Month: December 2020

what was the fire
that burned so bright
and raged so fierce
as to consume complete

that in its heat
and ferocity
could not sustain
your tenderness of youth
until it became
much too much
for you to bear

yet still I hear
your silken voice
rising
to joy
to freedom
to love

to lust and longing
to heartache
to impatience
to immortality

your soulful siren sound
calling from the rooftops
over new york city

so seductive
the breathless passion
the bliss
and sorrow
of bittersweet innocence

when your wonder
stirred to every mystery
and your spirit lit
to every spark
igniting the fury in your soul

so brightly it burned
filled with red yellow honey
sassafras and moonshine
in a roaring sweet blindness
an inferno of creativity

ultimately
to leave you spent
at the stony end

and so
crying angel
I think of you
sweet songstress

remembering

rob kistner © 2020

you were there
the dismissive femme fatale
in this final edit

you took his cues
took his keys
took his shoes
took his leave
took his heart…

…took him apart

you took him for a fool

it wasn’t you didn’t want him
you said
you simply saw yourself
in a different movie
with a different ending

one that saw you
leave quietlyy alone
through the garden
alive with the fragrance of roses
and the joys of the lilly

and you said “I’d like, too,
to plant the sweet alyssum
that smells like honey
and peace”

and in this peaceful quiet
there would be
no long farewells
no broken hearts
at least
not yours

and the abandoned man
in the leather chair
had my face

had no expectations
made no demands
held you responsible
for nothing
nothing

and the night lark sang
and a silver tear
fell hard as steel
from his crystal’d cheek
which you collected in a sterling box
to toss into the freezing sea
for you had no need for tears
no need

you’d rolled the dice
but the bones was loaded

and you left the table
cashed in your winnings
climbed the winding stairs
silk purse in hand
his heart in your pocket
to place it at midnight
on your balcony rail
to watch it wither in the moonlight

he had no need for it
now
nor did you
anymore

nor most certainly
did you

no need

this castle is most ominous
since becoming Overlord of the Realm
Zwénne has rejected our father’s example
as our father rejected him and his ways
no joy warms the hallways, or towers
this long proud and mighty old structure
now a soulless abode of dark magic

it has become cold and foreboding
a nest for perverse wing’d changlings
rumored deadly for those that dare enter
but I know they are not just rumors
there is undoubtedly a murderous evil
that dwells within its walls
raging jealousy — seething and vicious

since conjuring the spirit
of Döxys, the blood beast
and having been thus possessed
Zwénne has become bloodthirsty
mindlessly violent and cruel
now a ruthless predator
whom I have come to slay

would that this task were not mine
but I have been charged herewith
by the supreme council of wizards
Zwénne is my fallen elder brother
and by decree, under this 3rd moon
in the presence of his perverse court
by my hand alone, he must die

no turning back now, this must be done
and I must do it, but I am terrified
I hesitate at the heavy castle door
attempting to gain much needed composure
I slow my heartbeat, steady my breathing
I lift the iron latch, the lock clicks
the massive door unseats inwardly

this is it, fate has dealt the cards
I am both prisoner and executioner
trapped hopelessly in this horrible plot
I search my soul to find the courage
to take the life of my own flesh & blood
I swing the door open ever so gradually
eyes darting, mind racing, heart pounding

I step in…

the hall clock chimes
it’s the hour of twilight

the chill of night settles

I sit warm in my inglenook
serene in the solitude
for I’m not alone

your sweet memory’s
come to visit

rob kistner © 2020

I see soaring ramparts
of sky-piercing mountains
forested tier upon tier
with enormous sitka spruce

scattered brewers
known as the weeping spruce
the most beautiful of the conifer
whose branches in summer
display sunlight
as a jeweler’s velvet
showcases a gem

and always beautiful fae Lauma
the earthen forest spirit
clad benevolent in glorious old growth
conifer robe — rich and regal green

she whispers
in wind-stirred
lawson cypress
towering ponderosa pine
and douglas fir

her enchantment
wafts down emerald climbs
to brush softly my cheek
in brisk spritely breeze

a heady fresh bouquet
of invigorating conifer
dashed tantalizingly
with tangerine-scented white fir

a fragrance rivaled only
by the loamy sweet spice
of the rough-tufted red cedar

and eternal the forest fae Lauma
clad benevolent in glorious old growth
conifer robe — rich and regal green
hair of silken white-spun cloud

the dogwood’s brilliant leaves
big-leaf maples
pendulous western maples
tight ranks of dark-green sadler oak

the golden shimmer
and crisp crackle
of white-barked aspen

these are the mountains
and forests of my oregon home
where I will someday return

to dance with the bewitching fae Lauma
eyes blue-green as the realm she dwells
clad benevolent in glorious old growth
conifer robe — rich and regal green
to share whispers of the mighty wood
and reclaim my high-mountain heart

