•
letter by letter
word by word
I reach out
from fingertips flow feelings
memories alive
spirit full
my heart pours forth
warmed
I share honest emotion
barriers down
longing for connection
• • •
Letters of Love
Month: May 2010
HeartFire
•
the velvet nape
of your slender neck
swept with wisps
of your silken hair
the tender swells
of your pouted lips
blossomed full
and glistening
your quiet sighs
of throaty passion
breathy hushed
in twilight deep
autumn sunrise
crisp and fresh
blushed coral
on your waking smile
sterling moonlight
that fondles you
in naked slumber
‘neath midnight’s window
sunlight’s gold
that falls dreamlike
filtered soft
in old growth forest
unspoiled nature
to far horizons
from where I watch
on mountain’s crest
a 6 series beamer
cool and cruisin’
down 101
on a perfect day
splendid jazz
inspired verse
christmas eve
a soul-felt tear
my child’s joy
a quiet snow
an evening breeze
spiced with cedar
pristine beaches
pacific sunsets
a waterfall
laughing with you
what fires my heart
what stirs my soul
what turns me on
these are a few
• • •
…from my archives, here is a bit more of what turns me on…
Trouble Comes to Dry Gulch
•
you were my truest friend
my steady rock of safety
my captain of escape
you were always there
the amazing man of magic
the hero of the weak
defender of the helpless
my always gentle friend
when the footsteps in the hall
woke me in the night
I would feel you tug my hand
and under we would go
through the secret passage
you kept beneath my bed
to the waiting viking ships
and off to fight the dragons
in the land of snow and castles
carved from clear blue ice
in our robes of fur
we struck with swords of gold
you were very brave
in the face of fear
I knew you would appear
never laughing at my tears
when the grating metal rasp
of door latch in the dark
would bolt me from my sleep
you would have the horses ready
we would thunder off to dry gulch
to wrangle up our posse
save the townfolk from the bad guys
and return when all was calm
you were very swift
in a snap you would arrive
in time to get me out alive
helping me survive
below the ocean we would dive
in your crystal submarine
down to the coral world
marveling at the creatures
we would leave the sub
to swim among the wonders
to dart and spin and float
far from pain and worry
you were very smart
my midnight flight arranger
to rocket us from danger
far from the evil stranger
we would soar to venus
in your silver ship
or to some distant star
and do battle with space monsters
and when they all were slain
we would fly the milky way
circle all the planets
thankful to be weightless
no matter how afraid
I knew that you would find me
knew you’d never judge me
I knew how much you loved me
knew you’d have me back by day break
with the dark night far behind us
and the warmth of welcomed sun
would once again embrace us
the midnight footsteps now are quiet
the ships and rockets sailed away
no more trouble comes to dry gulch
the crystal sub now long in dry dock
I’m not sure I ever thanked you
perhaps took your love for granted
without you I’d never have made it
I never will forget you
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Integrity
•
I have fondled
the fabric of fame
and now you look
for a pattern in my life
a tincture in my clarity
a glitch in my resolve
you seek the proof
that I will forsake decency
doff this cloak of dignity
don the garb of lechery
but your search is futile
no such precedent will you find
my integrity will not crumple
I will not capitulate
not for weighty purse
nor promised power
there is nothing material
can turn my heart from love
• • •
Purse Department Sign
•
never fondle
crumple
or capitulate
strange sign
to be found
in the purse department
proof
there is a glitch
in the pattern of logic
that no tincture
of common sense
can cure
any comparison
to sapient demeanor
is futile
so I doff my robes of reason
and don the garb of lunacy
• • •
Book of Ardor
• In response to the 2nd prompt on the newly opened We Write Poems, this piece was inspired by my listening to the 1974 vinyl record album entitled “Mysterious Traveler”, by Weather Report.
