I could not sleep last night
the tears come at times today
tears because I miss you
tears because I love you
tears because the memories
bitter and sweet
bring forth these true emotions
you abide within my heart these days
in a place of warmth and peace
I am so thankful you are here
and will always be
______________________________
in loving memory of my son
Aaron Robert Kistner
November 4, 1976 – July 3, 1995
•
he lifts himself quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect
makes his way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed in a heap
un-moving on the floor
save a twitch of the sodden head
this wreckage is his mother
why do you just lie there mother
my head is full of demons son
the response only imagined
she remains slack and death-like
where nocturne angels of sweet release
had laid down lush upon her
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver in the soured vein
mother — why do you want to die
the return is only silence
he lingers but a moment
verifying life
then moves on
head down
he angles to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash his face
a face lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely
eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
stare into the mirror
broken as his heart
then close
your eyes hold a story my son
will you tell me your story
yes mother
if you really want to hear about it
if you really could
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
• the first poem is a free verse conceptual perspective on the essence of anger
• the second is a poem I would like to share, which touches the primal anger I felt at the time of the tragic death of my 18-year-old son, Aaron — written shortly after the horrible event
• the third is the pantoum which was directly suggested by this prompt — it is based on a poem I wrote while in the early stages of my grief, also regarding the raw, unfiltered anger I felt, and still feel occasionally, surrounding Aaron’s death
•
love
bruised
crying out
to be understood
so loudly
that it cannot hear
frustrated
that its capacity to feel
is far greater
than its ability to express
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
i remember well the day he died
the searing pain
that fueled my rage
setting fire to the skies
primal power
giving life to sorrowed hatred
sustaining me no food or sleep
while i cursed the cruel heavens
in ringing spite that toppled mountains
and leveled to despair
every mocking face of care
reaching out to touch me
saying how they understood
they sure as hell — did not
or they’d have never gotten near me
they’d have given me vast berth
for all i wanted was to strike them
make them scream
make them hurt
i would have given him my life
with little thought have taken yours
for if my son could no longer live
nor would anyone on this earth
• • •
rob kistner © 1995
•
this cannot be the way his story ends
his youth snuffed out by someone’s mindless deed
this cannot be the horror fate intends
if life you want mine now I do concede
his youth snuffed out by someone’s mindless deed
if debt is owed please I will make amends
if life you want mine now I do concede
hell’s threshold now to where I stand extends
if debt is owed please I will make amends
anger grips me like a poison seed
hell’s threshold now to where I stand extends
my soul ablaze my heart begins to bleed
anger grips me like a poison seed
god your cold and heartless name offends
my soul ablaze my heart begins to bleed
a blackness here within me now distends
god your cold and heartless name offends
hatred of you deep inside does breed
a blackness here within me now distends
upon my very essence it does feed
hatred of you deep inside does breed
cruel god is this the horror you intend
upon my very essence it does feed
this cannot be the way his story ends
please tell me this is not the way his story ends
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
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
• • •
• • •
• • •
•
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
• • •
•
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
• • •
•
life is generous
with the good and bad
countless experiences
joyous and sad
it would appear
you’ve had your share
you’ve garnered wisdom
learned how to care
you have known joy
you’ve tasted pain
stricken with sorrow
but smiled again
there have been hardships
and there’s been blessings
helpless frustrations
moments of guessing
tears cried for others
fears of your own
you’ve not always reaped
what it is you’ve sown
you’ve been envied
but you’ve been loved
you’ve helped pull through
been rudely shoved
rightly praised
and wrongly treated
momentarily dazed
but not defeated
you’ve been criticized
words harshly spoken
you’ve been knocked
but never broken
through it all
you have persisted
you have endured
and you’ve resisted
the easy temptation
to harbor hate
never blaming others
for what is your fate
you’ve steered clear fissures
not fallen in cracks
kept moving forward
not looking back
now your facial fissures
those knowledge tracks
display those proudly
when you smile back
you’ve been a good man
since your youth
time is witness
to this truth
the testimony
shines with grace
it’s etched indelibly