now I have only
sweet recall

even in the faded light
of distant memory
these visions leave me breathless

rob kistner © 2020

so deliver me to snow-melt high-mountain waters
sweep me away in their crystal’d blue streams
tumble me joyous in their rolling white rapids
sail me over a waterfall grand as my dreams

now I’ve grown weary — my leave I will take
to rest in the peace of a deep mountain lake

rob kistner © 2020

pieces of one’s soul
peeled away
for the sake of the cherished

a duality of dark and light
positive and negative
that haunts the reaching out
and clutch of profaned hands
which inflict raw wounds

that also blesses the sacred touch
to sooth the burning bruise
and heal the unseen damage

a rootedness in the need to nurture

in the looking one-eyed blind
to see that which is not visible
to the unfocused seer

madness engulfs the heart
of the flat-light sighted
obscuring truth

the radiance of clarity
envelopes the sainted
illuminating the wondrous

voids of spirit
marked and remembered
are besought in the leaving time
at the crossing over
to the dream
or hard justice

I am here but for you
until all that remains are bones
taken up to strike down menace
that which means you harm

devour me complete
in validation of my path
consummation of my holy fate

I am your nourishing waters
I am your vessel of deliverance
I am your song of ascension

rob kistner © 2020

rob kistner © 2020

approaching my new home
it was the first thing I noticed
the fasciating weathered old window

time after time
I watched through that window
as dad returned home from work
his face chill from a winter evening
or warm from the setting sun
always wonderfully gritty

day’s end stubble
would scrub my cheeks
as he’d gather me in his arms
coming through the door
factory permeating his khaki shirt

I love that puzzlingly pleasing smell

soon as he was in the house
he’d grab me up
tumble me to the floor
lift me high in the air
to fly
right out that magical window

I could always fly with my dad’s support

and the time he shielded me
behind his strong legs
as the neighbor’s rabid collie
came at me so suddenly
snarling at me through that old window

I was frightened but felt so safe

and those magical moments
as a child
every christmas eve
dad would take me by the hand
and walk me uptown
into our little burg
through the brisk air
under the bright lights of the season
and into each cozy store

everyone was celebrating
shop owners heaping candy
and assorted goodies on me

then we’d head back home
as we approached
I saw our christmas tree
somehow magically decorated
sparkling through that window

it was a christmas miracle
every year

santa had come
while we were gone

I was always confused
by the multiple santas
we would encounter on our little walk

but I was never confused
about my father’s love

then there’s the time
he introduced me to hardball
broke a pane in that old window

his rubbing away the tears
first time
I was hit by a pitch

and when he taught me to catch
then throw a football

the moment he handed me the keys
to his classic Chrysler
parked right outside that window
shiny — and now mine

when he cried at my graduation
and again at my marriage
and still again
at the birth
of each of his three grandchildren

I see so many incredible memories
floating toward and past me
gazing out that window

so many

a lifetime of love
captured and framed
by that weathered old window

dad lies quietly in bed now
under that worn old window
love folds frail on his timeworn face
and gentle tears

I add mine
falling
mixing with his
as I stand over him
leaning down to kiss his cheek
helpless
watching him go

sun embracing softly on his weary form
through that old window

I linger to kiss his stubbled face
one last time

“goodbye dad, you saved my life!”

rob kistner © 2020

I have set out now past noonday
the joy of discovery always palpable
when traveling in the wilderness
my senses saturated and alive

there falls a deep satisfaction
that permeates this afternoon
my soul is full my mind is clear
my heart bursts — overflowing

I journey until dusk descends
heady with wondrous expectation
my stride is smooth and steady
into the golden downing sun

early shadows fall soft upon me
as vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes ’round my shoulders
splendid calm envelops me

yet there are other shadows
strange distractions
that disrupt my moments
they come quite unannounced

with still far to go
I am eager to journey
drawn by the beauty
the rising moon in sunset

into the evening breeze
I venture onward
vivid ambers and corals
spread across the horizon

again the shadows shift
dull confusion finds me
I lose my pace and focus
to draw up momentarily

nagging concern
disquiets me
a stab of panic
pierces my solace

bewilderment grips
holds me
uncomfortably
I must return home

a cloud of frustration
sweeps over me
obscuring briefly
my destination

then the fog wafts
and again I see
across the veiled valley
my hearth & home

but I wander
again I lose the path
as the mist settles
like a shroud

twilight is coming
much too quickly
and my concern
mounts gravely

a gathering fear
gnaws inside
I’ll not make home
before this night

I am afraid
to lose this light
I am afraid
to lose my way
I am afraid
this wilderness

I am afraid

rob kistner © 2020