A Knock at the door before it enters my room. It let it self in and makes my personal space it’s room.
“What are you” I ask.
No reply.
Wings on its back so it must fly.
Is it injured.
To my surprise.
It reply’s “I am your confidence, your love and your compassion. Help me fly again.”
I look at my reflection. To find I am my insecurities.
I swallow the pills...
Something died within me
Bailey Jun 13
Why hope
I think about it a lot
To much I'm sure
Both words
Separate
Or together
So similar
But different
Why hope
For love
For kindness
For life
When to hope
For dreams
For laughter
For love
Why hope
rob kistner Jun 11
_

my god
big as a house
great redwood
broken in repose

tangled root like tentacled mouth
ripped raw from breast of mother earth

massive girth
prone you still stand tall

and look there
look way down there

my son stood shoulder high to me
before he scaled
then strode your mammoth length
at rest on this forest floor

he's but a flailing fleck of color now

so small
so far away
yet still astride your hulking mass

mighty redwood
giant in a land of giants
soaring through the great canopy
of this majestic forest
thrusting skyward in your day,

and yet
you've fallen

shallow rooted I observe
but deep enough to proudly stand
this thousand years

you did not fall unnoticed
in your thunderous final bow

so sad
your end

though all around you
new life
sprouting even from your fallen form

in this lush calm green
of nature's vast cathedral
the eternal pulse of life goes on

not unaware of your misfortune
but certainly undaunted

yes
you have fallen

spire becomes spawn

and life goes on

_


rob kistner ©  1994
(revised 2018)
This is a contemplation and a memory of a trip to the Redwood National Forest near Eureka CA. My oldest child, my daughter, and my 2 sons were with kathy and I. Aaron, my oldest son, 17 at the time, was the child running along the gargantuan truck of the fallen redwood. In less than a year, Aaron was killed in a tragic auto accident. This poem holds special meaning for me.
Rox Jun 1
As drops descend from his face, rolling past his heart to be soaked up by whoever might pass underneath

Blanketed in a wispy layer of mist
he grips her hand tightly

Wanting to get up from the place he’s been anchored to for so long but not ready to
The dull sinking feeling that resides over him, pushing him further and further deeper

into the surface

These absent buildings clinging around only setting him in his place,
at the edge of perception

What is left of his mind begins to drift, leaching out like a plague of activity across a circuit board

And exactly like a switch, he finds something she hid inside of him
An incendiary note, left
Time itself seems to stop for a moment,
sparking from him

Setting her soul ablaze
so vibrantly scorching her existence

And so, I stand
In witness

Of such an ethereal sight
and see
just the smallest details

where drops turn to streams and paralysis turns into a rigid tremble

Managing to unclasp his hands from where they were
he shivers

Placing his hands onto the pavement
unfamiliarity seeping out his fingertips and spilling

the snow melting softly around him

Unknowing of where exactly I am, he tries to compose himself
But he doesn’t notice that his legs have gone unused for so long

Struggling to stand like a newly born lamb he stumbles
thankful for the absence of those buildings

His breath unconcealed in the spiritless atmosphere
Caution in the wind veiled by snowflakes

falling

Just like before, the sheets of ice lay atop, varnishing what seems to be a landscape of optimism
Obscured by crimson flesh and soft chimes of melancholy that resonates within him,

a sun rises

He begins to stand
The mist circling his feet, trailing him as he makes his way beyond the buildings

Beyond the colourless town
Beyond his travesty
His heart still so sharply yearning for what once was but couldn’t be
to something more

And here I stand
A distance so short

away from him

in an entirely parallel world
Watching him as he takes the first steps out of the mist
closer, and closer

he steps

his face, as cold as ice
detached from this harbour
transcending gradually into consciousness

I decide to put my reservations aside and reach out for him
the light piercing through his lifeforce
irises so profound

an abyss of magnificence
alluding to what could only be the unfaltering desire of inception
the temptations that captivate him
releasing him from where he once stood

and so he realises;
The snow is no longer dripped with red
and it is instead

an eternal springtime in his mind

enlightened
the new surroundings
curing him from the dangers of his thought
beaming with new hope

and for the first time

I see in clarity

an angels wings repair itself
from the depths of grief and desolation.

and then I weep.

For nothing could have prepared me for the sight of this journey.
(the end of a beginning to another)
lovejunkie May 29
Awake from dreams
Of loving you,
And hate the morning sun,
For you wait in the twilight,
And still whisper, Lover, come...

Back to the place we started,
And to where our love began;
A place within our dreams
Made of the Sandman's sand.


ღ ღ ღ

Resting across the theta waves
Of Ocean Memory,
I sail to it each night,
And its warm walls shelter me,

But with morning castle crumbles,
All the sand is washed away,
And I curse myself a fool
To think that it could ever stay.

ღ ღ ღ

I no longer know you,
though its now you that tries to sight;
Small comforts come with slumber,
We're still in love come each twilight...
"You grow in sleep, and live your fuller life in you dreaming.
For all your days are spent in thanksgiving
For that which you have received
In the stillness of the night."
                                                  - Kahlil Gibran
Jay Dayz May 23
Fallen trees
fallen leaves
seasons pass
people leave

Never free
I can't see
I am blind
no more me
Jay Dayz May 20
Everyone thinks you are a demon-
because of your dark wings and cold heart.
But they don't realize that you are only a fallen angel,
broken and lost,
cast out and alone.

People look too much at appearances,
and they don't look
for what is really hidden deep inside.
A little draft I did based on my characters Alex and Jonathan. This i s supposed to be written form Alex to Jonathan.
Cherries and poppies
raspberries and strawberries
and fallen red leaves,
a burning memory.
nim May 7
All of a sudden, everything made sense;
My guardian angel
Must be a fallen one
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