•
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
Category: love
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
• • •
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
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
• • •
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…
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
Sad Little Clown
•
I am the sad little clown
with the frowning face
the round red nose
and the great big tear
this meek facade
and silly sham
belie the horror
that I engineer
life’s dealt me cold
my hand is slack
not a queen
no king nor ace
the violence
that dwells within
is masked behind
my woeful face
no one suspects
the evil soul
that festers deep
in this funny fool
they know not
the monster in me
the gentle sheen
conceals the cruel
they don’t realize
a broken heart
a ruined life
makes one quite mad
they simply see
the pitiful
and painted face
that looks so sad
the shaggy coat
the baggy pants
the red suspenders
the big white glove
they do not know
it hides the hand
that choked the life
and killed their love
town after town
state after state
bodies mount
in the circus’ wake
in the dead of night
at the dark of moon
in frenzied fever
each life I take
each beautiful
each innocent
each unaware
that they would die
there will be more
on the road ahead
one for every tear
you made me cry
when the circus comes
and the tents go up
the people cheer
in each sleepy town
‘cause in their ignorance
what they don’t know
who’s really come
is the killer clown
• • •
Message in a Bottle
In the spirit of the 1st prompt on the newly re-opened Writer’s Island, I retrieved this message from my imaginary bottle, unrolled, then read it — this is what it said:
Seamen brave and strong as we
There’s a truth that we all learn
When brave and strong men go to sea
Tis not certain they’ll return
___________________________
October 23rd, 1997
This may be the last few hours of my life. I feel compelled to take this paper and pen and chronicle my end – to feel I did not die in vain… in faith that someone may find this.
I penned the brief sea chant you see at the top, because it continues to turn over and over in my head.
I have no radio or communications devices. They were all destroyed. I have no way of getting a message out — save this crude method.
How I hope that someone will find this. The address of my family and their phone number is on the back. Please, whoever may discover this – see that it gets to my family. Thank you so very much!
I’m the only one left. Carey was killed in the crash, and Gill succumbed to his mortal wounds last night. I rolled his body into the ocean to satisfy the sharks, and keep them at bay for a bit longer.
They’ve circled through the night — it’s the third night they returned. They get bolder each time – the largest has lost all fear. He’s bumped me several times in the last couple of hours. He’s taunting, he knows I’m nearing my end.
When the attack comes, and come it will very soon — it will be vicious and final. I’m certain I will not survive it, but I’m reasonably confident it will be over quickly. At least three of the most aggressive circling are great whites – large enough to finish a man in a few quick rips.
I’m so very weary; I almost wish it would just happen. The uncertainty of waiting is getting to be too much… I’m exhausted… I’m ready.
This was to be our last run up from Cuba. So many uneventful trips… I think we grew careless. We’d broken out a couple bottles of the contraband Varadero and lit up a couple of the Cohibas to celebrate this last trip. I never ceased to be amazed how much money we were making smuggling in illegal Cuban Rum and Cigars… just unbelievable.
We were literally flying over the wave tops in our custom 32′ Donzi race-hull speeder. We weren’t full open, but we were doing 70 knots on the calm seas — the 1,000 horses purrin’ like a kitten.
We were too caught up in the booze and stogies to notice the sleeper cross-wave until it caught us sideways at mid-hull and snapped this cigarette boat like a twig – it just exploded out from under us.
One minute I am in a speeding boat with my two best friends skimmin’ the waves – the next minute we’re in the water, with just a piece of the aft hull in tact. The rest was splintered flotsam and jetsam. Our cargo, what wasn’t destroyed, or on the bottom of the deep blue — floated and bobbed in their wooden cases like square corks.
Carey was dead, Gill critically wounded, and I – just dazed. I dragged Gill and I up onto the small fragment of the Donzi that was still afloat, where Gill eventually died. Carey had floated away. The sharks found him in less than an hour. They finished him in a turbulent frenzy.
Before the end comes I want to say my farewells to my family. Ironically, I’m going to seal this message in one of the Varadero Rum bottles. It was smuggling this shit that got Carey and Gill killed – and soon I as well.
Kathy, my sweet wife, you’ve been the love of my life – patient, understanding… you make me so happy, though I don’t show it all the time. I get caught up in the fog of life’s distractions — buried in my pride and insecurity.
But alone out here, under the warm Atlantic sun, a calm has settled over me. I’m filled with peace, and a joy that is my love for you! I see with great clarity how much you mean to me as my wife. My emotions are overwhelming me. I see how remarkable our relationship is.
So, my love, when I’m gone, please see these words as a place you can visit and be nurtured. A private, wonderful place you can go, to know these treasures that have always been in my heart. I will be there – close your eyes and you will feel me there, and my love.
And my darling daughter Jennifer — after all these years, you have never lost your magic. Like a brilliant sorceress, with one word, you can cast your spell, and put me in a wonderful dream. Your magic word is, “Daddy!†You say this as you smile deeply into my eyes — “Daddy!†I melt.
I will always be your daddy and you will forever be my little girl, my firstborn, my beautiful daughter! Thinking of you here, now, tears fill my eyes.
You make certain you don’t settle in life for anyone who doesn’t love, respect, and appreciate you as much as I do, as your family does.