Weather Report was one of the earliest and most influential Jazz-Rock groups. Keyboardist Joe Zawinul and saxophone player Wayne Shorter formed the group in 1971. Both originally members of the Miles Davis’ group, they were joined by the legendary bassist, ,Jaco Pastorius, making Weather Report a milestone group of modern music…
…here is my poem inspired by their music…
Book of Ardor
•
eyes dark and deep as nile nocturne
scorching as nubian sundance
this blackthorn rose
is the secreted passion
the sultry jungle goddess
inscribed in the book of ardor
fired in molten scarlet
woman forged of earthen bronze
ablaze in the sensual dreams
of writhing midnight
she is smoke and flame
the mysterious traveler
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
________________________________
• The beautiful woman in the photo above is Jourdan Dunn
The Key
• I also offer this in response to prompt #116 at One Single Impression…
•
that pools incrementally
in this long
pungent
segmented hallway
there is some safety in the shadows
that linger tight
to the arch walls
so I bolt
through the full moon’s glow
that seeps silvered through the windows
I press myself
against the damp irregular surfaces
that are the stacked-stone
boundary breaks
of this eerie chiseled passage
I pause at each
until I reach the last
I halt
sliding two fingers
of my right hand
into the small pocket of my waistcoat
to confirm that it is still there
I feel the cool brass
of the oddly carved key
relief seasons my trepidation
nothing in my being
wants this dire mission
to which I am shackled
but it is only my hand
on the inscripted dagger
gripped tightly in my left
that can bring an end
to my uncle’s unholy
reign of horror
I am the last surviving member
of our cursed bloodline
so the brutal deed
falls to me
creeping stealthily forward
like a shade on the dank wall
I move cautiously closer
to the iron-laden
dense wood door
of his sleeping chamber
my heart pounding
my diaphram starved for breath
I feel I may pass out
but still I pursue
the evil incarnate
that lies
locked away
in undead repose
suddenly
a noise
immediately behind me
it echoes through these catacombs
pierces my taut raw nerves
and instantly paralyzes me
trembling
I turn
no one there
hushed
I listen intently
no other sounds
save the blood
pulsing as a roar
in my ears
I begin to move
but again
I hear it
panicked
I jerk my head around
and see
in this frozen moment
my stressed mind deduces
the source of the noise
moisture
collecting on the stone ceiling
gathers overhead
into sagging condensation
it released
as a weighty droplet
splattering on the floor
just behind me
with a sharp startling slap
I relax a bit
enough to again draw
tensioned breath
several more labored
careful steps
and I place my hand
gently on the wrought handle
of the immense door
transferring the lethal dagger
to my quivering right hand
I reach
steadily as possible
into my pocket
and withdraw the strange key
it is unnaturally heavy
and seems to emanate
an unearthly energy
I clutch it firmly
fearing if I lose my grip
I will lose my nerve
I guide the key
into the slot
of the ornate handle plate
seating it fully
slowly I begin to turn it
I feel the resistance
as the key’s teeth
engage with the bolt
and begin to grudgingly
draw it from its secure well
just before I have fully retracted it
I pause
my mind racing
blood pressure soaring
overcome by the magnitude
of what I am about to do
no turning back now
this must be done
and I must do it
but I am terrified
still I hesitate
attempting to gain
my much needed composure
I slow my heartbeat
steady my breathing
steel my resolve
and turn the key
its final quarter inch
the lock clicks
the handle releases
and the door unseats inwardly
this is it
fate has dealt the deck
I am prisoner
in this horrible game
I swing the door open
ever so gradually
and step in
toward my destiny…
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Oh Brother!
Presented in response to the May 10th prompt from Big Tent Poetry, which suggested “be playful! Let the sound of the words carry the weight (of the poem)” — so here is my playful poem of sounds…
•
ACHOO!
exploded in the quiet room
followed by a couple loud sniffs
cover your mouth
I blurted in a whisper
before I bonk you on the noggin
he crackled with disdain
clicked the snap on his backpack open
and with a clunk and a clatter
surprisingly retrieved a tissue pack
from the cluttered contents
looking at me like I was cuckoo
he flicked one out
as a second fluttered to the floor
I growled my disapproval
he just giggled
honked his hooter
and hissed defiantly
jangling the keys
he had also pulled out
I knocked them from his hand
back into his backpack
and mumbled at him to hush up
and settle down
he murmured something unintelligible
rattling his pack shut
and plopping it back on the floor
I shushed him again
and started to slowly sizzle
suddenly I hear slurping
as he is sucking a soda
through a straw
splashing the liquid
over the ice
as he swirls and shakes his paper cup
I snap
and shout
shut up
thumping my fists on my knees
suddenly
everyone is eyeing me
I hear the lady next to me
going tsk tsk
like I’m the problem
it was all I could do
not to whip around in my seat
and whack her
yikes I thought
enough is enough
so I hopped to my feet
zipped my coat
grabbed him by the hand
and zoomed us out of there
into the car
slamming the driver’s door
and vrooooom
sped us home
never again I snorted
never again will I take you
little brother
to the movies
he just whipped on his iPod
began humming to his tunes
and ZAP…
flipped me off
• • •
Blue Temple
The image of this plate above, this week’s prompt at Magpie Tales, immediately put me in mind of serenity. Also, while the plate may be Chinese in origin, it also made me think of the ancient Japanese poetic form called tanka.
