Reaper Groom

A MURDER MYSTERY

I’ve always been fascinated by who-done-it’s and classic horror stories, so I was inspired to write this piece with a ‘retro’ gothic feel.

Lyle, the socially awkward, seemingly milquetoast villain of this tale has a ‘killer’ obsession. A shy, mild-mannered church organist; he is ‘changed’ into a murdering menace — by loneliness and rejection.

BE WARNED: This poem, and the collage I created to accompany it, are both a bit graphic — in a noir-tongue-in-cheek sort of way.

I invite you to enjoy, “Reaper Groom”.

reaper-groom500d.jpg

collage above entitled: “Thief of Hearts” — by: rob kistner © 2008

___________

Reaper Groom

~

backlit by a lightening flash
a figure scurried ‘cross the yard
between the gravestones he did dash
head down low, and running hard

dressed in cape of velvet black
he seemed to vanish from our sight
but then we saw him double back
he would not escape tonight

elusive as a demon’s shadow
ghost-like — he could disappear
but no more, this scourge of sorrow
finally, we were drawing near

surround and capture, was the plan
the hounds had tracked him to this place
this had to be our wanted man
though none had seen his evil face

we were sworn to bring him down
bloodthirsty was this man — and cruel
he’d caused such horror in our town
if he escaped, we’d look the fool

the target of our townsfolk’s hate
he must be caught this beast of doom
he’d killed so many brides to date
we knew him as the “Reaper Groom”

he took the lives of countless bride
murdered them by dark of night
once betrothed they couldn’t hide
death was sure to be their plight

marriage took an awful blow
as one by one our maidens fled
our bachelors’ ire began to grow
there were no wives to share their bed

this had to stop — no maids for men
it wasn’t natural, wasn’t right
this curse would never be again
it would end, right here, tonight

we had him cornered in our net
he’d not escape our clutch this time
he owed this town an awful debt
he’d pay quite dearly for his crime

we closed in slowly, with great care
we’d make sure he couldn’t run
we deftly caught him in our snare
and gathered round him, every one

we took him roughly in this place
and chained him to a stony block
and brought a torch to light his face
then gasped, and staggered back in shock

this couldn’t be, not this poor fool
this shy man of timid smile
we sought a monstrous evil ghoul
this was bashful lonely Lyle

Lyle played organ every Sunday
and lead the hymns, as we would sing
our fiend escaped, we’d get him one day
and when we did, for sure he’d swing

it wasn’t Lyle, it was another
Lyle was not the type, you see
Lyle lived with his aging mother
so we’d set lonely Lyle free

but Lyle spoke up in quiet voice
don’t turn me lose, please, I forbid it
you see you really have no choice
cause I’m your man, that’s right, I did it

I killed these maidens everyone
I’ve charged this town a heavy toll
but my spree is over, I won’t run
this weigh’s too heavy on my soul

sentenced to hanging at his trial
Lyle was shortly going to die
looking sadly stern at Lyle
the judge inquired of him why

had he slain all this beauty
made so many families cry
he felt an answer was his duty
so this was Lyle’s cold reply

for many years I’d been denied
until my soul was heavy laden
god knows how often I had tried
to win the love of a fair young maiden

I was so consumed with bitter grief
that, though I’ve caused much pain and strife
this was my only true relief
to take from them their tender life

as mama’s words rang in my head
I’d cut out their precious part
there’s more than one way, mama said
to steal a lovely lady’s heart

~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2008

The Fool


“Sad Harlequin” by: Lladro

 
The Fool

~

I will not smile today, you see
my broken heart is hurting, so
tears now reside where joy ran free.
I will not smile today, you see
she loved my gold, but not so me.
Played for a fool, I did not know.
I will not smile today you see,
my broken heart is hurting so!

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2008
(revised © 2018)

  • see more at dVerse

    Repetitive Forms – Meeting the Bar

    __________________

  • Probably invented in the 13th century, the triolet was cultivated as a serious form by such medieval French poets as Adenet le Roi and Jean Froissart. … The earliest triolets in English are those of a devotional nature composed in 1651 by Patrick Cary, a Benedictine monk, at Douai, France.
     

