Tag: truth

Lost Meditations

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Lost Meditations

~

lost meditations resurface
in these november years

reflections of mysteries once pondered
beauty beheld
of veiled truth pursued

in quiet depth
disturbed only by faint breath
beckoning me inward
to the bright center of joy

where a flutter of understanding
in a snap-flash of oneness
shudders me conscious
in shivering anticipation
of that which is not known

that which cannot be named
in the twilight of this finite
as threads of evermore
bind fast my dreams
to carry them onward
effortlessly

I gently surrender
as lost meditations resurface
in my november years

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2008
(revision © 2018)

__________________

  • Click here to read more poetry at dVerse

    • Bohemian Tie-Dye

    This poem was inspired by a suggestion from Andy Sewina, aka SweetTalking Guy. This is a very brief flash fiction written in three American Sentences, a poetic form conceived by Allen Ginsberg.


     
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    Bohemian Tie-Dye

    ~

    jack and Neal on the road
    were rape’n their angst
    in carnal combustion

    allen was howl’n
    pal’n with corso
    but still white-hot for peter

    hunter was fearful
    loathing it all
    as bohemia went tie-dye

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2009

    Touch of Love

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    Touch of Love

    ~

    a quarter century ago
    in the shadow of the tall ships
    nestled inter-coastal
    on the outer banks of Beaufort
    our passion burst to flame

    we bound that flashpoint moment
    in a promise of forever
    and a band of abalone
    I found there in that sunset
    on the Carolina sands

    as ever-precious
    as the diamond ring
    that now encircles in its stead
    that pearled bit of shell
    immortalized our pledge

    even to this day
    it rests next to your heart
    where it falls true and warm
    on links of purest gold
    my constant touch of love

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011



    Click below to read more poetry at dVerse:
    Open Link Night #233

    That Hollywood Sparkle

     

    That Hollywood Sparkle

    ~

    it’s not so much we resent the hungry
    no more than do we despise the poor
    rather we avoid and dismiss them
    with the dull cough of apathy
    we find them disturbing and dangerous
    they disquiet our comfort
    they disrupt our summer stroll downtown

    we do not flow with the milk of kindness
    our part is more the dark brandy of denial
    afterall what is it we can really do
    we do however praise our stars
    for their sensitivity toward the downtrodden
    it makes the less fortunate more glamorous
    and we like the hollywood sparkle it imparts to tragedy

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 6/26/18

    Solitaire


    “A Dinner Table at Night” — by: John Singer Sargent

     

    Solitaire

    ~

    immersed in pleasured chatter
    bursts of heightened laughter

    in the ringing clank of crystal
    of silver on fine china

    crisp bustle of starched service
    lush rustle of satin’d lace

    aglow in silken’d candlelight
    caressed by gentle strains

    wafts of sweet Bordeaux
    heady fragrance of cut orchids

    midst soft din and dance of mirth
    I gaze upon your empty face
    and see there in your hollow eyes
    our game is solitaire

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Perception’s Window


    artwork by Jack Vettriano

     

    Perception’s Window

    ~

    we are infinite beings
    awaking slowly
    from some infinite place

    our coming to be
    unknown to us as any mystery
    our essence an enigma

    learned in stories
    in waiting relationships
    gradually we open to our identity

    awareness dawns
    like the rising of a newborn sun
    breaking on our window of perception

    we feel its warmth
    and flow effortlessly into timelessness
    as though immortal

    we see not over the horizon
    for we see no horizon
    but limitless eternity

    we comprehend no end
    immersed only in the now
    given of our origin

    it is therein exists the miracle of life
    we are infinite beings in this moment
    dreaming to sustain the moment

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Yet

  • inspired by the first day I met my wife in 1987…

     

    Yet

    ~

    had she not appeared in that clearing
    so lost

    had she not crossed my threshold
    on that september day

    had not her voice
    drifted like silk on a summer breeze
    to wrap sheer and sweet
    around my heart

    had not I been drawn
    like a bloom to the morning sun

    had not I been captivated
    as a hummingbird
    by a drop of nectar
    crystal on a velvet petal

    had not my love come down
    soft as a rolling mountain meadow

    had not this dream been born

    had not my life begun again

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    • Morning’s Pardon

  • Morning brings we fallen mortals forgiveness and hope…

    •  

    Morning’s Pardon

    ~

    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

    This Heart

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    This Broken heart

    ~
    this heart’s now yours
    this damaged heart
    this brittle fractured aching heart
    broken by you, every part

    I’ve no use for this ruined heart
    plucked here from my chest
    I seek a new and vital heart
    one that’s far less stressed

    a fresh heart that’s unbreakable
    a heart able to forgive
    unmarred unscarred yet tender
    beating with the joy to live

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    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Rāgarāja’s Daughter

     

    Rāgarāja’s Daughter

    •

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

    on plush cloud so sensuous
    sweet comely goddess forward bent
    graceful face aglow with craving
    you conjure ardor’s obsession

    a’bloom in beckoned fiery swoon
    forearms rest on pillow soft
    thoughts aflame in primal need
    lips burning smile a fetched seduction

    Rāgarāja’s daughter lush with Spring
    smoldering in golden light
    that folds upon you satin supple
    to bathe in warmth your arched desire

    divinely-pleasing luscious morsel
    served up by a master’s hand
    passion bound to tantalize
    to hypnotize my hungry eyes

    lost in carnal fantasy
    fired by this goddess buff
    arises now my animal
    in a beastly urgent lust

    to wrap ‘round
    this maiden magic
    flesh to flesh
    to full consume
    to thrust
    and thrust
    my randy lust
    ’til passion’s seed
    has turned to dust
    and wanton
    carnal flames
    are snuffed

    Spring’s sweet madness
    at last
    enough

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2012

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    The Edge

     

    The Edge

    •

    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


    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Golden Lady

     

    Golden Lady

    •

    golden lady in sensuous silk
    a beauty sure to mesmerize
    sculpted by a master’s hand
    so seductive as to scandalize

    a stare of comely crystal blue
    floats above a ruby pout
    spellbound by her magic eyes
    she holds your soul with no way out

    her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
    like a supple paintbrush flowing
    her smile will fire and hypnotize
    then wrap around you knowing

    you are now her helpless captive
    quite hopelessly addicted
    in the velvet grip of this smoldering waif
    is she an angel — or is she wicked

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Bert Stern

    The Journey

     

    The Journey

    •

    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

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Mostafa Habibi

    Our True Work

    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…

     

    Our True Work

    •

    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

    • linked at Magpie Tales and OSI

    Gone

    …to loved ones missed, now sadly departed…

    Gone

    •

    after the clutter of leaving
    after the hurry of goodbye
    after sweet anticipation faded away

    after no more embraces
    after the laughter was memory
    after the sadness collected day upon day

    after the spaces fell empty
    after the familiar grew distant
    after our time together had become the past

    after the taste of regret
    after the loneliness mounted
    after sands in the glass spilled away much too fast

    I did not think it would be this quiet
    I did not think it would seem so far
    no I did not know it could be so quiet
    nor did I know how this silence would scar

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011