Month: October 2018

The Taste

This poem is as a 21st century haibun hybrid, and just as a traditional haibun, it combines prose with haiku. In this case 2 haiku. This particular piece features an opening free verse prose stanza, complete in its thought. A closing free verse prose stanza, also complete in its thought. Then the 5 middle free verse prose stanzas, which could stand alone as a free verse poem. The overall piece flows as a whole. The two haiku are both in italics. It is offered in response to the November 26th prompt at dVerse.
 

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The Taste

~

It was an embrace
I’d wished had been endless
at our tearful farewell
your body supple and warm
pulsing with life

lips lush as cognac
open softly to kisses
urgently linger

the taste of your kiss on my lips
I passed through security
turned and fixed on your gaze
praying it was not the last time
I’d look into your beautiful eyes

I wandered dazed down the ramp
to the jet that would take me
to the fury of hell
I locked your face of love
deep in my heart

That cherished image
proved my grasp on sanity
through two years of horror
through the sting of separation
the bitter taste of war
the foul stench of death

I return this day
facing reality at 30,000 feet
the salt of sadness on my cheeks
bitter on my lips

not of my making
but I feel the guilt of war
I’m frightened to see
to touch you again
but I burn to do so
I’ve been waiting so long

so different now
my hands angry with bloodshed
innocence is lost

I fear a kiss
from my killer’s mouth
will forever defile
your precious lips
lush as sweet cognac
that day we parted.

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2018

  • NOTE: this piece is written with my deepest respect for the men and women who are still being sent into the teeth of hell to fight, suffer, and sometimes die. This is a heartfelt thank you for what they endure, and a quiet tear for what is so often sadly lost.
     
    _____________

    Imelda at dVerse asked us to address “waiting”. Waiting is a terrible component of war. Those in combat waiting every terrifyingly tense moment after tense moment, praying to remain safe and alive – and hoping they never need to kill someone. Then the soldiers excrutiating wait to go home. And the families, loved ones, and friends painfully waiting, not knowing if there loved one or friend will make it home. War is terribly unsettling waiting, interrupted from time to time, by pure unadulterated hell!

    More waiting at dVerse:

    https://dversepoets.com/2018/11/26/haibun-monday-waiting/

    • Token

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    Token

    ~

    the words you’ve spoken
    have left my heart broken
    you say you regret it
    ask me to forget it
    I feel your apology token

    you swear you love me
    place no one above me
    how can that be true
    when you say what you do
    leaving less and less of me

    Now in tradtional iambic…

    the words that you have just spoken
    have left my tender heart broken
    you say that now you regret it
    ask me to please just forget it
    but your apology’s token

    you swear to the stars you love me
    that you place no one above me
    but how can that really be true
    when you say the things that you do
    words that leave less and less of me

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2018

    ____________

    Today’s dVerse prompt, from Grace, asks that we compose a Quintain. In Spanish they’re called Quintilla. I have stacked two Quintillas here, referred to in Spanish, as a Copla Real. Click below to see more at dVerse.

    Poetry form: English & Spanish Quintain

    The Nature of Fire

    China Fire

     
    The Nature of Fire

    ~

    here
    on the farthest point of the peninsula
    an office building is burning
    ignited by a single match
    careless or criminal
    not yet known

    inconceivable
    that such a structure
    can be so wholly engulfed
    but the fire was too fierce
    and the distance too great
    for rescue

    but what of the fury
    in that single first flame
    to have leapt so viciously to consume
    to ravage
    to devastate so absolutely

    like the rage of a repressed
    and violated being
    too long held down
    unjustly deprived
    confined

    all potential denied
    where there is great potential

    spirit squelched
    where there is great spirit

    sometimes a whole civilization can be dying
    until finally a single incident
    the spark
    unleashes a righteous inferno
    that has no bounds

    all around the good people gather
    stare in disbelief
    how is this possible
    out here
    out here on the peninsula
    not realizing that such power to combust
    to blaze so brilliantly
    can only be suppressed for so long

    it’s always there
    ready to explode
    like the fury in the head of that match
    and when the smoulder becomes full flame
    all will burn
    out here on the peninsula
    and in here
    at the still and protected center

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    revised © 2018

    ____________

    Get fired up at dVerse…

    Fire Up that Creativity–dVerse Poetics

    Skyfire

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    Skyfire

    ~

    the sunset gun is readied in his grip
    quicksilver moon has set a hurried course
    the golden orb has wearied from its trip
    all is poised, his eyes fixed on the source

    gaia reaches gently, into quiet space
    while he locks her broad horizons in his sight
    gaia pulls a veil of stars slowly ‘cross her face
    but he has one last task before its night

    he must set the sky ablaze, then he can sleep
    broad strokes of coral orange and crimson red
    the pattern must be bold, the color deep
    so he aims the sunset gun, and blasts it overhead

    in a brilliant flash the heavens light with fire
    in rich and vivid hues, as if burning with desire
    the gumasters succeeded but tomorrow he returns
    to rise the morning sun, till then the nightsky burns

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2018

    ____________

    Get fired up at dVerse…

    Fire Up that Creativity–dVerse Poetics

    That’s Stretching It!

    As this is Thanksgiving Day in America, the undeclared celebration of overeating, thought I’d respond in kind to today’s dVerse prompt, from Grace, that we compose a Quintain. I have stacked two Quintains, in the spirit of a limerick. By definition, a humorous, frequently bawdy or tasteless verse, often of three long and two short lines rhyming aabba, popularized by Edward Lear.

    YOU WERE WARNED! This is tasteless humor, but not meant to offend large individuals, as I am myself, but rather to suggest to folks like myself, to exhibit some dignity, and not go parading around in public in Spandex. As you can see from my friend pictured here – it is certainly not flattering.

    surplus

     
    That’s Stretching It!

    ~

    it’s amazing what spandex can bind
    no matter how huge the behind
    they mash and they they jam it in
    they grunt and they cram it in
    it’s enough to make you want to go blind

    then they stuff in their gigantic belly
    looks just like a balloon full of jelly
    then off they do waddle
    thinkin’ they look like some model
    to buy chocolate ice cream at the deli

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2018

    Poetry form: English & Spanish Quintain

    A Clearing

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    A Clearing

    ~

    often when you’re away
    a calm settles over me
    I’m filled with a warmth
    a peace
    a joy that is my love for you

    the storm clouds of anger
    part
    the fog of life’s distractions
    dissipates
    the veil of pride
    of insecurity
    lifts

    I see with great clarity
    how real
    my love for you
    how true
    my bond of fidelity
    how remarkable
    our relationship
    how certain
    I would give my life for you

    in these precious moments
    emotions overwhelm me

    I vow I will share with you
    the depth of these feelings
    holding nothing back
    baring all

    then that fog creeps back
    I am again shrouded by insecurity
    by frail bruised ego

    courage stumbles
    precious opportunity fades
    expressions of love falter
    foolishly
    I fall mute

    so my love
    forever see these words
    as a clearing
    where you alone can visit
    to be nurtured

    a private
    wonderful place
    you alone can go
    to truly know
    these treasures in my heart

    ____

    rob kistner © 2018

    Hedone’s Daughter

  • WARNING! For adult readers only!

    •  

    loves-serenade

     

    Hedone’s Daughter

    ~

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

    straplened ankles fragile turned
    stiletto’d rise
    on carpet soft
    emblazened vixen
    forward bent
    availed so boldly
    flush with craving

    graceful face
    brazen aglow
    comely raised and tilted back
    my fingers tangled in your hair
    lifting firm
    yet luscious slow

    swept away in lustful swoon
    forearms rest on velvet sheets
    eyes aflame in sapphire need
    blatant in your fetched seduction

    Hedone’s daughter lush with Spring
    smouldering
    in golden light
    that folds upon you soft as satin
    ‘cross nape of neck
    arched silk desire

    down glistening back
    that tempting tapers
    to the tender
    warm and sultry
    wonderland for fingertips
    to touch
    and tease
    and tantalize

    to explore
    your quivering body
    soul-addictive
    luscious
    grand
    divinely-pleasing sculpted vessel
    brought forth by Aphrodite’s hand

    virgin fruit swells full and ripe
    flesh silhouette to hypnotize
    enticing in the candle’s flicker
    fondled by my hungry eyes

    they stroke and tweak
    the blossomed berries
    that burst
    engorged with passion’s heat

    that taunt my tongue to twirl ’round
    my teeth to nip in playful tug
    draw to my lips
    now lewdly moist
    to take
    and taste in eager suckle

    willful hands
    of pleasured probing
    wrap slender waist
    then slowly slide
    ‘cross pleading hips
    of sensuous rise
    to fall into erotic folds
    molded from the charms of Venus

