Poetry – Page 78 – Image & Verse

Conjured

Conjured

the restless
unsleeping souls
are conjured forth
to celebrate this night’s
rising unhallow voudon moon

spirits entrapped in darkness
possessed
writhe here entranced
in bestial
rhythmic profane dance

a demonic ritual
of ungodly fire
cast this spell
of last atonement

these lost forgotten
called this deep night
by dark houngan magic
proffered by this voodoo priest

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summoned
from the place of limbo
by this fevered shaman’s will
to bear immortal witness

seeking sanctified forgiveness
eternal pardon
to be ever spared
the consuming void
of graceless oblivion

while unholy apparitions
descend wraith-like
in dreadful cluster
to horror’s hellish plane

these begging mercy
rise supplicant
from the papa loa’s
sacred 8-point flame
in merciful petition
to the vengeful one

lest this eater of the undead
set upon the dawning morrow
to steal the blessed light of hope

and hurl the innocents
into the pit of anguish

foresaken
lost forevermore

conjured

~ ~ ~

Poetics: Mardi Gras Mambo

DAY 13

Battling The Dragon

In memory of my friend, “piano man” Frank Weiss, 1950 – 2005 ALERT: This poem might prove alarming to some.

This is presented in fairy tale form, but this is not fantasy. This is based on a true story, no happy ending. A tale of woe, and a tale of warning. The tale of Sir Frank, the musical wizard, and the dragon he was fated to battle for seven (7) years. Sir Frank fought bravely, and fully accepted that this battle was his responsibility. This tale is not told lightly, but with genuine sadness, and enduring love.

Battling The Dragon

he had such a great laugh
and talent 100 fold

he was a keyboard wizard
who conjured hard won magic
on a daily basis
riding persistent sentry
over his mighty sleeping dragon
keeping it at bay
protecting himself and loved ones
from its ravaging fire

this dragon had held him captive
for a number of years
having overtaken him one day
in a careless moment of weakness
when this wizard had been foolish
and let down his guard

but the brave wizard
Sir Frank as he was known
had again found his courage
and fought back the dragon
driving it into submission
difficult and tentative as it was

sadly though
the cunning dragon
would not be held down
and in a moment
when the wizard’s vigilence
had sadly waned
the dragon pulled Sir Frank
once more under his evil spell

on this fateful day
the wizard’s infectious laughter
had become infected lunacy
his beautiful dreams
had again become dread

as the nightmares returned
the dragon imprisoned the wizard
in its dark and haunted lair

it was reported
Sir Frank’s rants
could be clearly heard
above the bustle
of the homeward privileged
that passed unaware
of the wizard’s dilemma

the battle had raged
coarse rants and ramblings
rose from the rancid shadows
until in final desperation
fetid hands lit the fateful fire
that brought to boil
the white magic potion
of the wizard’s deliverance

he’d slipped the cold steel
into the froth of sweet promise
still warm with transformation
and drew the white magic potion
into the glassen’d vessel
of ultimate escape

tied and tapped into submission
distraught from battle
this magical musical wizard
impaled his demons
with the dragon’s dagger
hoping the potion
would drive back the dragon
saving himself yet again

but not this time
no deliverance this time
the dragon claimed the wizard
as silver-white dreams
carried him away

the wizard was gone
gone on his white horse
for his final ride
to the realm of no return

~ ~ ~

Chalkstripes

Chalkstripes

smell of gloveleather
oiled in neatsfoot
smooth ash bat handle
heft on my shoulder
scrape of metal spikes
on concrete sidewalk
vivid chalkstripes
on soft tan dirt
seamed cowhide sphere
cupped in my hand
ballcap tugged snug
steppin’ on the ballfield
remembering you dad

~ ~ ~

__________________________

Dad managed my high school hardball team. I managed my sons. This coming summer, my son will manage my grandson in T-ball.

Click below to read more Quadrilles at dVerse.