Tanka are 31-syllable poems that have been the most popular form of poetry in Japan for at least 1300 years. As a form of poetry, tanka is older than haiku, and tanka poems are evocative.
During Japan’s Heian period (794-1185 A.D.) it was considered essential for a woman or man of culture to be able to both compose beautiful poetry and to choose the most aesthetically pleasing and appropriate paper, ink, and symbolic attachment—such as a branch, a flower—to go with it.
Tanka have changed and evolved over the centuries beyond the traditional expressions of passion and heartache, and styles have changed to include modern language — but the form of five syllabic units containing a total of 31 syllables has remained the same.
Each line of a tanka consists of one image or idea. One does not seek to “wrap” lines in tanka, though in the best tanka, the five lines flow seamlessly into one thought or feeling.
This particular visual prompt also sparked my recall of a simple, but wonderful piece of art I discovered a few years back, entitled “Blue Temple†by Vorffy.
So here I present my tanka entitled “Blue Templeâ€, including for your pleasure, the Vorfffy art piece of the same name.
•
birds in the blue sky
sampans on the blue waters
blue temple gateways
serenity is sacred
approach with your heart open
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Why I Write
•
so as not to lose my mind
to prevent my sorrow
from choking the life
from my soul
to know what I really think
to ride the currents of my joy
and laughter
to track my growth
share what I have experienced
shed light on my ignorance
to leave my trace
expose my vulnerability
in hopes others won’t rebuke
banish
or hurt me
but rather see me worthy of mercy
of love
to see me not so unlike themselves
and have pity
because there is an urge
to break the mental silence
to make a din
create a literate clatter
to be certain I am not ignored
forgotten
or misunderstood
because I am sad
I am crazy
I am odd
I am insecure
I am lonely
frightened
cursed
clever
because I am thrilled
full of life
nearing death
desperate to know
confident in my knowledge
because I am entangled
and strangled
by the why of it all
because I can
and so that I might
for all of this
I write
and to survive
I have no choice
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
In A Heartbeat
•
is filled with memories
sweet anticipation
knowing the warmth of your hello
the strength of your handshake
your fond embrace
the stretch down I-5
we’re laughing and singing
miles zipping by
till we spy your exit
then west toward the coast
a quiet buzz of excitement
fills the car
at last we catch sight of your vineyards
as we crest big rock ridge
then the left turn
down your valley road
so beautiful
so familiar
hands on the wheel
I anticipate every bend and rise
every dip
exhilarating
as I navigate the gorgeous vistas
the sound of our tires
as they trundle ‘cross
the narrow wooden bridge
that fords your stream
boulder’d and crystal clear
as it tumbles and falls
brisk from mountain snow-pack
coming round
we see the corridor
of faithful old-growth firs
stepping back for us
inviting our return
the regal mountains reign
high above
granting us safe passage
boughs bend
branches sway
celebrating that we are back
when your gate comes into view
swung open in welcome
it’s left up your gravel drive
the pebble and crushed rock
crunch and clatter in stony rustle
as we traverse your hill
to see you and Michelle
cuddled on your porch swing
your family pouring down the steps
into the yard
beaming bright eyed
arms open for embrace
six hours and 300 miles
separate us
but the journey always goes by
in a heartbeat
the road to a friend’s house is never long
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Boxes – Contemplation in 3 Parts
•
like crows in fallow fields
they pick clean
the bones of my recall
bones against the cruel clay
of an arid barren mind
bones spilled from soul boxes
in which I’d desperately collected
the scarred and damaged pieces
of my broken dreams
dreams now parched and withered
dried brittle in the coarse winds
of my dire confusion
their promises scratched and raspy
slowly slipping unintelligible
into the chaos and cacophony
of the crows in fallow fields
• • •
a box within more boxes
so deeply buried
by the years of failed dreams
you must not lose your wonder
• • •
a box locked inside your heart
lost in the rubble
of years of broken promise
you can find it if you look
• • •
Stowaway
•
with great caution
in halting measured step
I creep from sanctuary dark
to leave this place of safety
to sidle in uncertainty
into the chafing
cutting light
head bowed
spirit crushed
