Steel Tear

IMG_9214

 
Steel Tear

~

the dream broke
like a prodigal sun
on a startled winter evening
causing him to squint
blinking away happiness
like sand in the eyes of love

you were there
the disapproving guest
at the final edit party

you took his cues
took his keys
took his shoes
took his leave

you took him for a fool

it wasn’t you didn’t want him
you said
you simply saw yourself
in a different movie
with a different ending

no broken hearts
at least
not yours

and the stranded man
in the leather chair
had my face

had no expectations
made no demands
held you responsible
for nothing

and you left the table
cashed in your winnings
climbed the winding stairs
silk purse in hand
his heart in your pocket
to place it at midnight
on your balcony sill
to watch it wither in the moonlight

he had no need for it
nor most certainly
did you

and the night lark sang
and a silver tear
fell hard as steel
from his crystal’d cheek
which you collected in a sterling box
and tossed into the sea

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2011
(revision © 2018)

Daredevil’s Dread

 

Daredevil’s Dread

~

to be shot from a cannon
into the cool night air
is really no big deal

to face a barrage
of flying knives
isn’t really that unreal

to leap through the fire
of a flaming hoop
the warmth is kind’a nice

jumping giant chasms
on two-wheeled fury
sure – let’s do it twice

to be blown up
in a speeding car
sort’a turns me on

falling 20-story
from a skyscraper
I’m up over and gone

riding upside down
on an airplane wing
it’s the only way to fly

the high trapeze
without a net
I wouldn’t bat an eye

buried alive
in a padlocked tomb
count 10 and I’ll cheat death

chained in steel
tossed in the sea
no need to hold my breath



the sphere of fear
the dome of doom
the bungee-cord freefall

to walk blazing coals
swallow deadly swords
no sweat — I’ve done them all

almost nothing scares
this bold daredevil
I am very proud to say

save the single thing
of which I’m terrified

to give my heart away



~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2010
(revised © 2018)

____________________________________

  • top 2 photos: Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus
  • bottom photo: source unknown
  • Touch of Love

  • My wife and I have enjoyed 31 years together. This is a poem I wrote to commemorate the moment we committed.

    IMG_8667

     

    Touch of Love

    ~

    three decades ago
    in the shadow of the tall ships
    nestled inter-coastal
    on the outer banks of Beaufort
    our passion burst to flame

    we bound that flashpoint moment
    in a promise of forever
    and a band of abalone
    I found there in that sunset
    on the Carolina sands

    as ever-precious
    as the diamond ring
    that now encircles in its stead
    that pearled bit of shell
    immortalized our pledge

    even to this day
    it rests next to your heart
    where it falls true and warm
    on links of purest gold
    my constant touch of love

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2018



    Click below to read more poetry at dVerse:

    Open Link Night #233

  • The Nature of Fire

    China Fire

     
    The Nature of Fire

    ~

    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

    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

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

    it’s always there
    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 © 2010
    revised © 2018

    ____________

    Get fired up at dVerse…

    Fire Up that Creativity–dVerse Poetics

    Bloody Sue

    bloodysue-web.jpg

     

    Bloody Sue

    ~

    Gather close so you might hear
    A tale of terror, a tale of fear
    Of a vigilante from beyond the grave
    Only justice did this spirit crave
    You may choose to doubt my word
    But know damned well this all occurred

    A vengeful maiden dressed in red
    7 men lured, 7 men dead
    7 men drawn to this comely miss
    7 souls lost to her lethal kiss

    A modern legend is Bloody Sue
    Her deeds of terror are bold and true
    Was she from hell or heaven’s gate
    It’s certain her victims earned their fate

    The first, the banker, a crooked man
    Stole dreams of others with his evil plan
    To own the world, to possess the lot
    Now all that’s his is a dead man’s plot
    Found with coins choked down his throat
    Clutched in his hand a bloody note
    “You greedy bastards, this could be you
    Remember well!”, signed Bloody Sue

    The second, the lawyer, a prideful sort
    Lied and cheated to win in court
    And bragged of his dishonest way
    Until violence marked his final day
    Found one morning with bashed-in head
    A bloody gavel lay on his bed
    “Bludgeoned here for his lies and scandal!”
    Read Sue’s note, wrapped ’round the handle

    The third, the bishop, a man of lust
    Molested innocent’s, betrayed their trust
    Kept a journal of his lurid deeds
    A trophy to all his prurient needs
    Found on his pulpit with a bloody lap
    His private parts in his bishop’s cap
    “Beware vile predators throughout this land!”
    Sue had carved in the bishop’s hand

    Fourth was the baker, a gluttoness fool
    Treated his workers horribly cruel
    Paid wages that left an empty plate
    While he gorged himself – he ate and ate
    One day at the bakery’s opening hour
    He was found dead in a vat of flour
    Across the vat, bold and big,
    In chocolate icing, Sue wrote “pig!”