Quadrille #75: Spike up a Poem

My Clown

My Clown

is this the plot the studio intends
an evil villain who’s a hopeless clown
I wonder how this horror movie ends

this clown’s so old he prob’ly wears depends
that explains his struggle not to frown
is this the plot the studio intends

no way that clown and beauty queen are friends
not as hot as she looks in that gown
I wonder how this horror movie ends

bet he’s gonna kill her with those book ends
perhaps he’ll beat her with her pageant crown
so what’s the plot the studio intends

no wait, this is a RomCom – that offends
all this lovey dovin’ brings me down
this cannot be the way this movie ends

I came here for horror – gore that frightens
man this is such a disappointing letdown
this can’t be the plot the studio intends
this cannot be the way this movie ends

~ ~ ~

Click below for more villanelles at dverse:

Forms for all – the Villanelle

Temples of Avarice

Image by Tomasz Zaczeniuk

Temples of Avarice

they rose gargantuan
these icons
of the clever human

they once vibrated
with the rush and chaos
of synapse and sinew

they hummmed
with networked urgency

a torrent of data
outdistancing comprehension

‘we can’
beyond the reach
of ‘should we’

a time too blind
to see its faulted fate
a time to turn back
sadly came too late

bedecked in stainless
stone
and arrogance

a halogen blaze
of neon fire
burnt logic

they surged
with the impulse of power
and greed

in varying shape
and differing size
they flanked for miles
in gridded corridors

that crissed and crossed
blinked and beeped
buzzed and hissed
they stank!

temples of avarice
now but this lone
crumbling monolith

this final tribute
to human folly

~ ~ ~
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55 Word Version

they rose gargantuan
these icons
of the clever human
shrines of synapse and sinew

humming
with networked urgency
torrents of data
outdistancing comprehension

‘we can’
beyond the reach
of ‘should we’

bloated
with a need for power
diseased with greed

temples of avarice
now but this lone
crumbling monolith

this final tribute
to human folly

~ ~ ~

__________________________

Click below to see what’s turning on dVerse.

Turn, Turn, Turn . . .

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Click HERE to read more work on TOAD, inspired by this image

Spring Song

Spring Song

Mad March weather means Spring will soon arrive. My humor may actually survive. Winter rains held on long this year, but skies are begining to clear. This season improves my attitude, lifting my mood. My prodigal smile breaks through the parting clouds.

Warming sun and gentle rain ignite seeds, pushing new sprouts through the rich fertile earth. This is nature’s cycle of rebirth. Butterflies cavort with eager buds bursting forth through ready limbs. Snow-melt swollen streams run fast beyond their brims.

Songs of returning birds lilt brightly through greening trees. They carry like the fragrance of new blooms, wafting softly on the breeze. The smells, hues, and sounds of boisterous Spring make my heart begin to sing, and my spirit begin to dance!

wings flutter gently
spring breeze bends full flowered stems
meadow dance begins

~ ~ ~

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Click below to read more Haibuns at dVerse:

Haibun Monday: March Madness

Seabed Sway

Seabed Sway

(- SORROW -)

beauty walks to the sea by her home
on this broken cloudy day
slips into the sea alone
silently she swims away

on this broken cloudy day
alone with her fractured wishes
silently she swims away
deep down with the fishes

alone with her fractured wishes
a’swim in the seabed’s sway
deep down with the fishes
she is leaving it all today

a’swim in the seabed’s sway
with nothing more left to say
she is leaving it all today
the sea carries her spirit away

~ ~ ~
________________________

(- HAPPINESS -)

she walks to the sea by her home
on this bright and sunny day
slips into the sea alone
joyfully she swims away

on this bright and sunny day
with her heart awash in wishes
joyfully she swims away
down with the colorful fishes

with her heart awash in wishes
a’swim in the seabed’s sway
down with the colorful fishes
she is filled with love today

a’swim in the seabed’s sway
neptune’s beauty on bold display
she is filled with love today
letting her dreams carry her away

~ ~ ~

Links to my other 3 Pantoums:
1.) Pantoumadness
2.) Flame Of Learning
3.) Lady Blue

Click below to read more Pantoums at dVerse:
https://dversepoets.com/2019/02/28/18102/

Swept Away

A bluesman’s life and soul: “Music gives me goose-bumps, especially when created from the heart, by a genuine human spirit…”

