NaPoWriMo #20 – Heroes

This is my twentieth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• two free verse poem
• one tanka


____________________________________

• inspired by Jessica GC’s prompt at read write poem

____________________________________


 

Reality At 30,000

•

(a hero returns)

distant
slurred
reverberant

like a voice in a canyon
I hear her calling in my mind
my name
rolling sweet as nectar
from lips soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach
glistening deep coral
as they wrapped softly
‘round each pouted syllable
when she bid me tender farewell
so long ago

our fingertips had strained to grasp
until the final sensation of warmth
of touch
had faded
and they had drifted apart

I had struggled to tear my eyes
from her tears
that glistened on her lashes
and around her swollen crystal blue eyes
to slip softly over the crests
of her velvet cheeks
then down the contour of her face
flushed as sunset
to lightly salt her quivering lips

and as I passed
numb and dazed
through the tunnel of the loading gate
toward the jet
that took me to hell
I had at that moment
locked the image
of that sorrowed face of love
deep in my heart

It had proved my salvation
my only grasp on sanity
in those horrific years
over there

my lips too had quivered on that day
with the sting of separation
and the chilling knowledge
I would soon taste the bitter blood of war
foul with the stench of death

having not yet departed
I had already longed to gaze again
into her brilliant blue eyes
and taste her sweetness

yet

as I return this day
trying to face reality
from 30,000 feet
I taste the salt of sadness

for I fear
a kiss from me
with my killer’s mouth
will forever defile the fragile innocence
of those luscious lips
soft as orchid petals
full as a bursting peach
that glistened
and quivered
when last we parted

• • •

 

____________________________________


 

Eternal

•

tears on flushed pale cheeks

warm held hand grows cool and still

she has left this earth

my love is now eternal

how do I face tomorrow

• • •

 

____________________________________


…here is a bonus “whimsical” poem written in response to the day 19 prompt at poetic aside


 

Phineas & Phlo

•

phineas morton is not a happy guy
that’s not to say he’s sad
he just decided long ago
not to live life on the extremes
so he would describe himself as
well
as centered
yes
phineas morton is a centered guy

he lives in the abandoned hull
of a short
yellow
school bus
left there by his parents
when he was 12
as they went off to find
well
to find happiness

this situation may also account
for his less than enthusiastic embrace
of the whole concept of
well
of happiness

phineas dreams of
someday
doing something
something
well
something interesting
shunning the extreme nature
of
of great
he is not really interested
in doing something
great
interesting will do just fine

he has a girlfriend
well
sort of a girlfriend
more like a
well
like a girl acquaintance
that sounds less “on the edge”
which suits his centeredness
just fine

her name is flo
though she has come to spell it
phlo
as an expression
of her affinity for phineas
you know
phineas and phlo
the whole ph
sounds like f
thing
you know f
fuh f fuh

well
anyway
phineas wants everyone to know
that while he waits for his
interesting life to begin
he can be found
out by ole’ doc patterson’s pond
in his shell of a bus

you’re more than welcome to come by
just
if you do
don’t be too happy
if you know what I mean
doesn’t sit well with the lad

so if you come by
bring some jelly beans
red jelly beans
because
well
just because

and a tip from me
if you do drop in on phineas
don’t be clever
you know
don’t make any wisecracks about
well
no “short bus” remarks
ok

ok

• • •



• poems and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…check out the other heroes at readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #11 – Play Ball!

This is my eleveth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku




____________________________________

…this piece was written in keeping with the spirit of a prompt by Angie Werren over at read write poem who asked us to write about the choice we didn’t make…

____________________________________




 

Spring Recall

•

it is this time every year
perhaps coaxed by the warming breezes of spring
that a flood of recall is unleashed

smell of leather oiled in neatsfoot
clatter of wooden bats in a canvass bag
rattle of metal spikes on concrete
snug feel of the ballglove
tuggin’ on the cap
rollin’ the bill just right

smoothness of the cowhide sphere
grip on raised seams
click and clack of the catcher’s gear
cheers, jeers and sometimes tears
right foot on the rubber
excitement of taking signs
leg coiled for delivery
the hey batter batter
pop of the ball in the pocket
anticipation of an onrushing grounder
launching the throw across the diamond
shielding my eyes in a high sky
relief of snagging one in the webbing

feel of polished hardwood
crack of the sweet spot
exhilaration of connecting solidly
breaking down to first
taking a good lead off
soft slide into the base
the thrill of swiping second
the joy of crossing home
my teammates in a dog pile
sweet sweet exhaustion
knowing I left it all on the field

your arm around my shoulder
the pride in your eyes
root beer at the soda fountain
with the team after the game
riding home on the tailgate
of our old Edsel wagon

it is every year
at this time
that I think of all of this
that I think of you

how you wanted me to try pro
how the scout felt I had the arm
it is the path I didn’t take
you never made me feel sorry

thank you for these memories
thank you for your love

• • •

 