You make sure you introduce any guy you may fall for to mom, and to your brother. If they don’t approve, you listen closely to their reasons why. Do not compromise your integrity — ever!
Your father loves you Jen… I love you dearly.
And Justin, my son — my baby… ours is a tough relationship, tough love, no room for timid. It is so easy for me to see your faults, and poke at them — for there in you go I. We are so very much alike it scares me.
Your imperfections glare at me because I possess them all, every one of them within me — and more. Photos of me from my past, uncanny, they might as well be you.
But it’s where we are not alike that your miracle begins.
You are smarter than I ever was. You care for people, honestly. You face life with strength and courage. I just marvel at you – I really do! You have accomplished so much already in your life – and you’ve just begun.
We argue at times, but my love for you is deep son… my pride is lasting. It’s impossible with these words, to tell you what you mean to me. But every word for love and pride – I feel in my heart for you!
I know you will miss me, and probably feel lost and angry at first – but you will recover quickly, I know you will. I know how intelligent and strong willed you are.
Please take care of your mother, and Jenny. They will need your strength, just as you will need their nurturing.
I love you Jus, and I know you love me — I always have known. We are father and son. inseparable forever — remember that!
And Aaron, I find myself thinking so much about you. I’m looking at your picture in my wallet. It’s my favorite picture of you, son — the one I cherish most since your passing.
It is the simple snapshot, taken at the airport, upon your return from having run the New York City Marathon.
You have a gentle, triumphant smile. Your eyes are beaming behind the “cool†shades you have on. Your jacket sleeves rolled in casual hip-ness, bag thrown carefree over your shoulder, and your medal hangs proudly around your strong neck.
You are fiercely handsome!
How profound this captured moment proved to be, taken just before the finish line of your 18 years — it said it all. Your race was run, your bag was packed, and your reward was in your hand. You now fly my sweet angel – fly!
Dad will be there soon. I can’t wait to throw my arms around you. I have missed you so very much, my gentle giant – but I’m coming.
Kathy, Jenny, Justin – I don’t want you to cry for this old man too long. I am not afraid out here right now. I feel Aaron with me, so very close – and soon he and I will see each other again.
We will both wait for each of you guys to finish your business down here on earth – then we will all be together. But take your time and enjoy all there is in life.
Don’t be too upset with wayward old me. I might have been a smuggler, but I never hurt anyone – and I loved you all from the bottom of my heart.
I only have two pieces of paper, so this message must come quickly to an end. I really am not frightened. With my last breaths and energy I will be hugging you all, squeezing you tightly – and kissing you all good-bye.
I love you; please know that – I love you all so much!
Kathy, go see Warren. He has a key for you. Then go see Grace, she has an address for you. Finally see Barry, he has a box number for you. They don’t know about each other.
Use these things together and you will be comfortable for the rest of your life.
When you trim the Christmas tree each year, think of me as you hang the Father Christmas ornament. You know it is my favorite.
Good-bye… until we are all together again!
NaPoWriMo #28 – part 2:
• one free verse poem
• one ecstatic poem
____________________________________
the second is an edited rewrite of a poem I wrote a couple of years ago that I wanted to share…
In following Julie’s suggestion that we let intuition guide us to a theme, a subject, essentially to the “prompt” for this poem for day 28 of NaPoWriMo 2010 — what presented itself to me several times was a question. Why do I write poetry? The answer that surfaced — for my personal solace, my peace of mind, for my sanity. Thus came forth the prompt for this day.
•
in the sorrowing hours
at full depth of night
alone with my thoughts
my terrors
my dreams
sculpting words into wedges
that pry open my psyche
expose raw emotion
lay bare my soul
that I might glimpse who really I am
and be certain still that I feel
here is my sanity
• • •
•
step gently through the dream-gate
take hold the strand continuum
ride the light that carries you
to the is, was, the will be
transcendence moment
when the all is one
in the perfection
of pure being
here now
alive
∞
•
NaPoWriMo #28
• one free verse poem
• one tanka
____________________________________
•
the moment of not-spring
has no bold herald
save a passing notation
on one’s calendar
easily missed
there is not a disruption
in the earth’s crust
there is no disturbance
in the air
the planets
do not misalign
the moment of not-spring
is a non-moment
as can be the moment of not-love
it can pass by unnoticed
no disruption
no disturbance
but the realization
of not-love
is a storm
more fierce
than even the worst
of spring’s fury
it can break the earth
wide open
leave one gasping
for the next breath
as all the stars
fall from heaven
• • •
•
fresh-placed flower scent
feel of soft grass under knee
memories still grip
more and more are sweet recall
hard tears turning to soft smiles
• • •
NaPoWriMo #27
• one acrostic
• one tanka
____________________________________
•
Even in chaos nature finds balance.
Violent floods beget fertile fields.
One thing ends, another begins.
Life is a cycle of birth and death.
Untamed wildfire creates forest ash.
The ashen remains nurture growth again.
In the caterpillar lives the butterfly.
One thing ends, another begins.
Now and forever, the mandella spins.
• • •
•
garage sound check great
groupies at the ludlow door
allmans soon to start
damned duane is still m-i-a
we stone fox boys are ready
• • •