Pierced

…a rant about my diabetes
written for Day #17, NaPoMo 2011…


Pierced

•

needles
hypodermic needles
needles needles needles

BD 30g
sterilized syringes

needles in my arms
needles in my legs
needles in my gut
needles six seven times a day

needles 3 am because
I forget the 11 pm needle

even tiny lances in my fingertips
to verify the needles needles work

needles so that I can see
needles so that I can pee
needles so my heart will beat
needles so I don’t lose my feet
needles so my blood will pump
clean as it can be

needles in my bathroom cupboard
needles in my car’s console
needles in my carry on
needles in the kitchen counter
needles in my sock drawer

needles often two at a time
needles by the box loads
coming in the mail

needles safe inside my sharps
then to the biohazard lane

needles on my night table
needles on my brain

needles in my waking dreams
needles in my nightmares
needles all day every day

needles torn from plastic bags
needles plastic caps pulled free
needles piercing chill glass vials
needles units measured carefully

needles so that I can live
for one more day of needles

yes

needles
cleans
hypos
spikes

needles needles needles

• • •

rob kistner © 4.17.11

Time Traveling

…written for Day #16, NaPoMo 2011…


Time Traveling

•

tonight
careful hands
peel back cracked
and yellowed protectant
from dark and aging pages

soured
in long-ignored
dusty albums

my wife is liberating memories
life moments
immortalized

faces and places
call from another time

a beautiful young bride
a proud new husband

our sweet children
living
and not

family and friends
here and gone

other visuals
strangely vague
yet hauntingly familiar
draw me
spark warm recall

remembered laughter
tears gratefully less bitter

captured images
collect on our coffee table

so too
do insistent emotions
cascading one by one
and all together

time
the grand thief

who would steal
the treasures of our heart
who would hold hostage
the moments of our journey

beautifully arrested

deeply moved
tears well and glisten
stirred by heartfelt gratitude
for this proof of life

proof
of love

• • •

rob kistner © 4.16.11

Skye Fyre

…written for Day #12, NaPoMo 2011…

 

Skye Fyre

~

the grand sunset gun
hunter readies his grip
as the great golden orb
returns weary from his trip

quicksilver moon
embarks on her night’s course
hunter fixes sharp eyes
steady on the source

gaia reaches gently
into vast quiet space
diamonds of stars
gaia sparkles in place

hunter locks the horizon
solid in his sight
his important grand task
still remains on this night

to set the late sky ablaze
before he goes to sleep
in patterns most bold
in colors quite deep

he aims his sunset gun
and blasts overhead
a riot of corals
ambers oranges and red

with a grand brilliant flash
the heavens are afire
in rich vivid hues
burning hot with desire

this dusk color festival
has fully begun
so hunter retires
his job is well done
but he first locks away
his grand sunset gun

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 4/12/11

Lucid 5:00 AM

…written for Day #1, NaPoMo 2011…


Lucid 5:00 AM

•

at pre-dawn five am — I see…

all my faults and failures
the importance of forgiveness

precisely why I love my wife
the perfect way to let her know

the miracle of my children
how to be a better father

the power of friendship
the value in being true

how blessed I truly am
the insignificance of my problems

the wisdom of patience
why it should be embraced

the beauty of the world
the essence of it’s magic

the meaning of life
the foolishness of wasting it

…then the rising sun
obscures my clear vision

again I stumble — blindly

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

Ship of Dreams

…I have always loved the fantasy art of Dean Morrissey and James C. Christensen, and this week’s prompt at Writer’s Island put me in mind of their highly imaginative and captivating work, which in turn inspired the poem below, with its “tongue-in-cheek” ending…

 

Ship of Dreams

•

fantastic is this spell I’m under
magic of a splendorous kind
a world of cornucopic wonder
treasure troves of dreams to plunder
in this kingdom of my mind

here I live a life enchanted
here no fear of any threat
sorrow is by joy supplanted
no limit to desires granted
what I want is what I get

fantasy’s elaboration
a god of pleasure I ascend
soar in sweet hallucination
in ships of my imagination
oh, would this dream but never end

Epilogue

well now, oh dear, that was a bit much
somewhat carried away it seems
euphoria finds me out of touch
with reality, good sense, and such
perhaps I’ll temper my daydreams

throttle back my vision quest
bring fascinations down to size
moderation will serve me best
but dreams are so hard to repress
no limits when you fantasize

• • •

rob kistner © 3/26/11

• written for Writer’s Island

• art piece at top by Dean Morrissey

________________________

…below is a sample of the fantasy art of James C. Christensen

Limitless

…limitless talent, unfathomable spirit…

Limitless

•

• written for Writer’s Island

Equinox

 

Equinox

•

winter’s journey ends
lengthening light bears witness
spring crests and breaks
here at the equinox

life bursts forth
poking through pliant soil
unfurling on barren branch
here at the equinox

nature stirs in song and call
celebrating new birth
sustaining the cycle
here at the equinox

my heart leaps
my spirit dances
to this rhythm of renewal
here at the equinox

• • •

rob kistner © 3/20/11

Inseparable

Inseparable

•

if far not near
if there not here
one is not
without the other

so is up to down
and on to off
in to out
as hard to soft

it’s good or bad
happy sad
young or old
if hot not cold

it’s stop to go
either yes or no
as is likewise
fast to slow

dark and light
as in day and night
the quintessential
he and she

it is the one
defines the other
inseparable
as you and me

• • •

rob kistner © 2011


__________

…written for Writer’s Island

Panther

• this is the final in a series of edits of a poem I first drafted in 1997
it was born of my contempt for the barbarous act of caging wild animals in a zoo •

this final edit inspired by prompt #24 at Writer’s Island,
prompt #23 at We Write Poems,
and prompt #74 at Carry on Tuesday
.



