not ugly in your sight

these thoughts
become too heavy to hold
to tough to chew or swallow

my thoughts

bone-white lies of morality plays
open for you to peek

hope they are not ugly in your sight

hope they do not make you weep
as you peel back all the layers

onioned
thought
layers

held fast and firm
like a carapace
to which I’m stitched and welded
and can no more leave
than you can truly enter

they tie me down
sometimes
but sometimes barely so

inescapable optimism
in my barebones grin
flashes in the brittle moonlight

a stranger comes to where I sit
to see

his stare
blinds the stars from my eyes

behind his fey smile
his radar dreams
scan the forgotten creases
and clandestine getaways
in my mind

standing over
he peers down
with probing gaze

one of us will learn
a thing or two this night

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

___________________________________

…photorendering entitled “Cornered” by: rob kistner © 2008

 

Supple Soul

 

…photo below entitled “Strange Fruit”, by Lucas Rocha…

Supple Soul

•

rise up now

clad in colors
of a joyful life

rebuke the strife

tilt against convention

the prevailing norm
is a toxic storm

buck the winds of brute rebuff

stare down the face of ridicule
if buffeted by cruel
condemnation
from the foolish
sadly blown off course

be not inclined to fear
nor falter
choose instead
to tame the dread

to stay ones ground
leaning hard on raw conviction

be anchored bold
and deeply hold
to the genuine
do not resent

remain flexible
to withstand the blows
of frightened those
who would see you swayed
and have you bent

your broken spirit
for so to savor

stand head high
back straight
don’t ever waver

but never rigid
brittle
prone to break

do not forsake
your heart song

wisdom is a supple soul
skewered through
by true enlightenment

pierced clean and strong
by wonder
bleeding hope
and justice

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

…poem inspired by read write image #11, seen above, found at “readwritepoem”

 

Seasons of Love

 

 

Seasons of Love

•

I take you in a park in May
in the cool Spring breeze at the end of day
on the silvered beach of a white-capped bay
at the mouth of a moonlit waterway

I take you in a tree-filled park
on a matt of fallen aspen bark
to the Summer song of a meadow lark
on a sunny day until the dark

I take you by the garden wall
in the dappled shade of a willow tall
on the scattered down of its leafy sprawl
on a crisp, and heady day in Fall

I take you by the oaken mill
‘neath an autumn tree on a grassy hill
I will take you in the early chill
when our Winter comes — I will take you still

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

 

…wonderful poems found at “readwritepoem”

 

The Strike



The Strike

•

warm
familiar
comfortable in my palm
my fingers wrap natural cork
index raised
gauging line tension

precision brings the willow’d shaft
high above my shoulder
flexing expectantly

a flick of my wrist
and the rod arcs forward
increasing the pressure
on my fingertip
as it bends ahead
urgently
seeking release

then
a careful pluck
like a string
on a guitar

it is launched

the ultralight lure
golden at line’s end
sails silent
into the squinting summer sun

with a subtle plick
the barbless hunter disappears
slipping ‘neath the sparkle
of the undulating steam

seductively
I retrieve the bait
with quickening pulse
eagerly visualizing
anticipating the strike

patience draws the offering
alluringly
dancing ever nearer

I long for the sharp
powerful tug

for the slender thread
unreeled before me
to rise
and dart away
in a sliver of silver spray

for my heart to jump
as a proud trout
breaks water
victim to my seduction

in this moment
mind focused
breath steady
senses heightened
awaiting sudden contact

I reflect

there is a simple truth in fishing
as in life

the thrill of possibility
can be as rich
as the reward

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

• photorendering entitled “The Strike” by: rob kistner © 2008

Sacred

A hike into the Cascade Mountains, in image and verse.

Author’s note: It was a beautiful day for hiking here in Oregon, so I made a trek into the Mt. Hood wilderness — camera in hand, notebook and pen in my shirt pocket. This is my day, shared with you here, in image and verse. The photo is a shot of Lost Lake, through the trees, with Mt. Hood in reflection.

lostlake2.jpg

Sacred

•

my footfalls
drum the root chambers of the old growth

each step cushioned
by centuries of needle-drop
in this ancient forest

enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I amble

feeling the smoothness of my walking stick
clutched comfortably in my right hand

an audible stir in the treetops

wind
wafting down the western Cascade slopes

invigorating

the steady rhythm of my footsteps

hypnotic

rounding a bend
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop

mesmerized

light drifts down dreamlike
filtered by the woodland canopy
settling golden around me

a power
a presence
is tangible

a breeze enfolds me

intoxicating

the scent of living earth
an addictive bouquet
cedar
Douglas fir
Ponderosa pine
moss
bark
loam
and ionized mountain air

my spirit rises
my being – weightless

I float away
lifted into oneness
wholeness

epiphonal

suddenly
I’m startled

a young doe bounds onto the trail
standing proud
golden in the light

she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time

my eyes dart to find her
here then there
in vain

I catch a glimpse
silver-blue
shimmering
where massive trees part

wind-blown mountain water
crisp
clear
it sparkles

Lost Lake
the namesake of this trail
my reason for this trek into wilderness

climbing a boulder at trail’s edge
I sit
pull my legs under me
lean forward
elbows on knees

I face lake-ward
basking in the energy
of this natural cathedral

I become very still
listening
gazing

just being

in rapt wonderment
at the magnificence that surrounds me

this place is my church
this moment is my prayer

I am in touch with my soul

with the eternal

• • •

rob kistner © 2007