Tag: lost

I will Not Forget

NaPoMo poem #19

This is the nineteenth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This poem is an edited rewrite of an older poem I’d written, but not completed to my satisfaction. Today’s prompt brought such deep feelings flooding into my heart, I was compelled to revisit the draft of this work and bring it to a fitting completion. I am very pleased with how it has turned out.

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

 

I Will Not Forget

(rappelé toujours)

•

there are days I still can feel
the breeze of youth gently stir my soul

days remembered of grace and lightness
when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams

those days of you

when all we touched was fresh and new
and the world was full of wonder

when we were certain we’d live forever
our strength made each day a great adventure

those carefree days

the days we witnessed one for the other
as we made vows to our chosen life mates
raised our children
grew our careers
our families close through these days of joy

but not these days

I’ve grown unyielding
rigidly braced
against the winds of time and fate

my soul is rooted in life’s demands
I search its blessings
curse its burdens

these brittle days

I am bent by the yoke of worry
heavy with the weight of loss

I am haunted by the ghost of memory
the lonely days when I think of you

these empty days

how can this void be filled
when one so vital has departed

this world was denied much wit and wisdom
kindness and love lost
when you passed

how can this void be filled
when one so rich in these is gone

one who understood the need for giving
in a careless world darkened by greed

a tender heart
truly unselfish
whose warm embrace included all

how can this void be filled
when a brilliant light has been snuffed out

I will not forget

I will remember you
and all those days
that’s how I will fill this void

with the seeds of friendship
you planted deep inside my heart
now filled with grief

may they grow to make me gentler
and me — the world a better place

good-bye my friend

ever will I tend these seeds
and think of you

I will not forget

• • •

 

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Stir of Love

IMG_8652

 

Stir Of Love

____

he has kept it locked for so long
the horror of that night
holds the seal tight

the memory riveted
securely barring entry
none can pass

his bitter resolve
makes certain none will try

this is a dark forbidden place
high-walled
cold and barren
unyielding
lifeless

a wasteland of the lost
inhabited by the dead

the gate grown over
by a tangle of grief and anger

any memory
of a once vital presence
of a living breath
of warmth
of joy
forever gone

brutal night has fallen long ago
that no sun can penetrate

the blackness soothes him
he retreats into its depths
embraces its lightless void
hiding
sulking

shielded from any possibility
of further pain or remorse
he is unfeeling
safely lifeless

but see
a shadow
falls across the threshold

someone approaches

a comely being
warm and alive
lays gentle siege
threatening to breach
his hardened fortress

but
this lovely creature
fair and fragile
can not possibly gain entrance

must not

he will resist
he must

this is wrong
this is trespass

this is cruel betrayal
of his lost beloved

he has no right
to leave this place of sorrow
to step into the light

no right

but it grows inevitable
all seems lost
his stronghold is succumbing
falling to this delicate advance

he is vulnerable
terrified
but it is useless to resist

searching with a patient heart
she has found it
the key

grasped in her loving hand
fingers tenderly enfold it

gently
she slides it into the lock
turning with great care

he is defenseless
he feels his heart slowly open

the long forgotten
stir of love
begins to warm his soul


IMG_8653

____

 

rob kistner © 2009

 

Offbeat

NaPoMo poem #18-A

This is poem eighteen-A of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This poem was inspired by a prompt at Sunday Scribblings. Prompt was “language”.

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

 

Offbeat

•

it’s fine that logic’s lost behind me
I might just loose my mind completely
sanity is overrated
it don’t mean much you see

so who’s to say that I can’t fly
and whose right is it to question why
I wear my trousers inside out
it keeps the pockets dry

I see you smirking at my hat
it’s aluminum foil – imagine that
it helps with my cell phone reception
and fascinates my cat

yes I do lose track of time
days and weeks – is that a crime
you know it’s all just one’s perspective
you’ve got yours I’ve got mine

and I’ve a language of my own
like no other that you’ve known
I speak it only to myself
when I am all-alone

now if you see me on the street
ignore the cowbells on my feet
I’ve chosen to live my life my way
I’m not nuts — I’m just offbeat

• • •

 

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Gone / A Leaf

NaPoMo poem #17 & #17-A

This is a pair of poems I offer for the seventeenth day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

These two works, though written separately, have revealed themselves to be joined as bookends of emotion — the piercing ache of separation, and the bittersweet tenderness of eternal longing.

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

 

Gone

•

turning to leave
you cover the distance
to the door
in a few heartbroken steps

you look back
I will miss you
in your eyes

you hold my gaze
as if to speak

nothing is said

you lower your eyes
turn your head
step through the door

and are gone

• • •

 

 

A Leaf

•

sitting
I watch a leaf
fall from a tree

forever parted

the evening light
settles soft on my face

my eyes
fix on the far horizon

a tear
warms my cheek

you have never left my heart

• • •

 

both poems by: rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

15 Days To Go

NaPoMo poem #16

This is the sixteenth 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.

