and by prompt #139 at One Single Impression.
•
go down in trial
endure the tribulation
emerge rapt in grace
steeled by the tempering fire
molten molded pure and strong
• • •
Emerge In Grace
and by prompt #139 at One Single Impression.
Category: love
and by prompt #139 at One Single Impression.
Evening Grace
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
Emerald Eyes
also offered “off-topic” to the October 15th prompt at Big Tent Poetry.
Emerald Eyes
•
emerald eyes captivate
fix me in their gaze
lift me
carry me
to the realm of unfinished dreams
they strip me of fear
longing
of inhibition
to render me transparent
I rise weightless
unburdened of care
an untethered being of pure moment
soaring through universes within universes
a traveler in time and space
ever-expanding consciousness
aware of all
riding the strand continuum
drawing it forward
reeling it back
slipping all temporal bounds
a being of universal presence
adrift in the infinite now
lost in the mystery
veiled in those emerald eyes
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Champion
•
that illuminate the field of glory
nor midst the din of exaltation
if you seek a hero’s story
look instead outside the glare
in the quiet place beyond
where no accolades are strewn
and no ivy laurels donned
where daily life is hard
and the living less than grand
where the strength to persevere
depends on the extended hand
where the poor struggle without
the weak endeavor day to day
it’s here by selfless sweat of brow
the brave endure to find a way
willing to give all they’ve got
to daily do what must be done
to share when even they have not
to face their fear not turn and run
to reach and help the one’s in need
to fight the fight that must be fought
more than the words — to do the deed
to stand and smile not shrink distraught
it’s among these who seldom win
yet rise each day and strive again
it’s here your search should begin
it’s here you’ll find your champion
• • •
(tanka)
•
kind words quell salt tears
strong hand steadies unsure step
warm smile calms heart’s fear
no praise sought or expected
quiet humble champion
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Baby Cakes
This poem is offered in response to prompt #22 at We Write Poems.
•
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
To Soar
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
…is to soar
• • •
to just try to fly is to fall short, one must expect to soar, then leap
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Deep Azure
This poem is offered in response to prompt #21 at We Write Poems.
Deep Azure
•
on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
as if abandoned by the waters of earth
it shoulders its way through the culverts
in search of mother sea
this day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets
lover and beloved
we sit by the morning window
with tea and curiosity
we talk
for this moment
our souls spill one into the other
until I am distracted
your lips continue sculpting words
but I’ve fallen into your deep azure eyes
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Over The Edge
also prompt 22 at Writer’s Island,
and prompt #135 at One Single Impression.
•
From down there, down there,
it’s coming from down there.
From where — down there?
Yes Sis, I swear!
That horrible smell
that’s filling the air,
the one that’s most certainly
impossible to bear,
is coming from that women
with the massive blue hair
sitting alone on the patio chair,
on the deck of the house,
that’s below us — right there!
What a putrid aroma,
you’d think that she’d care.
There are simply some things
that one never should share,
like the stink that is rising
from that patio chair,
on the deck of the house
that’s below us down there.
And the hideous color
of that mountain of hair —
I can’t help it, can’t help it,
I can’t help but stare.
It’s a tangled and horrible monument to
a disgusting and eye-blinding
shade of bright blue —
and it’s causing a feeling of nausea too!
I must look away my heads starting to whirl,
and I feel that my toes are beginning to curl,
I fear over the edge here I’m going to hurl —
and I don’t want to do that in front of a girl.
Maybe I’m wrong
but I would assume,
if one’s going to bathe
in a noxious perfume,
they’d at least have the manners
to exhibit some pride,
and not foul the ozone,
instead — stay inside.
Not to be the forecaster
of gloom and of doom,
but keep the eco-disaster
contained to one room.
And if you’re chromatically challenged my friend,
consider the others that you might offend.
A monumentally grotesque rat’s nest of blue,
is not something I care to look at on you!
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Mag 33
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.
Ripples
and by prompt #134 at One Single Impression.
•
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
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
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
Breakthrough
and offered for prompt 132 at One Single Impression,
and for prompt 231 at Sunday Scribblings….
•
rise up
clad in colors of a joyful life
rebuke the strife
tilt against convention
the prevailing norm
is a toxic storm
buck the winds of rebuff
ignore the false contention
stare down the face of ridicule
if buffeted by cruel
condemnation
shun the foolish
sadly blown off course
by the brutish force
of blind conformation
be not inclined to fear
nor falter
choose instead
to quell their mindless dread
and so to alter
the contradiction
which grips their head
stay one’s ground
leaning hard on raw conviction
wait the weight
until one’s strength is found
be anchored bold
and deeply hold
to the true and genuine
until your patience spent
revives again
do not resent
remain flexible
to withstand the blows
resisting those
who would see you swayed
and lowly bent
who would see
your spirit broken
for so to savor
instead
raise high your head
don’t ever waver
be never rigid
brittle
prone to break
do not forsake
your heart song
eschew the wayward
noisy throng
breakthrough
wisdom is a supple soul
struck through
by true enlightenment
pierced clean and strong
by wonder
bleeding tolerance
and promise
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
Soulfruit
version 1
I taste you like a peach
sweet juice trickles to my chin
I bite you like an Apple
your crisp laughter fills my ears
I devour you like a strawberry
tart and succulent on my tongue
I drink you like thick nectar
you flow rich into my soul
I desire you completely
longing to be fulfilled
I consume you wholly
flushed with wanton pleasure
____
version 2
my mouth on you
soft
like a peach
you glisten
trickle from my lips
I bite you
sweet
like an apple
your hushed breath
staccato crisp
you taste
tart as a strawberry
succulent
as love’s nectar
a delicious
wanton pleasure
____
rob kistner © 2010
