Limitless
•
• written for Writer’s Island
Tag: tragedy
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…
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
The Mourning
•
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
Wedges
Wedges
•
he was slicing wedges
prepping for the night crew
when the stranger entered
walked quietly to the bar
it happened fast
no one saw him draw
the shot traumatized the patrons
no one saw his face
he vanished into the evening
before anyone comprehended
the frail thread of life
severed in a heartbeat
• • •
rob kistner © 3/1/11
…written for Magpie Tales
Panther
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.
•
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
No First Ink
and in response to prompt #73 on Carry On Tuesday,
also in response to prompt #189 at Three Word Wednesday.
•
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
The Taste
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.
lips lush as cognac
open softly to kisses
urgently linger
open softly to kisses
urgently linger
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.
so different now
my hands angry with bloodshed
innocence is lost
my hands angry with bloodshed
innocence is lost
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.
Mute
•
there is no half-eaten answer
with which to embellish
or to skirt the evidence
the stench of truth
permeates the debris of proof
in a swarm of crusted guilt
the orphaned child of supposition
abandoned on the dock of iniquity
impaled by the chant of sterile innuendo
wearing a temporary backbone
fashioned of suffering
and the tears of innocence
to witness the violent clash
of malevolence and courage
and remain forever mute
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Believe
and in response to the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales seen at bottom of post.
• image entitled “Weary” – colorized, digitally rendered by: rob kistner 2010
•
I’d like to make myself believe
the dream I dreamt as a young man
that we can change the world’s heart
to embrace love for one another
I’d like to make myself believe
people are by nature good
that we can live in peace
and make the world a better place
I’d like to make myself believe
universal understanding
is a common goal
of the peoples of this planet
I’d like to make myself believe
we haven’t lost our faith
in these sacrosanct ideals
of an elevated life
I’d like to make myself believe
there still exists somewhere
a shared and nurtured vision
of a paradise on earth
I’d like to make myself believe
but empty runs the hourglass
again I’ve heard the daily news
and I’m so weary, and brokenhearted
yes, I’d like to make myself believe
I’d like to, really like to
but sometimes now I even wonder
if anyone ever truly did
• • •
_________________
Time Running Out
•
once demure discourse
now rhetoric to offend
volatile neighbors
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
• haiku above also offered for the visual prompt Mag 23 at Magpie Tales,
and the September 15th prompt at Three Word Wednesday.
Mag 23
Final Sentinel
as generations
moved forward
as civilization
painstakingly
progressed
set foothold
knowledge
unfolded
slowly
I observed
the millenniums
of human endeavor
as they awakened
to self-reliance
less dependent
on hive mentality
mastering machines
eliminating conflict
striving for truth
ever evolving
I saw
nature
the world
reshaped
tempered
resilient
proud
I stand tall
thrust skyward
closer to heaven
than any living thing
a perpetual presence
the constant sentinel
a witness to triumph
would
that all that
were true
I watched helplessly
as generations receded
as empires crumbled
greed ran rampant
wisdom ebbed
civilization
imploded
I observed
millenniums
of human folly
misguided logic
flawed reasoning
as they flailed
stumbling
to a cold
isolated
world
disconnected
from one another
from the environment
serving their machines
serving their avarice
perfecting violence
racing to ruination
becoming aliens
in a mad eden
disillusioned
depraved
diseased
until
they were
no more
I watched through tears
as the natural world
slowly declined
diminished
withered
scarred
died
putrid
toxic air
permeates
burnt terrain
to far horizons
and now I stand
thrusting skyward
in this decaying hell
praying for a heaven
the only living thing
the pitiful survivor
the final sentinel
time’s witness
to tragedy
watching
the end
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 2018)
_____________
Mother-less
(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
You & Me
and prompt #18 at We Write Poems,
also the September 6th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
and the September 8th prompt at Three Word Wednesday…
(a poetic quadratych)
•
The Secret