  • History. The triolet is a close cousin of the rondeau, the rondel, and the rondelet, other French verse forms emphasizing repetition and rhyme. The form stems from medieval French poetry and seems to have had its origin in Picardy. … Also, at the end of the 15th century, the term triolet appears for the first time.
     

  • The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. … Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.
  • Seasons

  • Suite of four haiku reflecting the seasons…

  • collage entitled “Four Seasons” by: rob kistner © 2007

  •  
    Seasons

    ~

     

    Spring

    (haiku)

    ~

    wings flutter gently

    spring breeze bends full flowered stems

    meadow dance begins

    ~ ~ ~

     

    Summer

    (haiku)

    ~

    green leaf on blue pond

    turns in golden summer sun

    red bird softly sings

    ~ ~ ~

     

    Fall

    (haiku)

    ~

    stalks lie down in fields

    arbors burst with ripened grape

    fall is on the land

    ~ ~ ~

     

    Winter

    (haiku)

    ~

    coarse lands cloaked in white

    lakes bejeweled in crystal

    winter’s dressing hand

    ~ ~ ~

     

    rob kistner © 2007

    _____________________

  • Click here to read more poetry at dVerse

  • Morphling


    image by Francesca Woodman

     

    Morphling

    ~

    I will not be confined
    always in motion
    eternal ebb and flow
    perpetual like the seas

    my spirit an eternal liquid
    in everlasting flux
    expands unrestrained
    seeking freedom

    I will not be defined
    my nature is fluid
    my essence is turbulent
    deep but ever changing

    my heart in constant surge
    challenges boundary
    seeking balance that is mine
    to change at will

    reach not for me
    I will not be held
    do not name me
    I will not be yours

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Footprints


    image entitled: “Puddle” – by: M. C. Escher © 1952

     

    Footprints

    ~
    a place within
    closed away
    away from scrutiny
    from the world

    angry at the wind
    at the rain
    at daylight

    angry at your smile
    at the sound of your voice

    angry at it all

    this now
    is where I live
    and how

    still you come
    the storm-tossed nights
    like a vapor
    void emotion

    leaving false footprints
    in my rutted dreams
    puddled shallow promises

    with an offered coat
    of synthetic sympathy
    edges rough as a rope
    peeled back
    hypocrisy exposed

    shivering
    I wrap it ’round me
    seeking warmth
    but it is not supple

    ill-fitted
    it does not hold my form
    nor bring comfort

    your footprints
    mark my soul
    but you do not remember
    the bend of my arm

    nor the linen
    that slid
    slippery underfoot
    on the marble aisle
    as we stalked love

    nor the vain promise
    it would be constant
    as the wind
    as the rain
    as daylight

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Yet

  • inspired by the first day I met my wife in 1987…

     

    Yet

    ~

    had she not appeared in that clearing
    so lost

    had she not crossed my threshold
    on that september day

    had not her voice
    drifted like silk on a summer breeze
    to wrap sheer and sweet
    around my heart

    had not I been drawn
    like a bloom to the morning sun

    had not I been captivated
    as a hummingbird
    by a drop of nectar
    crystal on a velvet petal

    had not my love come down
    soft as a rolling mountain meadow

    had not this dream been born

    had not my life begun again

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

  • Drowning

    Drowning

    ~

    on the boulevard
    outside
    last night’s rain
    puddles
    midst the chaos of metro-clutter
    as if abandoned
    by the waters of earth

    it shoulders its way
    through the culverts
    in search of mother sea

    this day begins golden and crisp
    bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

    lovers and their beloved
    sit by morning windows
    with tea
    and curiosity

    they talk

    in these moments
    their souls spill
    one into the other
    entranced

    somewhere
    tender lips
    are sculpting sweet words

    but here in this quiet
    I drown in your eyes
    fallen into azure pools

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

  • Click for bonus pleasure…

  • This Heart

    BFF2A456-1E90-4F3C-B250-DE3E72DD51EE

     

    This Broken heart

    ~
    this heart’s now yours
    this damaged heart
    this brittle fractured aching heart
    broken by you, every part

    I’ve no use for this ruined heart
    plucked here from my chest
    I seek a new and vital heart
    one that’s far less stressed

    a fresh heart that’s unbreakable
    a heart able to forgive
    unmarred unscarred yet tender
    beating with the joy to live