    ’round dual swells of burning myth
    that writhe
    atop two lathen’d stems
    long and lithe
    as liquid love
    turned by pleasure’s gloried angels
    tempered in a sacred fire

    stretched taut
    raised high on tips of toes
    proud
    defined
    and goddess buff

    enough to make one
    want to stuff
    to thrust and thrust
    in randy lust
    ’til passion’s seed
    has turned to dust

    and wanton
    carnal
    flames
    are snuffed

    spring’s sweet madness
    full rebuffed

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 2018)

    _____________________

  • candle photo entitled “Lovers” by: Bolshevixen

  • photographer of couple embracing unknown

  • Click to read more dVerse poems of desire

    • 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

    • Nubian Goddess

    Today for dVerse Poetics, Anmol (HA) asked us to explore desire. I opted to be inspired by sensuous music. This piece was inspired by listening to my 1974 vinyl record album entitled “Mysterious Traveler”, by Weather Report. On of the most sensuous albums ever recorded. It sets the imagination ablaze!


    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 of desire inspired by their music…




     
    Nubian Goddess

    ~

    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 © 2018

    ________________________________

  • The beautiful woman in the photo above is Jourdan Dunn

  • Click to read more dVerse poems of desire

  • “Scarlet Woman” by: Weather Report

  • “Birdland” by: Weather Report

    • Bloody Sue

    bloodysue-web.jpg

     

    Bloody Sue

    ~

    Gather close so you might hear
    A tale of terror, a tale of fear
    Of a vigilante from beyond the grave
    Only justice did this spirit crave
    You may choose to doubt my word
    But know damned well this all occurred

    A vengeful maiden dressed in red
    7 men lured, 7 men dead
    7 men drawn to this comely miss
    7 souls lost to her lethal kiss

    A modern legend is Bloody Sue
    Her deeds of terror are bold and true
    Was she from hell or heaven’s gate
    It’s certain her victims earned their fate

    The first, the banker, a crooked man
    Stole dreams of others with his evil plan
    To own the world, to possess the lot
    Now all that’s his is a dead man’s plot
    Found with coins choked down his throat
    Clutched in his hand a bloody note
    “You greedy bastards, this could be you
    Remember well!”, signed Bloody Sue

    The second, the lawyer, a prideful sort
    Lied and cheated to win in court
    And bragged of his dishonest way
    Until violence marked his final day
    Found one morning with bashed-in head
    A bloody gavel lay on his bed
    “Bludgeoned here for his lies and scandal!”
    Read Sue’s note, wrapped ’round the handle

    The third, the bishop, a man of lust
    Molested innocent’s, betrayed their trust
    Kept a journal of his lurid deeds
    A trophy to all his prurient needs
    Found on his pulpit with a bloody lap
    His private parts in his bishop’s cap
    “Beware vile predators throughout this land!”
    Sue had carved in the bishop’s hand

    Fourth was the baker, a gluttoness fool
    Treated his workers horribly cruel
    Paid wages that left an empty plate
    While he gorged himself – he ate and ate
    One day at the bakery’s opening hour
    He was found dead in a vat of flour
    Across the vat, bold and big,
    In chocolate icing, Sue wrote “pig!”

    Then the lazy chief of the town’s police
    Unsolved cases filled his valise
    Crime and violence everywhere
    While he snoozed in his office chair
    One day shots rang loud and clear
    Sue riddled the chief from ear to ear
    “Get another chief, get this damned work done!”
    Said the note from Sue, found by the gun

    The office gossip, and his jealous way
    Spread lies and rumors on the phone all day
    His envy the ruin of many good names
    Destroying lives with his vicious games
    Sue used his phone to strangle him
    And left a voice mail dire and grim
    “To all who ruin a reputation
    You too will die from strangulation!”

    Last… the radio talk-show host
    Spreading propaganda, coast to coast
    Pawn of a racist politician
    Thought he was above suspicion
    Electrocuted on his live broadcast
    Sue dealt justice hard and fast
    She was heard to say as hot sparks flew
    “Beware you haters, I’ll fry you too!”

    So that’s the story of Bloody Sue
    Believe it or not, that’s up to you
    A brutal beauty in scarlet cape
    From her vengeful hands there’s no escape
    She will draw from you your final breath
    If she marks you with her kiss of death

    Some say a ghost who haunts this earth
    Others claim an angel, of heavenly birth
    But all agree there’s one thing true

    If you’re a son-of-a-bitch,
    She’ll come for you

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2008

    __________

    collage at top: “Scarlett Lady”by: rob kistner © 2008