(bastard’s lament)
•
undesired
discarded
thrown away
though whole
sound
and useful
no matter
labeled mistake
misbegotten
unfortunate
shown the back
outside
looking in
left behind
alone
by the side
of life’s road
to endure
the harsh weather
of abandonment
tried
convicted
sentenced for life
to suffer confusion
shame
the sorrow
of the unwanted
condemned
guilty only
of the crime
of inconvenience
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
(a poetic quadratych)
•
The Secret
what I said was
don’t touch
go away
leave me be
while inside
I cried out
draw near
stay with me
you are light
you are pure
you are joy
you are free
I am not
I am dark
I am beast
can’t you see
without you
there is much
you don’t know
about me
The Revelation
I lived at the light’s edge
that pooled in the night
on the bleak back streets
of the sad brokenhearted
I hid in the anguish
of the loveless who cowered
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten
I fed on the grief
of the mourners who wailed
for their horrific loss
in the ruins of death
this was my heartscape
black as mid-winter night
a lightless horizon
no glimmer of hope
trusting was toxic
no foothold for love
relations were carnage
scattered lifeless and cold
The Change
’til a beautiful being
eyes brilliant and true
approached from afar
bearing tinder of love
the graceful arrangement
was deftly ignited
and patiently tended
the fire gently stoked
afraid to come forward
I held outside the glow
but your kindness drew me
we stood by the blaze
with passion it roared
its light pierced my blackness
its heat thawed my soul
my cold heart was warmed
The Miracle
you wrapped yourself ‘round me
gazed into my eyes
your kiss soft and serene
was the essence of healing
with you in my life
I am darkness removed
soaring and weightless
radiant and rising
vital and caring
my spirit’s renewed
illuminated wholly
by a new dawn of dreams
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
…a short story of intrigue…
•
“What do you mean Taylor,†Gwen inquired, the strain obvious in her weary voice. “Who exactly is going to confront Dylan… and why?â€
Her voice trailed off to an exasperated whisper. The why was not so much a question, as an exhalation of confused frustration. She seemed to know the answer was much too complicated to address at this hour, and she was too spent, physically and emotionally, to want to hear it.
Gwen turned away from Taylor, head lowered. Her arms fell limp at her side, fingers splayed. She was trying her best to process what Taylor was saying, to understand him – to understand the recent events that had brought her to this place in time… trying to make sense of anything. Her head was spinning, and she could feel the fatigue deep in her bones.
She dropped back onto the sofa, half sitting, half lying down – an exhausted slouch. She felt paralyzed, thoughts racing through her mind – fragmented, disconnected thoughts. If only she could clear her head. She was in trouble.
Continue reading The Box
•
curtains hang limp
at the front room windows
through which no breeze
has blown for days
only the sound of tires
crackling like slow-torn velcro
as cars roll sluggish
past our porch
tugging the molten tar patches
of our sizzled street
watering the roses
I see the gerbera daisies droop
panting in their porcelain pineapple pots
toasting on the withered wooden stoop
paint cracked and dry
scorched from neglect
even the silk plant on the kitchen sill
is wilted from the triple-digit heat
the glowing zeroes stare red
from the temperature display
like a pair of burning eyes
vacant as my baked brain
I bring the cool stream
from our garden hose
to quench my thirst
and moisten my parched lips
they do not smile
simmering deep in summer
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
years spun wild as a top
around faster ever faster
life layering its patina
etched deeply in my face
suddenly no longer young
now looking back from 63
I’ve known triumph I’ve known tragedy
they’ve marked me both the same
I’ve borrowed bought and sold
strayed through several shades of grey
but have I leveraged my soul
just to play the fleeting game
I pray I will not be an old man
gazing lonely out my window
trying to remember
exactly how long it has rained
not sitting silent by the fire
lost in contemplation
wondering if all I lost
was worth what it was I gained
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
In the solitude
of my assisted exile
the window above me
frames a grey
and barren sky
but with eyes closed
I see home
of long ago
alive with morning
the scurry of creatures
warmed by summer
I hear nature
in splendid voice
the chuff
of tree’d red squirrel
the song
chirp
and trill of birds
chickadee
goldfinch
western bluebird
and others
fly
flutter
and flit
cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
that spill from feeders
a red-tailed hawk
calls
from atop a Sitka spruce
swaying
in the crisp blue sky
the muffled belling of a deer
wandering the safety of old-growth
whispers
through the foothills
the distant bark
of a neighbor’s dog
echoing the basin
up along our stream
reminds me
we have friends nearby
my wife’s
gentle laughter
validates the friendship
her tender smile
validates our love
the rustle of leaves
stirred by the breeze
wafts through the valley
smartly punctuated
by the staccato
of conifer cones
that fall
from time to time
wrested free by chickaree
and chipmunk
chattering high in Douglas fir
busy with their forage
wap wap wap
they bounce off our roof
striking the ground
closely followed
by the scamper
of their liberators
crunching their way
to the heart-meat of the cone
the delicacy
that elicits this furious industry
drifting in the window
intoxicating fragrances
cedar
pine
fir
lily
rose
lilac
grasses
loam
and more
a rich
earthy bouquet
caught in my reverie
I breathe in
deeply
to suddenly remember
I am alone
carefully banished
to this forgotten cloister
sobered
I exhale
and do not open my eyes
a solitary tear
escapes
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
…I’ve written two pieces in response to Three Word Wednesday July 21st prompt • the first is entitled “The Quiet” • the second is entitled “The Strike”…
•
left like spent bait
in the disapproving sun
to rot from apathy
the carcasses of constituents
foolishly quiet
curl brittle and crack
victims of their trust
they did not jump
their chance for change
and so they wither
hollowed by ignorance
and purposeful neglect
while the dark beast
slouches off with eden
marrow dripping from a smile
• • •
The Strike
•
warm
familiar
comfortable in my palm
my fingers wrap natural cork
index raised
gauging line tension
precision brings the willow’d shaft
high above my shoulder
rod flexing expectantly
a flick of my wrist
and the line arcs forward
increasing the pressure
on my fingertip
as it rolls ahead
accelerating
then
a careful pluck
like a string
on a guitar
it is released
the golden lure
at line’s end
sails silent
into the squinting summer sun
with a subtle plick
the barbed hunter disappears
slipping ‘neath the sparkle
of the undulating steam
seductively
with quickening pulse
eagerly visualizing
I retrieve the bait
anticipating the strike
patience draws the lure
dancing ever nearer
I long for the sharp
powerful tug
for the slender thread
unreeled before me
to rise
and dart away
in a sliver of silver spray
for my heart to jump
as a proud trout
breaks water
victim to my seduction
in this moment
mind focused
breath steady
senses heightened
awaiting sudden contact
I reflect
there is a simple truth in fishing
in life
the thrill of possibility
can be as rich
as the reward
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
I would soar skyward
in sweeping circles
lifted on mighty thermals
I would not be earthbound
not a captive of gravity
if I could
but break the gravity
of time
I would not be a prisoner
of regret
I would return to you
this day would be soaring
and swooping
and giving thanks
for feathers and hollow bones
and forgiveness
• • •
rob kistner © 2010