    143ADF16-F73E-4E1B-9C6B-DB3DB925C984

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Golden Lady

     

    Golden Lady

    •

    golden lady in sensuous silk
    a beauty sure to mesmerize
    sculpted by a master’s hand
    so seductive as to scandalize

    a stare of comely crystal blue
    floats above a ruby pout
    spellbound by her magic eyes
    she holds your soul with no way out

    her tongue tip teases her top lip’s edge
    like a supple paintbrush flowing
    her smile will fire and hypnotize
    then wrap around you knowing

    you are now her helpless captive
    quite hopelessly addicted
    in the velvet grip of this smoldering waif
    is she an angel — or is she wicked

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Bert Stern

    The Journey

     

    The Journey

    •

    beckoned to the final tide
    called forth by the ferryman
    spirit stirs to the distant voice
    that draws you to the journey

    caught still in this mortal realm
    soul resigned to embarkation
    time folding in upon
    as slow you approach the vessel

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    ____________

    image by Mostafa Habibi

    Rebel Rebel

    …I republish this piece today in fond memory of John…

     

    “we all shine on, like the moon, and the stars, and the sun”

     

    Rebel Rebel

    •

    I’ll not listen
    not be shackled
    not be handled
    not be ruled

    I’ll not be managed
    nor be played
    manipulated
    or be fooled

    you sure as hell
    will not tell
    me

    who
    what
    where
    when
    how

    or why

    what you offer
    I’m not taking

    your extended hand
    I am not shaking

    the world I walk
    is of my making

    and

    I will not have it
    any other way

    your iron fist
    I destroyed it

    your sage advice
    I avoid it

    you can
    rant
    rave
    condemn
    and preach

    your approval
    I do not beseech

    I seek only
    my good counsel

    I’ll not succumb
    to might
    or muscle

    not be swayed
    by your slick hustle

    I am a man
    of my own mind

    and I will live
    as my own man

    this is all
    I want to be

    well-traveled
    loved

    and free

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2008

    _____________________

    image at top entitled: “Lennon”

    10/9/40 – 12/8/80

    • • •

     

    …inspired by writing prompt #54, found at “readwritepoem”.

    Our True Work

    Something life’s experiences have taught me: seeing the world for what it is makes you smart, envisioning the world for what it can be – makes you wise…

     

    Our True Work

    •

    there are countless contradictions
    in the elements of the work we do
    and conflictions as we strive
    but bring these not to table

    for I am you
    and you are me
    and we are all together
    in this constant labor
    for our daily bread

    and this toil to sustain the body
    this does not feed the spirit
    this is not our true work

    to lift someone in need
    to measure well in tolerance
    to seek the components of peace
    to create enduring possibility

    this is the true work
    in the final sweep
    ‘round the face of time

    this is what the soul eats

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales and OSI

    Gone

    …to loved ones missed, now sadly departed…

    Gone

    •

    after the clutter of leaving
    after the hurry of goodbye
    after sweet anticipation faded away

    after no more embraces
    after the laughter was memory
    after the sadness collected day upon day

    after the spaces fell empty
    after the familiar grew distant
    after our time together had become the past

    after the taste of regret
    after the loneliness mounted
    after sands in the glass spilled away much too fast

    I did not think it would be this quiet
    I did not think it would seem so far
    no I did not know it could be so quiet
    nor did I know how this silence would scar

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Bliss

     

    Bliss

    •

    let us dare
    sweet lust’s advance
    to intertwine
    in love’s enhance

    I burn to offer
    love’s special kiss
    to fire your soul
    in passion’s bliss

    to enfold you deep
    in nocturne’s hour
    to taste the nectar
    of your tender flower

    you are the dream
    that I adore
    my one desire
    to love you more

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    The Dimming

     

    The Dimming

    •

    here is the change

    the forgetting

    the slipping away
    into the haze of memory

    the frustration
    of no longer being able
    and still
    the burning longing to…
    remember

    and you
    dimming in this fog
    midst the times we have cherished
    the places we have loved
    fading beyond reach

    an ever-mounting loneliness
    like so many vacant seats

    empty

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales