•
moonlight keeps dark at bay
pressing in
as night winds stir
mocking final breath of life
lost to the lightless realm
beyond the chill encircling me
no emotion here
save grief
failed digits of a graspless hand
on a broken stair
where ankle bent
and held oranges spilled
no voice came to the futile cry
those lips will not know again
sweet fruit
nor love…
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
…this piece evolved from both a visual prompt (see below) on Magpie Tales, as well as a “hinge” prompt on Read Write Poem…
•
so many times
I return home from a business trip
swing onto our concrete carport
pause – and key the engine off
all is silent – save the tick and popping
as the engine cools
my favorite moment
just before I open the door
to step out
to approach the house — approach you
this moment of anticipation
knowing you are waiting
bathed and fragrant
warm and soft
dressed in something that will whisper
welcome home my love – I’ve missed you
to take you in my arms
fall into your loving eyes
pull your willing body close
to wrap ‘round you
drink you in – intoxicated
these moments melt into sweet love making
that continues until exhaustion
we both love when I return
but tonight
I do not key the engine off
I do not reach for the handle
do not open the door
I simply sit
my warm hand encircling
the coolness of the ivory fob
you gifted me with
on our African honeymoon
you are no longer waiting
not in quite sometime
not since you lost your battle brave
not since I held you, that final time
your body still soft and warm
warm as my trembling hand
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
my muse is hard to capture
though I do try each day
just goes so fast
I turn around
it’s past me in a blur
leaving little inspiration
each day becomes each night
here I sit in the wee hours
while the sane sleep
steeped in contradiction
thoughts vague
filled with doubt
words tossed about the unyielding page
I start then stop
I write then not
caught mercilessly unclear
in terminal hesitation
in quiet rage
fickle muse – please…
a spark to light this dark
that grips me like a cage
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
rounding a bend
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll and stop
mesmerized
awash in the warm brushstrokes of evening
filtered through this woodland realm
as the waning sun paints the world golden
below me
a pristine ribbon of silver-blue water
flecked with sunlight
sparkles like a strand of gems
transfixed
I marvel at the beauty
at the power
of this mighty river
as it tumbles in timeless clarity
over boulder and falls
ever onward
its lyric voice
beckons me
I come
entranced
stand immersed in its energy
captivated by its duet with the wind
that plays the boughs of the towering pines
singing down the lofty climbs
to gently brush my face
toss my hair
and dance past me round a bend
in perfect harmony
serenaded in this evensong
sunset has melted into moonrise
the waters ripple sterling in soft applause
the moon sets aglow this splendid concert
so I listen
spellbound
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
_____________________
• photographs taken near my home in the Cascade Mountain foothills
top photo entitled: “Sunlight on the Clackamas”
bottom photo entitled: “Moon over the Santiam”
_____________________
•
unfurling in linear spiral
time escapes into the future
tethered to the past
ever captive in the now
over and over
repeating in my head
these same strange words
the same chilling voice
over and over
unfurling in linear spiral
time escapes into the future
tethered to the past
ever captive in the now
always the same fevered dream
the fear
the guilt
the regret
I am fallen
paralyzed
unable to lift my head
it’s then I see him
see him coming
slowly out of the mist
coming
always coming
his sour smile
menacing
condemning
I want to rise up
run at him
scream at him
strike at him
run from him
run
but I cannot
I cannot
again that haunting voice
unfurling in linear spiral
time escapes into the future
tethered to the past
ever captive in the now
but what
what does it mean
I’m going
going — I think
going mad
mad
what does it mean
why — charles
it means nothing
and everything
and yes — charles
you are going mad
who
who are you
how do you know my name
why won’t you leave
leave me alone
what do you want!
want?
why – you, charles
tethered to your past
ever captive in this now
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
he runs his fingers through her hair
tears run down his cheeks
he holds her near
cradled
too late protected
he runs the events
over and over in his mind
the horrible events
daisey
our golden lab
running out into the street
you running out after
right into the path
run down
why
why
why did you run
now time
and your precious life
running out
running out
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
right
keep right came the response
redirecting the runner
in reaction to his rapid-fire request regarding the route
racing recklessly in redoubled resolve
certain this resurgence would redeem his rough start
he ran rampant
refusing to relinquish his radical pace
no longer rambling
he raged like a rogue renegade
determination renewed
hope refueled
spirit refreshed
his belief was rekindled that a resounding victory would result
if he would just run
run
run
his rally realized
lungs raw and ragged
he rocketed ‘cross the finish line
reared his head
and roared raucously
arms raised in release
tears rolling in relief
he rejoiced
triumphant
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
what is it you find so amusing my dear
perhaps it’s the fact I have only one ear
it makes it difficult to accurately hear
so you’ll have to speak that much louder I fear
yes it’s true, as you see, I have only my right
the left was cut off in a terrible fight
and I have not been quite the same since that night
it’s hard to be happy when you’re a pitiful sight
my glasses are impossible to keep on my face
and my hat just refuses to stay in its place
where there once was an ear I have only a space
but having one ear surely is no disgrace
with only a right ear my intake’s askew
I only hear things from a right point of view
so my right point of view I assume to be true
and therefore it’s righteous — what I think and do
now what is it you find so amusing my dear
I hope you’re not laughing at my missing ear
I suggest you had better stop pointing, you hear
’cause a righteous right-eared man is someone to fear
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
sailing on a skiff of dreams
the ferryman standing watch
you soar untethered
‘mong the clouds of wonder
to magical mystical ports of call
where all imagined is in your grasp
if only you could stay the course…
but fast – daybreak approaches
• • •
The Final Dream…
•
caught in the final dream
called forth by the ferryman
spirit stirs to the distant voice
readies for the journey
one foot still in this mortal realm
soul resigned to embarkation
time folding in upon
as slow you approach the light
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
_____________________
•
this night charles is a traveler
adrift in the mists of time
in a rough-hewn dory of his mortality
curiosity is his poleman
overcome by insecurity
charles has abandoned his reality
to sail beyond the mystery
drawn to the light of clarity
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
_____________________
…below are three of my poems that have been selected by Fiona Robyn for publication on her “A Handful of Stones” poetry site. She refers to these brief works as ‘small stones’, hence the title of my post. Accompanying each of my selected poems is the date on which it will be published. I invite you to visit Fiona’s site as you will find some wonderful little gems, or rather, ‘small stones’ there…
I’ve grown dark in my spirit over the past year, and I want to find my way back to the light and the wonder that used to fill me. I am posting this piece I wrote a couple years ago to remind myself of when I was still in touch with my sense of wonder.