____________________________________






 

Chalk Lines

•

chalk lines laid on dirt

crack of white ash on cowhide

son’s smile is a joy

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…for more poems about other roads left untraveled, go to readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #9 – part two: That Moon

This is part 2 of my ninth post for National Poetry Month 2010



____________________________________

…this is a very sobering piece written precisely to Robert Peake’s prompt at read write poem,
and influenced by prompt #9 at Magpie Tales…

____________________________________




 

That Moon

•

that moon
that child
hold eternity’s promise in share

colorful pails on the ocean’s beach
festooned in starfish and octopus

campfire’s ‘neath a canopy of forever stars
jelly and jam on crustless bread

lipstick smeared on a giddy grin
the world of pretend

the strum of imagination
that brings song to the young heart
the thrill of dance to a child’s feet
like god’s marionette
that drives away the limp of sorrow

but now
summer’s nocturne
has robbed the colors of the day

families gather to reminisce of
the reds oranges blues
the violets and periwinkles
so as not to forget

in hopes that the joy will return
to massage the rigid cold to warmth again
the sun to re-torch the heavens

the children first see the gray descend
the gapes and gaps
the lever of lies
that loose the flaps that confine the fear

they feel the slippage
the hole in the universe
the backward motion
as all things gentle are sucked in

gray has overcome the landscape
gray is in the houses
and the homes
gray is at the dining table
black awaits in the chamber
when no one sober roams these rooms
and no one safe
is that child

when wrong things burn
bitter as paregoric
the way jugged whiskey
johnny walker
burns the throat
burns that skin
like bare knee on rough rug
like pumice on raw flesh
and winter chills the heart

when laughter bows out
and lies bow in
like the poison in a lizard’s wattle
with denial of the promise
of violet and periwinkle
oranges blues reds

but now
gray

and black waiting at the fringe
with the talon’s piercing sting
and the startled bruise
that begins the tome
of that child’s life
disappearing like smoke up a chimney

that child’s smile stowed away
in keeping for the time of that moon
and that promise
when the periwinkle will return

• • •

rob kistner © 2010

(inspired by a Michael Kenyon poem, “Feast”)

• photorendering entitled “The Edge” – by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…for more NaPoWriMo 2010 day nine poems, go to readwritepoem

NaPoWriMo #5 – Kathleen / Blossoms

This is my fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku

____________________________________




 

Kathleen

•

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

• • •





________________________




 

 

Blossoms

•

sweet pink blossoms fall

red spring buds will take their place

soon will be cherries

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

• photorendering entitled “The Key” – by: rob kistner © 2010
base image by: Getty Images
• photorendering entitled “Blossoms” – by rob kistner © 2010
base image by: Harold Davis
____________________________________

…for more personal NaPoWriMo 2010 poems: readwritepoem

Brushstrokes of the Heart

 

 

Brushstrokes of the Heart

•

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

…come see egg-zactly what’s breakin’ at Magpie Tales

NaPoWriMo #2 – The Willow / Spring

This is my second post for National Poetry Month 2010
• one free verse poem
• one haiku

____________________________________


Remembering Willow Pond…

 