Swept Away

(- REDUX 2019 -)

memphis red
no longer is

gray now shines
from a balding head
filled with scarlet embers

memories still burn
a fired spirit

too deep for coddled mortals
to fully fathom

red is real
red is legend

his tales of pain
of injustice
the lore of the big muddy

his eyes
earthy brown
turbulent as that river

his stare
a deep current
impossible to escape
you’re swept away

his voice
a tempered edge
honed by blues

broadleaf husky
thick as sorghum
smooth as beale street bourbon

the cf martin
swings from a leathered neck
on a tattered strap
stretched and shaped
by the heft of sorrow
poured into the soundhole

marked and scarred
by years of burden
of witness

its character and patina
bear testament
to a genuine soul

cracked and seasoned hands
reach with suffered care
to wrap the fingerboard
in love

callused digits
yellowed by habit
depress taut strands
no longer catgut

blood and bone
grip
connect
sculpting emotions

true life
ensnared in sitka spruce
and spiraled steel

knowing strains rise
chords of loss

rhythmic stomp
stinging verse
of broken promise
failed love

of dirt field
cruel street
back alley
of harsh wisdom

resonate to fill this space
to break my heart
to steal my soul

swept away

~ ~ ~

__________________________

photo rendering above entitled: “Knowing”
rendered by: rob kistner © 2007

Click here to read about more blues on TOAD

Pantoumadness

Pantoumadness

writing pantoums drives me ‘round the bends
my mind’s strung out by poetry’s cruelest deed
this cannot be the horror my muse intends
if blood it wants I willingly concede

my mind’s strung out by poetry’s cruelest deed
if a pantoum’s owed it’s me who’ll make amends
if blood it wants I willingly concede
this crazy form – my mind, it’s turned on end

if a pantoum’s owed it’s me who’ll make amends
frustration chokes me like some poison seeds
this crazy form – my mind, it’s turned on end
my head’s collapsed, my jumbled mind it bleeds

frustration chokes me like some poison seeds
muse tell me – did the poet God’s I offend
my head’s collapsed, my jumbled mind it bleeds
a hopelessness inside me does distend

oh tell me please – did the poet God’s I offend
this cannot be the horror my muse intends
a hopelessness inside me does distend
yes, writing pantoums drives me ‘round the bends

~ ~ ~

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Links to my other 3 Pantoums:
1.) Seabed Sway
2.) Flame Of Learning
3.) Lady Blue

Click below to read more Pantoums at dVerse:

Poetry Forms – The Pantoum

Mercy Cup

Mercy Cup

forgive my scorching insults
that bite and sting
where they sizzle still
blistering my careless tongue
charred by regret

would that you allow me
a sip from your mercy cup
to sooth the searing pain
of bitter words
which should never have been spoken

~ ~ ~

____________________

Click here to discover blame & forgiveness at dVerse:

Blame and Forgiveness

Click below here to read more Quadrilles at dVerse:

Quadrille #74

My Old Red Chair

This was written in my beloved old red chair.

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My Old Red Chair

sun sits low on the winter horizon
the coming night soon will stir
I sit quietly in my old red chair
with warm memories gathered ’round me

forward through the years they’ve come
memories of those I’ve been well to know
been blessed to love, and who’ve loved me
for those now gone beyond – a tender tear

my heart is full, my spirit calm, my life is sweet
I surrender to another year in fate’s embrace
I am grateful for my life, never sought perfection
I have been given so very much for so very long

the sun that rises golden to warm the day
the breeze that wafts soft upon my face
mountains that rise majestic, covered in old growth
the rivers, the lakes, the clear mountain streams

the teeming nature and vital plants
so plentiful on this beautiful earth
my precious children and grandchild
the miraculous moments of their birth

I have felt the power of the mighty ocean
breaking on the boulders ‘neath rugged western cliffs
watched the sun set, coral and golden, into the azure sea
had the love of a wife, and family, to share this all with me

would this evening’s reverie never end
but soon the lingering day will bow its head
as twilight fades I’ll watch this night descend
at 72 – grateful where my life has led

~ ~ ~

”My actual old red chair.”

To enjoy some fine poetry at dVerse, click below:

Ah sweet youth . . .

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____________________________

This is a poem of genuine thankfulness. I turned 72-years-old on February 18th. This is a birthday I am exceedingly lucky and tremendously grateful to have ever reached. I am a male brittle diabetic, average life expectancy, 66 years. My heart also failed in April of 2017. Fortunately I was in the hospital recovering from an angioplasty operation. I am now alive, the result of emergency implantation of a Medtronic Pacemaker. So this is definitely a happy birthday – happy beyond measure. Please permit me to share my deep feelings of gratitude in this poem.