•
I’ve watched
golden Fire Clouds
hanging in pale green skies
over the azure seas of Toluras
heard the haunting call
of the coral-winged Lellurt
soaring Droon’s violet skies
over teal Darpin Bay
seen the copper leaves
of Parmus fronds
flashing from indigo mountains
in the crystal mists of Gemin
been seduced by saffron Remmors
a’swim with siren song
translucent in the amber waters
of emerald Topiarus
I have beheld exquisite beauty
of otherworldly delight
but nothing to please my eyes and ears
as you, whispering here, tonight
• • •
rob kistner © 2008
_____________________
fantasy artwork above entitled: “Time Window”
featuring elements from justin and rob kistner
final composite created by: rob kistner © 2006
…this is a poem about the horror and ethical dilemma that is war, and the devastating impact it has on many soldiers…
crisp red from the scalding sun
from devastation’s fires
from cruel vision of relentless horror
scorched by vicious exposure of sentenced gaze
take refuge in this heavy late evening dew
thick with munitions soot
settling like a shroud
lubricious
opaque
obscuring
I am sustained by this damp cool pall
that descends upon me
wraps ‘round my pained countenance
fevered with fatigue
deafened by weapon’s roar
crippled with despair
driven by faint memory of honor
of duty
of human dignity
I stumble
broken by this sin I shoulder
this perversion
not of my making
but of my charge
my sin
conceived and unleashed
by those who would impose their will
their twisted utopian vision
who would advance their agenda of domination
those who would take it all
wear the conqueror’s crown
who would rule the world
a world now broken
corrupted by their vision
spoiled by their vanity
a world in chaos
I have but this bloodied ruin-riddled highway
of deepening nocturne
of dying dreams
crushed innocence
destruction
death
decay
of my duplicity
of my guilt
my shame
fear not for the future
weep not for the past
…impossible
and so I stumble on
muttering mea culpa
saturated with this falling evening
with this drenching sorrow
slinking in exhausted alert
nerves shattered as eggshells
numb to panic
hollow
empty
into this coming night
and the next night
and the night that follows
that always follows
captive on this road of murder
of mounting evil
of brutal human arrogance
prisoner of this lost highway
seeking forgiveness
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•> click HERE to read The Failure of Architecture, a poem I wrote about the ethical dilemma of the corporate world <•
…this is a poem about the dehumanizing impact of the cubicle’d corporate world, and the often questionable ethics that pervade it…
they rise gargantuan
icons of the clever human
they vibrate
with the chaos of mixed agenda
they hum with networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
‘we can’ beyond the reach of ‘should we’
bedecked in stainless
glass
and stone
ablaze in halogen and neon
strewn here and there with art
their essence remains sterile
their foundation is profit
their cornerstone often cupidity
in varying shape and differing size
swollen with the buzz
rustle
and clatter
of corporate cacophony
they flank in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
ensnared in the honk
screech
and roar
of gridlocked anguish
soaring above the drone and glare
and the dirge of dying dignity
these pretentious monoliths can intimidate
emotionally eviscerate
creatively castrate
spiritually suffocate
stagger and stun
a cold calculated majesty
ultimately — this architecture fails
for it does not move the soul
that seeks the folded petal’s mystery
that marvels
at the smallness of a sprouting frond
the beauty of a burled oak
the magic of a budding branch
at the glory of a redwood’s rise
it does not lift the spirit
soothed by a morning breeze
whispered in autumn aspens
or stirred by a loon’s lament
over the still water of a dusk lake
or thrilled by the song of birds
the mighty swoop of a redtail hawk
or captivated by a coyote’s midnight call
it cannot touch the heart
that needs to see a salmon’s trek
the dolphin’s arc in an open sky
the roll of unobstructed clouds
or a fall of stars
it offers nothing to the dreamer
who needs to hear the crack of thunder
resound for miles across the plain
then off the mountain’s face again
yes…
this architecture fails the human core
that needs the fresh embrace of rain
the crisp and quiet drift of snow
the hues and sway of living fields
it leaves the spirit cold
that needs to watch the orchards bloom to fruit
see forests thick beyond horizons
or feel the lift of cresting surf
no…
there are no human constructs
that satisfy this need to know true splendors
evolving natural wonders
wonders that inspire
resonate the heart
that liberate the soul
to leave one…
…transcendent
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
…this edited rewrite, of a poem I wrote in 2007, was inspired by a prompt at sunday scribblings…
…this is a love poem, that addresses its sometimes sad impossibility…
I want to see you,
See you, the hidden,
Hidden, cowering out of sight.
I long to know you,
Know you, the evasive,
Evasive, running, ever in flight.
I want to touch you,
Touch you, the distant,
Distant, and as dark as night.
I want to love you,
Love you, the frightened,
Frightened, damaged by your plight.
But I can’t reach you,
Reach you, so broken,
Broken, untrusting, shut down, closed tight.
• • •
rob kistner © 2010