The Willow

•

the old man sat quietly
day after day
hands resting on his knees
day after day
hardly moving

save to raise his hand
to brush his brow
or adjust his cap

day after day
quietly
on the same park bench
at the pond
near the same tree
same willow

you could watch him come
mid-morning

see him leave
at dinner time

day after day
sitting there
hands on his knees
quietly
same bench
same tree

one morning
as he sat there
I left my office
walked across the street
into the park
approached him
smiled
and sat down beside him
quietly

he said nothing
so we sat together
for a while
quietly
on the bench
by the tree

finally
I spoke up

why do you sit here
old man
sit here
everyday
day after day
here on this bench
watching the pond
so quietly

he tilts his head
speaks softly
I’ve come here for years
he says

but how can that be
I say
these office buildings
this park
they’re all new
how could you have come
to this park
for years

not to this park
he says
not to this park
to this tree
me
and all my friends
came to willow pond
to this tree
this old willow
for years
day after day

why
I ask
why to this tree

quiet smile
we played cards
in its shade

he explains
we talked
laughed
we listened
at the pond
in its wonderful shade
day after day
this wonderful willow

where are your friends
I ask
why are they not here
with you
on the bench

because
he hesitates
they are gone
he says finally
quietly

gone
gone where

I ask

gone
is all he says
quietly
unmoving
hands on his knees
all gone

oh
I say
I see

do you
is all he says

so why do you sit here
day after day

I ask

he stares straight ahead
and after a bit
he says
I’m listening

listening
I say
listening for what

he sits quietly
for a while
then
without changing his gaze
without raising his hands
from his knees
he says
for anything
anything familiar

a small tear
glistens
in the corner of his eye

• • •

________________________

 

 

Spring

•

purple finch sings out

budding trees are plentiful

spring is upon us

• • •

poem and haiku by: rob kistner © 2010

____________________________________

…for more NaPoWriMo 2010: readwritepoem

The Collector

 

The Collector

•

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


mute with wonder I behold
confused yet riveted
I ponder haunted as I do
then inquire of the meaning

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

• photo collage entitled “Broken Broken Broken” – by: rob kistner © 2010
_______________________________

…see other special talents at Carry On Tuesday

Graspless

 

 

Graspless

•

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

…come see what else is in hand at Magpie Tales

The Elephant

…this piece evolved from both a visual prompt (see below) on Magpie Tales, as well as a “hinge” prompt on Read Write Poem…

 

 

The Elephant

•

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

…come see what else this little elephant inspired at Magpie Tales
…and check out what’s hinging at ReadWritePoem

Running Out

 

Running Out

•

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

…discover what else is running at One Single Impression

The Return

NaPoMo poem #14

This is the fourteenth of the poems I will be writing each day here in April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

The Return

•

the ruby’d chains
sparkled and stretched away
pulling me along

as 2 cords
of diamond bright white
clustered up from behind
to nudge me onward

the precious ribbons
stranded for miles
disappearing over the horizons

the freeway had been dense
this night
as I made my way
from the busy airport
back to our beloved home
our sanctuary

the one we’d found together
deciding immediately – this was it
on that crisp spring saturday
when we were beginning
to feel we never would

the home we’d come to cherish

but finally
this turn
down our country lane

I could make it in my sleep

so familiar

I anticipate every bend
and rise
every dip

they are welcome as a friend

like the sound of my tires
as they trundle ‘cross
the narrow wooden bridge
that fords
our crystal trout stream
as it falls
brisk from mountain snow-pack

and coming round

I see the corridor
of faithful old-growth Doug’s
stepping back for me
to nestle the foothills

inviting my return
guarding my safe passage

they sway

as if to celebrate
that I am back

now
it’s left up our gravel drive

the pebble and crushed rock
crunch and clatter in stony rustle
as I traverse our hill

then swing onto our concrete carport
pause
and key the engine off

all is silent
save the tick and popping
as the engine cools

this is my favorite moment

just before I open the door
to step up
and approach the house
to bring myself to 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

then I take you in my arms
fall into your loving eyes
pull your willing body close

to wrap ‘round you
and drink you in
intoxicated

these moments
melt into sweet love making
that continues until exhaustion

we both love
when I return
happy ending, stop here…… from a business trip ……stop here, happy ending

• • •

tearful ending, read on…… but tonight ……read on, tearful ending
I do not key the engine off

I do not reach for the handle

do not open the door

I simply
sit

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 warm and soft

not since then

not since then

now
my business trips are longer

my returns
fewer

and farther between

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

To Remain

To Remain

•

moonlight
keeps dark at bay
pressing in
as night wind stirs

like mocking breath
of life now lost
to light-less realm
beyond the chill
encircling me

empty
to remain

no emotion
save grief

apples spilled
on broken stair
where rail eluded
grasping hand

no voice came
to futile cry

those lips
will not know again
sweet fruit

nor love

• • •

rob kistner © 2008