in your face
• • •
•
he has kept it locked for so long
none can pass
his grief makes certain none will try
this is a dark forbidden place
high-walled
cold and barren
unyielding
lifeless
brutal night has fallen
no sun can penetrate
the darkness soothes him
he retreats into its depths
hiding
shielded from any further pain
but see
a shadow falls across the threshold
someone approaches
a comely being
warm and alive
lays gentle siege
threatening to breach his hardened fortress
but this lovely creature
fair and fragile
can not possibly gain entrance
must not
he will resist
this is wrong
this is trespass
this is cruel betrayal of his lost beloved
he has no right to leave this place of sorrow
no right
but his stronghold is succumbing
falling to this delicate advance
he is vulnerable
terrified
but it is useless to resist
searching with a patient heart
she has found the key
grasped in her loving hand
fingers tenderly enfold it
gently
she slides it into the lock
turning with great care
he is defenseless
he feels his heart slowly open
the long forgotten stir of love
begins to warm his soul
• • •
•
sweet pink blossoms fall
red spring buds will take their place
soon will be cherries
• • •
poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010
•
we were beautiful
as a painted egg
smooth couple
balanced relationship
bright and colorful
lovely to behold
at arm’s length
but we grew hollow
superficial
fragile
brittle
too easily crushed
and once so
forever broken
no over-lacquer
of sustained love
to add substance
no second coating
of genuine honesty
to insure strength
we lost
the tender brushstrokes
of the heart
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
you do not see
me
no shadow do I cast
that you perceive
no movement
to catch your eye
no color
no shape
no texture that is truly mine
you see
the avatar of your fantasy
the puppet of your desires
the specter of your lust
to you
I
am invisible
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
___________________________
…image found here…
•
a tear can cloud the brightest day
song will brush aside the clouds
is not sadness just a passing state
but what a melody can chase away
a tune played true with voice in tow
little sorrows flee from such display
thing is, so few will dare seek joy
and thus succumb to feeling low
yet when life is lived in harmony
what hurt you have will drift and fade
joy in chorus will lift the heart
it swells the soul in reverie
is it not foolish to keep bliss entombed
to see not but the dark and gloom
sing — and laughter will light the room
a song is but a little thing
and yet what joy it is to sing
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
•
this day as I journey
I come upon a stranger
standing by the road looking sad
heavy box held in his arms
clutched close to his breast
he stares into my eyes expressionless
his gaze stops me still
fixes me in place
his face is tired and drawn
etched in withered worry
when at last I move
I draw close enough to see
this sullen man is me
everyone is born with some special talent
he sighs
I am a collector
of tears shed in moonlight
the pain of love’s betrayal
the grief of empty lives
he concludes
and offers out his hands
that open on the box
he beckons me retrieve
this container he protects
filled with apprehension
I reach and grasp the case
lift it cautiously from his grip
lay it gently at my feet
it opens as I do
slowly
to reveal its strange contents
three lone broken hearts
these are yours
I am told
created by your deeds
cruelly left behind
as coldly you moved on
each belonged to one who trusted you
a trust you did betray
without a second thought
love you tossed aside
abandoned carelessly
now the burden of this box
is mine beyond the grave
eyes lowered in fatigue he exhales
it was on a road like this
that it was passed to me
I have carried it too long
I am weary from the load
looking into my eyes he points
now you must bend and lift
and clutch it to your breast
to struggle with its weight
until you pass it on
searching the distance he goes on
someday a stranger will approach
over that horizon
he will stop and stare
transfixed by your presence
you will charge him with this chest
then he will lift and carry
as I do
in this cycle of forever
for he too
will be you
• • •
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
NaPoMo poem-set #28
This is the twenty eighth day of poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.
This set of seven haiku were inspired by the read write poem NaPoWriMo prompt #28, “Seeing Red”.
• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.
Seven Red
•
inquiries of heart
from summer red lover’s lips
float like butterflies
•
green leaves on blue pond
float in golden summer sun
red bird softly sings
•
golden sun burns bright
scorching the red rock canyon
Sedona summer
•
eyes red from crying
words cannot be taken back
she will leave today
•
a ruby droplet
the yellow rose bears sharp thorns
we will share red wine
•
path forked this spring morne
white-tails chose tall trees instead
redwoods are safety
•
spring snow-pack’s melting
fresh mountain stream tumbles clear
under red maples
• • •
rob kistner © 2009
___________________________
• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem