•
had not she crossed my threshold
on that september day
had not her voice
drifted like silk on a summer breeze
to wrap sheer and sweet
around my heart
had not I been drawn
like a bloom to the morning sun
had not I been captivated
as a hummingbird
by a drop of nectar
crystal on a velvet petal
had not my love come down
soft as a rolling mountain meadow
had not this dream been born
had not my life begun again
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
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
Limitless
•
• written for Writer’s Island
•
thoughts drift by gently
my mood is mellow this day
I linger at rest
dreaming of the spring breezes
that tickle my soul to life
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
the hollow wallow
aglow in the spotlight’s heat
to boast odes of praise for him
in death
who had few words of warmth for him
in life
while those who love him
pay true tribute
with searing tears
of silent grief
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
•
the hands of time swing round faster and faster
life has carved his journey in his face
the pendulum beats steady its insistence
he wonders how long can he keep this pace
he sits here four years looking back at 60
he’s known tragedy and triumph both the same
borrowed bought and sold his way to this place
leveraging his soul to play the game
an older man now gazing out his window
trying to remember how long it’s rained
alone here by the fire in contemplation
was all he lost worth what it was he gained
but sweet memories like candles softly flicker
friends and lovers cherished come and gone
held in warm embrace wrapped in his heartstrings
in his dimming years he prays they still shine on
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
this final edit inspired by prompt #24 at Writer’s Island,
prompt #23 at We Write Poems,
and prompt #74 at Carry on Tuesday.
•
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
• • •
(haiku)
•
caged beast close your eyes
have no fear of letting go
dream of wild freedom
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
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
• • •
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
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
This poem is offered in response to prompt #23 for 2010 at Writer’s Island,
the Ginsberg ‘american sentence’ is offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression.
To Soar
•
to feel the warmth of early spring sun
to wander through old growth
to see the sunset into the pacific
to breath in the fragrance of summer
to see joy in another’s eyes
to hear my child’s laughter
to be breath-taken by art
to be dazzled by autumn’s palette
to taste the richness of chocolate
to immerse in the rhythms of music
to see the morning dew sparkle
to hear the sweet lilt of a thrush
to know the quiet of snowfall
to raise my voice in song
to drift on a clear mountain lake
to get lost in poetry
to feel your gentle touch
• • •
to just try to fly is to fall short, one must expect to soar, then leap
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
This type of poem is known as a haibun, and combines prose with haiku. It is offered in response to the September 20th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.
The Taste
•
It was an embrace I’d wished had been endless, at our tearful farewell – your body supple and warm, pulsing with life.
I passed through security, turned and fixed on your gaze – prayed it was not the last time I’d look into your eyes. I wandered dazed down the ramp, to the jet that would take me to the fury of hell. I locked your face of love deep in my heart.
That cherished image proved my grasp on sanity through two years of horror – through the sting of separation, the bitter taste of war, the foul stench of death.
I return this day, facing reality at 30,000 feet, the salt of sadness on my lips. I am ashamed, frightened to see and touch you again, but I burn to do so.
I fear a kiss from my killer’s mouth, will forever defile your precious lips – lush as sweet cognac, that day we parted.
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
NOTE: this piece is by no means a condemnation of the men and women who are sent into the teeth of hell to fight, suffer, and sometimes die. Rather, it is an expression of my deep respect for what they endure, and a quiet tear for what is so often sadly lost in so doing.
•
memories of you
ripples on a mirrored lake
rise and drift gently
into the golden sunlight
carrying me on their crest
• • •
Joie de Vivre
•
clear blue summer sky
deep azure crystalline lake
cool breeze on my face
fresh scent of water lilies
ripples gently lap the boat
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
(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 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.
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