tensed for flight
emerging
visible again
though barely
poised to recoil
from any sudden emotion
long now in hiding
stowed away in sorrow
fragile as a newborn bird
unsteady as a fawn
just as frightened
as unsure
my wounded soul
took refuge in aloneness
dug in
resolved to disappear
become invisible
perhaps to die
the weight of life too great
simple breaths
a considered labor
but still I drew them
hesitantly
long I lay
shallow breathing
unwashed
unfed
resigned to simply vanish
from this hopeless realm
despaired I would never find
a reason to go on
yet slowly I emerge
but please
no impulsive expectations
permit me slow and careful evolution
from my chrysalis of anguish
let me find my way
back into the light
from my place of hiding
offer only patience
and safe distance
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Mind’s Eye
•
with my mind’s eye
I watch the flow of people
the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes
I see wan faces of unsmiling lips
their void curves denounce this night
yet unseen
is the gossamer curtain’s fall
that defines their soul’s duality
the divergent reality
through which truth stumbles blind
to move in the world rough as a rope
taut as every promise made
frayed as wisdom
leaned in whispered from behind
grab at time like dropped money
I might learn something tonight
if someone will release the light
so I can shine like a child
who likes ice cream most of all
this child reads old mens’ minds
and notices the shoes
the belts all made of leather
I feel a shiver of sad imbalance
a confliction in my soul
so I will watch the shoes
and practice non-attachment
because I can
but pieces of me
stick to whoever gets too close
you may have seen me
silhouetted against the sky
the coldest night in January
howling with the frozen moon
then moon and I
sneak through fate’s construct
among cages of studs & trusses we run
from room to imaginary room
the whole world close enough to touch
we eat a midnight lunch of damaged bread
seasoned by caution and foreign lands
with onion’d thoughts layered deep
show mercy
peel back the layers
peel me away thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul
I hope I am not ugly in your sight
these thoughts become too heavy to hold
to tough to chew or swallow
my thoughts
bone-white lies of morality plays
open for you to peek
hope they are not ugly in your sight
hope they do not make you weep
as you peel back all the layers
onion’d thought layers
held fast and firm
like a carapace
to which I’m stitched and welded
and can no more leave than you can truly enter
they tie me down sometimes
but sometimes barely so
inescapable optimism in my bare-bones grin
flashes in the brittle moonlight
a stranger comes to where I sit
to see
his stare blinds the stars from my eyes
behind his fey smile
his radar dreams scan the forgotten creases
the clandestine getaways in my mind
standing over
he peers down with probing gaze
one of us
will learn a thing or two this night
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
____________________________________________
…an edited re-write of an earlier draft…
Hands of Neptune
•
like the disembodied
hands of Neptune
reaching from a rocky confine
breaking surface
into the watery realm
seeking
grasping
needing
but entombed
in a glassened globe
a crystal cage
cruelly shut away
from that which is most desired
contact
connection
prisoner
in brutal isolation
banished
even from the lesser gods
condemned eternally
to never know
the redemption of touch
• • •
On the Occasion of Our 21st Anniversary
(dedicated to my wife Kathy)
•
L ight snow fell
midst the balloons’ ascent
as our new life began
21 years ago
how beautiful you were
as we stood
surrounded by family and friends
we did not know what lay ahead
on our journey of life
we knew only of our love
and our desire
to make the journey together
now here we stand
more that two decades down that road
so many memories
so much that was exciting
so much unexpected
some we wish had never happened
but my journey with you
long may it continue
behind us
laughter and tears
rough road and smooth
so much to discover still ahead
together
we can make our future even better
we but need to know that’s true
as we knew it then
that day I stood with you
21 years ago
and shared my love for you
with those we loved
promising to stand by you
through all that was ahead
and here am I today
still by your side
still captivated by you
still in love with you
here I will remain
through all of our today’s
and all of our tomorrow’s
I was then
am now
and will forever be
your soulmate
awkward as I can be at times to show it
from my heart – I want you to know it
I do love you