 

15 Days To Go

•

I just sit here and stare
my creative cupboard’s bare
I find I just can’t write
but I can’t be up all night
not when there’s still 15 days to go

no matter how hard I try
I just come up dry
I am most bereft
I’ve nothing poetic left
and there’s still 15 days to go

I’m not at all amused
that my muse has refused
to offer inspiration
and to add to my frustration
there’s still 15 days to go

I think perhaps I’ll draw
and hope that this will thaw
my rock-hard writers freeze
I beseech you sweet muse – please
there’s still 15 days to go

I’ve struggled and I’ve stammered
I think I’ll just get hammered
if I really tie one on
the pain will all be gone
screw it, it’s only 15 days – ya know

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

The Return

NaPoMo poem #14

This is the fourteenth 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.

 

The Return

•

the ruby’d chains
sparkled and stretched away
pulling me along

as 2 cords
of diamond bright white
clustered up from behind
to nudge me onward

the precious ribbons
stranded for miles
disappearing over the horizons

the freeway had been dense
this night
as I made my way
from the busy airport
back to our beloved home
our sanctuary

the one we’d found together
deciding immediately – this was it
on that crisp spring saturday
when we were beginning
to feel we never would

the home we’d come to cherish

but finally
this turn
down our country lane

I could make it in my sleep

so familiar

I anticipate every bend
and rise
every dip

they are welcome as a friend

like the sound of my tires
as they trundle ‘cross
the narrow wooden bridge
that fords
our crystal trout stream
as it falls
brisk from mountain snow-pack

and coming round

I see the corridor
of faithful old-growth Doug’s
stepping back for me
to nestle the foothills

inviting my return
guarding my safe passage

they sway

as if to celebrate
that I am back

now
it’s left up our gravel drive

the pebble and crushed rock
crunch and clatter in stony rustle
as I traverse our hill

then swing onto our concrete carport
pause
and key the engine off

all is silent
save the tick and popping
as the engine cools

this is my favorite moment

just before I open the door
to step up
and approach the house
to bring myself to you

this moment of anticipation
knowing you are waiting

bathed and fragrant
warm and soft

dressed in something that will whisper
welcome home my love
I’ve missed you

then I take you in my arms
fall into your loving eyes
pull your willing body close

to wrap ‘round you
and drink you in
intoxicated

these moments
melt into sweet love making
that continues until exhaustion

we both love
when I return
happy ending, stop here…… from a business trip ……stop here, happy ending

• • •

tearful ending, read on…… but tonight ……read on, tearful ending
I do not key the engine off

I do not reach for the handle

do not open the door

I simply
sit

you are no longer waiting
not in quite sometime

not since you lost your battle brave

not since I held you
that final time
your body still warm and soft

not since then

not since then

now
my business trips are longer

my returns
fewer

and farther between

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Morning in the Neighborhood

NaPoMo poem #12

This is the twelfth 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.

 

Morning in the Neighborhood

•

he lifts himself quietly
so quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect

he makes his way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed in a heap
un-moving on the floor
save a twitch of the head

which head now harbors demons
where nocturne angels
of sweet release
laid down lush upon her
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver
in the soured vein

this wreckage is his mother

he stops but for a glance
verifying life
then moves on
head down

he angles to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash his face

a face lit sallow
by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely

eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
stare into the mirror
broken as his heart

in the dank foodless morning
of this ruined single room
he gathers up his books
steps lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets

heavy with a childhood
of strangled dreams
he ducks and dodges
in and out of shadows

his prayer
to once again avoid the evil
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled brickened canyons

seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake

evil

which if diligence should fail
will consume his youthful soul

deliberately he continues
until at last he finds his way
into the building
into the classroom
into his desk

into the only hope
to which this innocent
dare cling

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Val

NaPoMo poem #10

This is the tenth 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.

Suggested by read write poem as a poem for day 10 of National Poetry Month; this type is known as a ‘found poem’. Passages here are borrowed from the pages of Robert A. Heinlein’s science fiction masterpiece, “Stranger in a Strange Land”. While still holding fast to the spirit of Heinlein’s novel, I’ve slightly rearranged, and mildly embellished the text to create this piece entitled “Val”.