what I said was
don’t touch
go away
leave me be
while inside
I cried out
draw near
stay with me
you are light
you are pure
you are joy
you are free
I am not
I am dark
I am beast
can’t you see
without you
there is much
you don’t know
about me
The Revelation
I lived at the light’s edge
that pooled in the night
on the bleak back streets
of the sad brokenhearted
I hid in the anguish
of the loveless who cowered
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten
I fed on the grief
of the mourners who wailed
for their horrific loss
in the ruins of death
this was my heartscape
black as mid-winter night
a lightless horizon
no glimmer of hope
trusting was toxic
no foothold for love
relations were carnage
scattered lifeless and cold
The Change
’til a beautiful being
eyes brilliant and true
approached from afar
bearing tinder of love
the graceful arrangement
was deftly ignited
and patiently tended
the fire gently stoked
afraid to come forward
I held outside the glow
but your kindness drew me
we stood by the blaze
with passion it roared
its light pierced my blackness
its heat thawed my soul
my cold heart was warmed
The Miracle
you wrapped yourself ‘round me
gazed into my eyes
your kiss soft and serene
was the essence of healing
with you in my life
I am darkness removed
soaring and weightless
radiant and rising
vital and caring
my spirit’s renewed
illuminated wholly
by a new dawn of dreams
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
The Box
and the August 25th prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
and prompt #18 at Writer’s Island.
…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.
Continue reading The Box
Old Man’s Prayer
and visual prompt Mag 27 at Magpie Tales (see image at bottom),
also offered for prompt 129 at One Single Impression,
and for prompt 228 at Sunday Scribblings….
•
the grind became my home
and I a conduit of worry
could I keep the crazy pace
years spun wild as a top
around faster ever faster
life layering its patina
etched deeply in my face
suddenly no longer young
now looking back from 63
I’ve known triumph I’ve known tragedy
they’ve marked me both the same
I’ve borrowed bought and sold
strayed through several shades of grey
but have I leveraged my soul
just to play the fleeting game
I pray I will not be an old man
gazing lonely out my window
trying to remember
exactly how long it has rained
not sitting silent by the fire
lost in contemplation
wondering if all I lost
was worth what it was I gained
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Mag 27
Machine Mind
the August 9th prompt at Big Tent Poetry,
the August 11th prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
and prompt #65 at Carry On Tuesday.
they didn’t stop to think if they should…”
Dr. Ian Malcolm
•
you wink awake at morning’s light
beckoning me to focused task
prompting me of promise
you collaborate
in my keeping touch
in work dispatched
in thoughts transcribed
in matters pure creative
you are my portal into virtual space
to probe mysteries
the vast unknown
the tool I wield
to unearth facts
dig the dirt
to search for truth
tightly spun
within the web
you tend my life
make all cogs turn
my instrument of whim
device of my distraction
are you my submissive
or master of my will
when you’ve surpassed my vision
will you serve me still
have I the power to shut you down
turn my back
walk away
to truly let you keep
in the deep subconscious
does your machine mind
really sleep
• • •
TechReGret
(a lighthearted tanka)
•
my laptop’s frozen
and my cell phone’s out of range
it’s at these times when
I think how life used to be
hand-written letters have soul
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
IN CLOSING: We live a in a world immersed, if not drowning, in technology. The idealistic and naive early vision was to create technology to serve us, make life easier, less complicated – but the joke is on us. We now serve the technology, and life is more complicated — traveling at a pace we struggle to keep up with. We’ve leveraged our peace of mind in the misguided pursuit of leisure. Is there a remedy? If we do not open a global dialog focused at finding ‘balance’, the situation will, I believe, resolve itself – and the world will not like, and may not survive, the ultimate solution.
As James Martin, one of our great modern thinkers and author of the “The Meaning of the 21st Century” points out in his most optimistic and uplifting book, man stands on the threshold of either the greatest era in human history, or the end of life as we know it – the outcome rests in our hands.
I wrote an essay back in 2007 which deals with humankind’s strange relationship with the technology we’ve created. You can click here if you would like to read it. …rob