For Naught

 

For Naught

•

the virgin page taunts me

untouched

the bright white
throbs like a migraine

no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
does it bear

no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
does it proffer

nothing sensual or sensitive to share

no tale to spin
no plot to thicken
no coin of phrase to turn

just vast blank space
tormenting nothingness
cruel emptiness
to drain my brain

dissonance spills through my open window
the scatter of autumn showers
stir of october wind
rustle of moist leaves

in the distance
muffled keens
bursts of barking
far off yelps

the edgy piercing din
of dripping prowling night
intrudes in damp insistence
to fill my head
fevered with frustration
to leave not one small space for wit

the search for insight all for naught

no spark to light this dark
no muse in sight

nothing clever or profound
in the air this night

chilled
slack

uninspired

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Ballo diVita

 

Ballo diVita

•

he
a master of time and space
she
so young and trusting

he
a wizard of colors and words
dazzled her with danger and dreams
she
a nubile daughter of nature
anointed him with exotic pleasures

he
replaced the sun in her sky
with a fire he conjured and kept
she
warmed herself in its heat
came to his bed at its setting

they
the left foot and the right foot poised
to step forth in creativity’s dance
to whirl and glide persistent and true
in the measure and balance of love

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

Images – a ten year vigil

…lest we ever forget

 

 

 

Images


•

images

unreal
unfathomable images

the graceful glide
engulfed by the spire
in a roar of golden orange

horribly beautiful

perversely mesmerizing

obscene
devastating images

torrents of humanity
raining down

desperation their only escape

masses of humanity
racing
to outrun the unbelievable

praying
to be delivered from the inconceivable

traumatic images

shrines of free commerce
consumed
by the unbearable weight
of their fragile significance
plummeting to earth
in a cloud of self-destruction

heartbreaking images

screaming
dazed
terrified souls
consumed
by the unbearable weight of the moment

staggering onward
to outdistance the surging roll
of all-engulfing
pulverized aftermath

courageous images

battered
determined
tireless heroes

those who were called
who served unselfishly

some
who gave the ultimate service

haunting images

color
gender
ethnicity
wiped away
from the ashen-grey faces
of the traumatized throngs

now just masks of calamity

all made equal
by horror and grief

one nation
under siege
inconsolable
with tragedy and sorrow
for all

unforgettable images
burned into our hearts

• • •

rob kistner © 9/11/09

 

Sea Song

• this poem linked at Writer’s Island and One Single Impression

 

Sea Song

•

sad she comes
everyday
to these empty shores
on wings of memory
to serenade this sea

a song of longing
bowed on strings
of a broken heart
mournful for the one
lost to these silent fathoms

her tears
steady as the mists
relentless swept away
by these cold
indifferent waves

only they
know where her lover lies
so everyday she comes
taunted by these tides
to seek their mystery

and every night
darkness falls
chill upon this deep

her forlorn refrain
shatters in the moonlight
the sea holding cruel tight
to its precious secret

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

_________________________

TWO OTHER RECENT POEMS:


“And So”


“The Sync”

The Sync

 

The Sync

•

connection
to make contact
searching for the sync
the heart of the matter
in this solitary journey
from womb to tomb

a stranger
on the bus of days
seeking distraction
chatting them up
to suppress
the voice of isolation

immersed in the small talk
of love
and accomplishment
to drown
the incessant murmur
of alienation

the chant of abandonment
ever there to remind
that we board alone
to make our way
toward an enigmatic destination

clinging
to a vague vision
of home

to disembark
as we began

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• collage entitled “The Sync” – by: rob kistner © 2011

__________________

• linked at Carry On Tuesday and Magpie Tales

Scorched

 

Scorched

•

the landscape
losing its gild
mottles
in gunmetal grays

fractured storm clouds
churn
in huddling menace

brightened breezes
that sizzled in the aspens
build
buffeted by the angry front
thrashing
into brittling winds

the world
tumbles towards darkness

my heart
shudders in deep shadow
mourning love’s devastation

scorching words
bite and sting
where they sizzle still
blistering my careless tongue

would that it rain
drown the lands
that I might
turn my face to the sky
flood my foolish mouth
charred by regret
with drenching waters
of contrition

to douse the cruel fire
of that
which should never have been said

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• collage entitled “Sorrow” – by: rob kistner © 2011

________________

inked at Writer’s Island

Fret Not

…written for Day #30, NaPoMo 2011…

 

Fret Not

•

people are consumed
by endings
speak of their finality
their permanence
their absoluteness

but I say no

in this age of recycling
repurposing
sequels
syndication
spin-offs
botox
rogaine
viagra
endings are not absolute

eventually inevitable
but in that
they are not so special
not unique

beginnings

these are unique
these are absolute
they only happen once
they are not inevitable
not guaranteed

they require a complex
independent
set of variables
to come together
perfectly timed
properly executed

and in that
they are singular
very very special

so let us not fret
nor dwell
nor waste emotion upon
something so commonplace
as endings

instead

let us seek
let us anticipate
let us celebrate
beginnings

these amazing culminations
of elusive possibilities

they are so full
of promise
of potential
of mystery

so worth our wonder

• • •

rob kistner © 4/30/11

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

La Nature du Feu


…per this week’s prompt at Big Tent Poetry, this is a gentle rewrite of a poem of mine
originally published in the 2010 RWP Anthology




 

La Nature du Feu
The Nature of Fire

A Poem Using Three Lines from Norman Dubie’s “Of Politics & Art”

(the borrowed lines are italicized)

•

here
on the farthest point of the peninsula

an office building is burning
ignited by a single match
careless or criminal
not yet known

inconceivable
that such a structure
can be so wholly engulfed
but the fire was too fierce
and the distance too great
for rescue

but what of the fury
in that single first flame
to have leapt so viciously to consume
to ravage
to devastate so absolutely

it is always there
la nature du feu

like the rage of a repressed
and violated being
too long held down
unjustly deprived
confined

all potential denied
where there is great potential

spirit squelched
where there is great spirit

sometimes a whole civilization can be dying
until finally a single incident
the spark
unleashes a righteous inferno
that has no bounds

it is always there
la nature du feu

all around the good people gather
stare in disbelief
how is this possible here
not realizing that such power to combust
to blaze so brilliantly
can only be suppressed for so long

it is always there
la nature du feu

ready to explode
like the fury in the head of that match
and when the smoulder becomes full flame
all will burn
out here on the peninsula
and in here
at the still and protected center

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

…visit Big Tent Poetry

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

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