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

 

Val

•

valentine michael smith
was a most intelligent creature
a son
of deep space pioneers

he lived an alien
on the far frontier
his ancestry was human

raised on mars
by planet natives
he thought and felt
quite martian
he’d never laid eyes
on man

brought to earth
by scientists
who knew not
how to grok* smith
who knew not
how not to
and quickly grokked
the madhouse planet

he understood earth
and its suffering
so thoroughly
it became his own

it nearly drove him crazy

heartfelt
val reached out
to spread enlightenment

for this
he was despised

feared and hated
quite ungrokked
smith was sadly slain

his death was brutal
he died as he lived
a stranger
in a strange land

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

*Grok – to understand so thoroughly, the observer becomes part of the observed

• 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

 

Bleed-Through

NaPoMo poem #4

This is the fourth 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.

 

Bleed-Through

•

second coat
always a second coat

makes the color deeper
no bleed through
so I have at it once more

this empty room needs a change
now that you are gone

but two coats
three coats
I still can see the heartache
bleeding through

and the tears

these walls are saturated
I still hear them weeping

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Splendid Fool

NaPoMo poem #1

This is the first 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. As April 1st is also ‘Fools Day’, I felt the subject of this piece to be most appropriate.

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

 

Splendid Fool

•

spring can make one
act the splendid fool
heady with anticipation
desires sparkle like a jewel

now intoxicated
winter’s pale heart yearns
to feel this grand unfolding
as nature’s great mandala turns

this sweet inebriation
of love’s eager soul
can spark the rash impulsive
and draw one to the jester’s role

be wary – for when one’s
caught in this season’s swoon
that which brittles in january
one might embrace in supple june

the elixir of a world in bloom
is to the lusting lovelorn
a most dangerous of potions
causing clear thought to be stillborn

remember and be warned
under passion’s frenzied rule
spring will often make one
act quite the splendid fool

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

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

 

Lost To Me

Lost To Me

•

when you could
no longer
look
into my eyes

I knew
you were lost to me

when you could
no longer
hold
my longing gaze

I knew
you were lost to me

when you could
no longer
softly speak
my name

I knew
you were lost to me

when you could
no longer
smile
at my tender touch

warm
to my embrace

rest your head
upon my shoulder

nor
whisper
of your love

I knew then
for certain

you
were lost to me

never again
will I
soar
above the clouds

circle
‘round the sun

dance
among the stars

fold
with you
in the crescent
of the waning moon

never again
will I
drink deeply
from passion’s fount

nor
taste
a lover’s lips

you
are lost to me
forever

lost to me

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

Through Time & Space

 

…the following is an excerpt from a science fiction novel I’m writing

 

• • •

 

Through Time & Space

•

“I have watched
golden fire clouds,
hanging in pale green skies,
over the azure seas of Toluras”

“I have seen the copper leaves
of the parmus fronds
flashing from indigo mountains
in the crystal mists of Gemin.”

“I have beheld exquisite beauty
in my rich, full life
but none so beautiful
as your eyes tonight”

Artheo whispers these bewitching words, his breath warm on the tender lobe of my ear. Searching the depth of my eyes, plumbing my very soul, he presses his lips softly to mine, and with gentle passion — bids me farewell with a kiss.

The exchange of poetry, at times of high emotion, is a longstanding tradition on our planet – and my lover’s words were especially moving as we parted tonight.

This intimate moment now three hours past; I linger in the bittersweetness, still tasting his lips, smelling his hair, feeling the heat of his body – I ache for him.

But here I stand on the aft deck of the Thadius, hurtling through space, gazing into star-clustered blackness, cherishing the pleasures of our parting embrace.

A sudden chill shocks me sober. I’ve been here, done this, precisely this in every detail. But I know that is not possible. It is my first time aboard this particular ship.

I am gripped by foreboding. I shiver as I watch the sapphire-jade orb that holds my fascination, grow smaller, being slowly swallowed by the eternal night of space. It continues to recede, its form becoming softer, less clearly defined in the carbon-composite observation bubble, as zero-g frost clouds and obscures this breathtaking view of this lush planet, our home planet – Gemin.

Some now on board will not again see this precious sight for fifteen years, if they are counted among the fortunate who do return.

We race, exceeding light-squared, toward a distant call for help, an unknown destiny, in the far reaches of uncharted space — with no idea what we will encounter. The call made it certain that no good lay ahead for those aboard who now rush to respond to the enigmatic distress signal.

I am Sephias, on an ecological research mission, to return home in a year’s time. My team and I disembark at Topiarus, the first stop on this voyage.

Although I am off-ship before we reach the origin of the urgent summons — I am nonetheless distraught. It is the anxiety of separation. It is also the result of the intense stress that permeates the crew who are going the distance, to the edge of space, to answer the cry for help. The pressure is palpable, contagious — I feel it to my core. It terrifies me.
Continue reading Through Time & Space