~
fallen into night’s embrace
held down by dark shadows
I writhe in the arms of nightmare
would that I could rise
into the light of dawn’s nod
but I’m flesh, weak, consumed by flesh
purity laid raw entangled in my sin
skin to skin with my obsession
restrained to roil in my transgression
but soon the light of morne
will fold itself upon me pardoned
oh pray I not be too far drawn asunder
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2012
•
standing at the edge
feeling far below
the great tides
the ebb and flow
the rise and fall
the come and go of centuries
wave by wave
day by day
might incarnate
the power of indifference
the surge of perfect apathy
and I
as insignificant as the grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
dragged helpless in the undertow
and that crest of froth
rises up in beckon
the silk of azure blue
slides smoothly down its slope of back
as it dances on the deep
how easy I could slip
into that fathomed realm
down down ever down
into the waiting silence
without so much a noticed sound
absorbed into the churn and roar
without so much a ripple
to disturb the steady surf
a subtle crease
irrelevant
erased even as it came
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
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
Something life’s experiences have taught me: seeing the world for what it is makes you smart, envisioning the world for what it can be – makes you wise…
•
there are countless contradictions
in the elements of the work we do
and conflictions as we strive
but bring these not to table
for I am you
and you are me
and we are all together
in this constant labor
for our daily bread
and this toil to sustain the body
this does not feed the spirit
this is not our true work
to lift someone in need
to measure well in tolerance
to seek the components of peace
to create enduring possibility
this is the true work
in the final sweep
‘round the face of time
this is what the soul eats
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
here is the change
the forgetting
the slipping away
into the haze of memory
the frustration
of no longer being able
and still
the burning longing to…
remember
and you
dimming in this fog
midst the times we have cherished
the places we have loved
fading beyond reach
an ever-mounting loneliness
like so many vacant seats
empty
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
you came to me
deep in my summer
on the wings of spring
filled with hope and wonder
fresh and sweet
as nature’s nectar
you brought my heart to quicken
breathed new life
to fill my soul
awakening forgotten passion
the stir of dreams
the fire of joy
we’ve lived life in celebration
touched mystery
embraced the awe
never ran away from trouble
the good and bad
we faced head on
we’ve traveled now into our winter
a place of challenge
a time of change
though the chill is at the door
still we’re blessed
with nurtured warmth
no matter what life’s weather threatens
we’re ever wrapped
in love’s embrace
side by side as was our promise
together true
to journey’s end
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
do you hear the leaves rustle
do you hear my breath
whispering your name
do you hear my heart beat
do you hear my tears fall
or is it silent
silent as the light-less realm
that hauntingly engulfs my soul
silent as that night
when apples spilled
on the broken stair
where rail eluded
your grasping hand
silent as your futile cry
when no voice came
to grace your lips
tender lips
that parted gently
to hold my kiss
lips
that will not know again
sweet fruit
nor love
rob kistner © 2011
* linked 2011 at Magpie Tales
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.
•
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
•
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
•
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
•
the virgin page taunts me
untouched
the bright white
throbs like a migraine
no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
does it bear
no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
does it proffer
nothing sensual or sensitive to share
no tale to spin
no plot to thicken
no coin of phrase to turn
just vast blank space
tormenting nothingness
cruel emptiness
to drain my brain
dissonance spills through my open window
the scatter of autumn showers
stir of october wind
rustle of moist leaves
in the distance
muffled keens
bursts of barking
far off yelps
the edgy piercing din
of dripping prowling night
intrudes in damp insistence
to fill my head
fevered with frustration
to leave not one small space for wit
the search for insight all for naught
no spark to light this dark
no muse in sight
nothing clever or profound
in the air this night
chilled
slack
uninspired
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
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
Root Quest
•
he walks with staggered step
an uneven broken cadence
for he stumbles with the sins
of his unknown father
resigned to the weight that presses
and bears him bent in melancholy
he does not waver from his path
nor hesitate in his journey
for his stride is for more than one
whose fate he does hold aloft
and through whose pulse and heart
his lifeblood now courses in kind
each step keeps the dream with breath
that over the approaching rise
he will encounter the enigma
which is his fire and source
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
These two poetic reflections are unrelated, beyond their focus on silence. The first reflection here considers what it is to fall into the deepening silence of old age. The second reflection looks at the silence that causes, and also results from repression…
•
shrouded by evening in waning october
as autumn tumbles towards winter
is to know the losing of the light
the ever growing darkness
the advance of the cold
the time of endings
death’s due vigil
deep silence
how do I abide this season
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
escape was an improbability
as was understanding
opinions regarding outcome
ignored altogether
fate sealed with no discourse
executed with an air of entitlement
when one has no arms to flail
no fists to clench
no fingers to point
gestures of dissent are sorely limited
rights easily wrest away
freedom falls beyond grasp
inevitable
when one has no voice
• • •
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