Farther Beyond

Farther Beyond

shadows nod in this dark’ning room
stain silken curtains soaked with gloom
ghosts of our love taunt – nevermore
chained by grief in this gilded tomb

sorrowful darkness does descend
the hands of chilling grief extend
forever’s knocking at the door
losing you I can’t comprehend

I’m drowning in my bitter tears
I am consumed by my worst fears
my soul is broken evermore
as my life’s meaning disappears

barter and pleading stain my lips
slip through my clutching fingertips
scatter useless across the floor
farther beyond your frail life slips

I’m shattered to my very core
it is for mercy I implore
let me delay that open door
to kiss your tender lips once more

~ ~ ~

This is an expanded and revised version of my poem “Far Beyond”. To further increase the imagery in the piece, an additional stanza was added to open the poem, and other minor revisions made. I still wanted there to be believable grief and sorrow, and bargaining – everything that would be a normal part of a deep love relationship when one of the partners departs this earth. At the same time, in the midst of grief, I wanted tenderness. He is distraught, but madly in love still – as he has been for years. This not an easy good bye. I chose the image of the dying rose, because even in its death it holds firmly to that which made it beautiful in life. Just as he tries to hold on to what was beautiful in their relationship. Bitter-sweet!

This poem is 8 syllables per line, exnctly the same as Robert Frost’s “Stopping By A Woods On A Snowy Evening”. The rhyme pattern to my piece here is: AABA CCBC DDBD EEBE BBBB

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Click here to read Original version of this rubaiyat

Click here to read my “light filled” rubaiyat

Check out more great poems at dVerse:

Poetry Forms – The Rubaiyat

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Just for fun, I took all the “B” rhyme lines from the poem above, and made a separate poem. Interesting!?

Once More

ghosts of our love taunt – nevermore
forever’s knocking at the door
my soul is broken evermore
scattered useless across the floor
I’m shattered to my very core
it is for mercy I implore
let me delay that open door
to kiss your tender lips once more

~ ~ ~

DAY 18

Quench Me

“promised pleasures secreted in this urgent kiss”

Quench Me

scorched by beauty’s torrid flame
filled with passion’s yearning
my captive soul is set ablaze
there’s a fire within me burning

before I am but all consumed
quench me with your precious kiss
if I am to be consumed
let it be by bliss

~ ~ ~

____________________

More kissing at dVerse…

Quadrille #73: A Prelude to a Kiss

Click to read “Zak the Protector”, my post to dVerse game night

Chimes Of Twilight

“Sunset” by: Phil Coch

Chimes Of Twilight

I am watching the sun as it sits low on the horizon. The hall clock chimes. It’s the hour of twilight. Dusk is slowly advancing, as the chill of night begins to settle on the land. All my daydreams have gone to bed. I sit in quiet solitude, close by the fire, soothed by its crackling glow. But I am not alone. I’m warmed by the memories that I’ve huddled around me.

From far into the past they drift forward through time. One by one they visit gently. These are memories of those I’ve been blessed to love, and who’ve loved me. I shed a tender tear for each one. There is a sweetness to this reverie, and just a touch of soft regret. In this peaceful moment, my heart is full, my spirit calm.

Had I my way, this evening would never end. But soon these flames will falter, and the lingering embers will die. The hands of that clock sweep me towards nightfall. Darkness will unfold its deep blanket upon me. I’ll soon surrender to time’s warm embrace.

in this fading light
distant memories of love
shine across the years

~ ~ ~

rob kistner 2019

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“Folding Time” by: rob kistner

Find some excellent poetry at dVerse.

Haibun Monday: Solitude

OpenLinkNight #237

Gone Before I Left

Gone Before I Left

I now move in the world unseen
I am transparent
a fading glimpse
caught in the darkened corner
of an ever dimming eye

where once I blocked the sun
I am but a shadow
moving between shadows
at the edge of light
without form

once a voice
that thundered ‘cross the distance
gripped every ear to listen
in so doing was well heard
now hardly but a whisper

my footsteps
shook the ground in passing
now leave but faint a trace
barely form and then are gone
as if I’ve never been

yet here I am
worn thin and weary
not strength to hold the hands of time
not sound to bid a fair goodbye
quickly disappearing

dissolving into the dust of age
gone before I’ve left

~ ~ ~

“Comment on western society’s diminishment of their elders.”

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Check out more invisibility at dVerse:

Poetics: Invisible