    Then the lazy chief of the town’s police
    Unsolved cases filled his valise
    Crime and violence everywhere
    While he snoozed in his office chair
    One day shots rang loud and clear
    Sue riddled the chief from ear to ear
    “Get another chief, get this damned work done!”
    Said the note from Sue, found by the gun

    The office gossip, and his jealous way
    Spread lies and rumors on the phone all day
    His envy the ruin of many good names
    Destroying lives with his vicious games
    Sue used his phone to strangle him
    And left a voice mail dire and grim
    “To all who ruin a reputation
    You too will die from strangulation!”

    Last… the radio talk-show host
    Spreading propaganda, coast to coast
    Pawn of a racist politician
    Thought he was above suspicion
    Electrocuted on his live broadcast
    Sue dealt justice hard and fast
    She was heard to say as hot sparks flew
    “Beware you haters, I’ll fry you too!”

    So that’s the story of Bloody Sue
    Believe it or not, that’s up to you
    A brutal beauty in scarlet cape
    From her vengeful hands there’s no escape
    She will draw from you your final breath
    If she marks you with her kiss of death

    Some say a ghost who haunts this earth
    Others claim an angel, of heavenly birth
    But all agree there’s one thing true

    If you’re a son-of-a-bitch,
    She’ll come for you

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2008

    __________

    collage at top: “Scarlett Lady”by: rob kistner © 2008

    Crimson Witch

    6CD88E0B-F0C6-4302-A0A1-2017FA31A5A7

     

    Crimson Witch

    ~

    fog rolled ‘cross the lowlands
    smothering damp and languid
    chilled and dense with dread
    ominous and threatening

    twilight having receeded
    moonlight labored hard
    shouldering its way
    through the thickening shroud

    the gnarled shape of leaf-dead trees
    with their spindly spiken’d branches
    thrust knobbed and twisted skyward
    disappearing into the hovering murk

    muffled deep within the gloom
    the throbbing drone of gathered voices
    locked in dark entangled chant
    foreboding  as a funeral dirge

    the moonlit fog glowed smokey silver
    stirred and tumbled by the night wind
    the trunken’d trees bent snd swayed uneven
    slumping like the huddled coven beneath them

    the blood-thick sterling fog breathed
    wafting between thick and thin
    there could be seen in veiled glances
    a menacing black-hooded presence

    and laid upon a grey rock slab
    resplendent in a crimson cloak of satin
    a comely beauty hair of brilliant red
    still and quiet as a corpse

    but a fire burned within her eyes
    deep and green as precious emerald
    lips synced with the hooded presence
    forming in a demon’s prayer

    the crimson goddess slowly rising
    floating off above the rock
    as the figure clad in the hood of darkness
    raised his arms high above his head

    came the goddess standing upright
    feet now lowering upon the altar
    her cloak gently flowed and billowed
    then fell open to reveal her naked

    looking down at the hooded figure
    whose hands crackled amber lightening
    and reaching forward sure and slow
    laid those blazing hands upon her

    in a burst of golden fire
    the goddess’s lips began to wildly twitch
    when in a voice to freeze one’s marrow
    she cried out, “I have life again!”

    all those ’round her bowed in worship
    then circled in a crazen coven’s dance
    to exclaim in voices full and resonant
    “your reign of darkness begins now priestess,
    rejoice! tis the season of the crimson witch!”

    15E79A6D-131C-4A8F-83C5-31E41C4A8E9F

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2018

     

    32AD0E85-B0A5-4D6D-B19A-E51CD04E0C53DAY 13

    Love’s Dance

    image
     
    Love’s Dance

    ~

    he feels the weight of her thigh
    pressing against his

    the flesh of her hip
    urgent against his groin

    the warmth
    as he responds involuntarily

    a heat spreads through him
    a quickening of pulse

    he swells and swoons
    growing rigid and eager

    a deep need overtakes him

    he reaches ’round her
    firmly encircling her waist
    with his strong arm
    bending her forward
    with the power of his body

    his other hand frees himself
    he enters her fully
    consumed by her passion

    begins a dance of dizzying desire

    his urges hot and husky
    on her ear and cheek
    they churn in slow pleasure

    building in lustful pace and tension
    they dance and dance
    spinning into a carnal fury

    a great release
    sweeps over them

    they melt together
    in fevered bliss
    matching breath for slowing breath

    his lips
    soft on the nape of her neck
    they drift to earth
    entwined in the joy
    the afterglow
    of love’s lingered embrace

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2015

    Our True Work

    Something life’s experiences have taught me: seeing the world for what it is makes you smart, envisioning the world for what it can be – makes you wise…

     

    Our True Work

    •

    there are countless contradictions
    in the elements of the work we do
    and conflictions as we strive
    but bring these not to table

    for I am you
    and you are me
    and we are all together
    in this constant labor
    for our daily bread

    and this toil to sustain the body
    this does not feed the spirit
    this is not our true work

    to lift someone in need
    to measure well in tolerance
    to seek the components of peace
    to create enduring possibility

    this is the true work
    in the final sweep
    ‘round the face of time

    this is what the soul eats

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales and OSI

    Silent

     