…a thing of beauty is a joy forever, a captive wild soul — is a tragedy

 

Panther

•

from rippled sinew black as midnight
bores a stare of molten gold

a furious but calm inferno
searing deep to burn your soul

unyielding is this panther’s pace
held captive in this foolish zoo

cold eyes rivet snarled contempt
unfathomed pools of quiet rage

on this panther paces paces
turns and paces back he paces

graceful stride of brute resolve
presses on to test his bounds

proud this captive soul just paces
frustration turns anger retraces

this brutal prison of false environ
does not fool this mighty beast

observe how he continues pacing
instinct certain this is not home

his piercing gaze fixed well beyond
his suffered fate of cruel confine

see the panther pacing pacing
his nature steeled his spirit strong

relentless sorrow wild longing
drive on and on his constant stride

this will not break his fierce resolve
he tracks freedom he stalks life

imprisoned he will forever pace
and he will pace

and he will die

• • •

Panther

(haiku)
•

caged beast close your eyes

have no fear of letting go

dream of wild freedom

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Masquerade

…this poem was inspired by Halloween 2010 prompt #27 at Writer’s Island.

 

Masquerade

•

when donned the mask
the transformation
smoulders forth
the other

the fantasy
of your desire
carnal fire
on wings of dreams

she is she
and too
the other

unleashed at light
of passion’s moon
a masquerade
to ignite your soul

manifest at your request
sustained this night
at her delight

she is isis
she is venus

she is your every longing
loosed
to bring you every pleasure

she is everything
and all of this
bestowed
with aphrodite’s kiss

as you burn
remember this
beneath the mask
your real bliss

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

Evening Grace


 
Evening Grace

~

as dusk descends
my stride holds steady
buoyed by the gentle embrace
of the downing golden sun

early shadows fall soft

vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes ’round my shoulders
envelops me in calm

there is still road to travel

eager to keep the journey
I’m drawn by the beauty
of the rising moon in sunset

coaxed by a soothing breeze
I venture on toward my love

rolling amber fires the lane
spreads warm ‘cross the horizon

mist begins to rise and waft

nestled in the valley
I see my hearth & home
guilded copper in this eventide

my heart quickens
stirred by this gorgeous vale
the ribbon of its brook
entwines my soul in wonder

my smile sweetens
my pace livens
I hum a quiet evensong
in the grace of this splendid day

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010


…artwork entitled “Evening Glory” by: Steven Mitchell

  • click below to enjoy more poems at dVerse:

    Open Link #277 – Live edition

  • Baby Cakes

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #22 at We Write Poems.

    Baby Cakes

    •

    crave the taste
    of my baby cakes
    seven minutes
    is all it takes

    gotta whip ‘em up
    nice and creamy
    mouthwaterin’
    moist and steamy

    oh do not rush
    you better not
    gotta get that
    little oven hot

    spread ‘em thick
    but not too quick
    steady stirrin’
    will do the trick

    ease ’em in
    slide ’em out
    hot buttered lovin’
    fresh from the oven

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    No First Ink

    Offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression,
    and in response to prompt #73 on Carry On Tuesday,
    also in response to prompt #189 at Three Word Wednesday.




    No First Ink

    •

    I lean upon my folded fist
    cool against my temple
    elbow solid on my cluttered desk

    eyes droop and flicker
    aflame with spoiled sleep

    face slacked
    head now dropped
    held in my hands
    heavy with confusion

    skull upon the finger bones
    in weighted indecision
    procrastination presses down

    where art thou muse
    I seek weightless inspiration
    to be lifted up by you

    instead
    the hum of cooling bytes
    drones relentless in my ears
    impossible to ignore
    no matter how I try

    thoughts like digits on a dollar slot
    spin unsettled in my mind
    they neither click nor lock in place
    they tumble in a jumble
    to roll and blur just out of focus
    lost in mental fog

    sunken in my writer’s chair
    I remain immobile
    paralyzed by perplexity
    imprisoned by the chaos
    awhirl in my mind

    the freedom of decision
    impossible to manage

    I fear nothing will be writ
    no first ink will be shed this day

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    Over The Edge

    This piece is offered in response to visual prompt Mag 33 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post,
    also prompt 22 at Writer’s Island,
    and prompt #135 at One Single Impression.

    Over The Edge

    •

    From down there, down there,
    it’s coming from down there.
    From where — down there?
    Yes Sis, I swear!

    That horrible smell
    that’s filling the air,
    the one that’s most certainly
    impossible to bear,
    is coming from that women
    with the massive blue hair
    sitting alone on the patio chair,
    on the deck of the house,
    that’s below us — right there!

    What a putrid aroma,
    you’d think that she’d care.
    There are simply some things
    that one never should share,
    like the stink that is rising
    from that patio chair,
    on the deck of the house
    that’s below us down there.

    And the hideous color
    of that mountain of hair —
    I can’t help it, can’t help it,
    I can’t help but stare.

    It’s a tangled and horrible monument to
    a disgusting and eye-blinding
    shade of bright blue —
    and it’s causing a feeling of nausea too!

    I must look away my heads starting to whirl,
    and I feel that my toes are beginning to curl,
    I fear over the edge here I’m going to hurl —
    and I don’t want to do that in front of a girl.

    Maybe I’m wrong
    but I would assume,
    if one’s going to bathe
    in a noxious perfume,
    they’d at least have the manners
    to exhibit some pride,
    and not foul the ozone,
    instead — stay inside.

    Not to be the forecaster
    of gloom and of doom,
    but keep the eco-disaster
    contained to one room.

    And if you’re chromatically challenged my friend,
    consider the others that you might offend.
    A monumentally grotesque rat’s nest of blue,
    is not something I care to look at on you!

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010


    Mag 33