    Silent

    ~

    do you hear the autumn wind
    stirring in the branches

    do you hear the leaves rustle

    do you hear my breath
    whispering your name

    do you hear my heart beat

    do you hear my tears fall

    or is it silent

    silent as the light-less realm
    that hauntingly engulfs my soul

    silent as that night
    when apples spilled
    on the broken stair
    where rail eluded
    your grasping hand

    silent as your futile cry
    when no voice came
    to grace your lips

    tender lips
    that parted gently
    to hold my kiss

    lips

    that will not know again
    sweet fruit

    nor love

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011

     

    poem & image above inspired by visual prompt below

    * linked 2011 at Magpie Tales

    * linked 2020 at Poets & Storytellers

    Spared


     
    Spared

    ~

    how I do desire
    the damp dreary days
    of february

    when my forlorned
    fallen face
    is commonplace

    when no one intrudes
    to question
    what’s the matter

    because all around
    are caught up in the blues

    oh if only
    you could find it
    in your heart

    to forgive
    this sadly lost
    and broken man

    who much too late
    understands
    he was a fool

    and in his sorrow
    understands
    why you refuse

    but how I wish
    ill-tempered weather
    would ensue

    to drive the joyful
    all around me
    to indoor spaces

    so I’d be spared
    the pain
    of smiling faces

    and the bitter
    bitter memory
    of losing you

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011

  • Image above entitled “Red Umbrella” by: Christopher Shay
  • This was originally linked to Tess Kincaid’s “Magpie Tales”

    ______________________

    How Poetry Comes to Me

    by: Gary Snyder

    It comes blundering over the
    Boulders at night, it stays
    Frightened outside the
    Range of my campfire
    I go to meet it at the
    Edge of the light

  • Already Vanished

     

    Vanished

    •

    and he saw them leaving
    and he opened his mouth in farewell
    but only dust escaped

    and broken dreams

    and a spoiled promise
    from long ago
    left too long on the shelf

    so he raised his hand
    to gesture a wave
    but he was rigid
    and could not

    and they did not hear him
    and they did not see him

    for he had already vanished

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Sneakin’ Up On Breakfast

    “One of my former band members, who was with me in the band in the 1960’s, that inspired this poem from 2011, came to visit me a couple months ago. I had written a haibun at the time in his honor, which I shared here on dVerse. That haibun was inspired by this original poem. I just learned that he died Monday in Geneva, Switzerland. In his memory I am sharing this original poem today, August 22, 2019.”

    …originally written for Day #19, NaPoWriMo 2011…



     
    Sneakin’ Up On Breakfast

    ~

    our final set was 3:00 am
    the gear’s broke down and stowed
    now here we sit
    with smuggled single malt
    and the crusty sunrise special

    me and my bles-sed band
    bliss’d out from giggin’
    bleary-eyed and blasted
    mixin’ with fellow players
    who’ve now
    laid down their last licks
    for this night

    among willing groupies
    the loud hangers on
    and my sad friend Joey
    just back from Viet Nam

    we’re sittin’ and chattin’
    with the steel-heart working girls
    and sweet soul-bruised painted strippers
    they love us ‘cause we’re brothers
    in this family of the night

    all in the flesh parade
    of burnt drink slingers
    and tired cocktail mules

    hipsters grifters drifters
    and slick gamblers
    from behind the sealed doors
    of those private upstairs rooms

    swell perfumed boys
    and sisters of the leather
    queens and trannies
    pimps pushers and the cops

    huddled stark as morgue mates
    hidin’ from those cruel first rays
    like a pack of squandered vampires

    ready to scurry off
    to well-curtained rooms
    or other dark holes of despair

    it’s time to make that final score
    whatever gets you through
    ‘till sundown strikes up the band again

    I’ll tell ya
    ain’t this show biz grand
    it’s cirque du morning madness
    all sneakin’ up on breakfast

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 4/19/11

    ____________________________

    This photo below put me in mind of the 60’s when my band played the all-night R&B clubs in Newport Ky — the ‘wild’ night-world just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. It sparked this poem.

    …originally linked at Magpie Tales

     

  • Click below to read other poems at dVerse:

    Open Link Night #249

  • Poet In Arms

     

    Poet

    abandon vague image
    do not weave a fabric of myth
    or speak to us in grand verse
    telling of the song of the spheres
    or the days before this dark time

    you see many things poet
    but you talk in riddles
    you avoid the cold hard way
    for the soft path of platitudes
    of metaphors
    of meter and rhyme
    but this is not the time

    look poet
    look into the flames
    the fire of human suffering

    feel it burn your eyes
    char your soul
    tell us how that feels

    tell us how to see
    with our own eyes
    help us see the real place of light

    you must tell us poet
    in the power of plain language
    in the clear voice of truth
    tell us what is real

    we will listen

    with a pure heart of justice
    raise your shield of words
    lift your pen poet
    like a sword

    show us the grip

    we will save the beauty
    celebrate the wonder
    protect the unique splendor

    or we will join the battle
    to strike down imbalance
    to drive away sorrow

    lead us poet
    we will follow

    *
    rob kistner © 2011

    Written for: Magpie Tales

    Poetry at: dVerse

    Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

    Poetry at: earthweal

    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