Me Too


image by Zelko Nedic

Me Too

•

why do you find me dog
why will you not let me be
you belonged to her

but she is gone

you know this is so
don’t you dog

I see it in your eyes
the sadness there
sadness I recognize

the sorrow
pressing in
as these night winds stir
darkness pressing in

but she’s gone boy
lost into the lightless realm
beyond this chill encircling me

you shiver
you feel it too
don’t you boy

but I’ve no emotion here
save grief
as is buried
in your worried whimpering

I’ve no good comfort here
but come
come here boy
that’s a good dog

I know
I know
me too boy

oh gawd
me too

• • •

rob kistner © 2012

• this piece inspired by this visual prompt at Magpie Tales

Laughing

…here’s in keeping with my ‘dark’ fantasy that all clowns have bizarre, perhaps criminal pasts…

Laughing

•

gaze upon me
if you will
my countenance crafted
to fool
and thrill

I’ve spent years in greasepaint
fear
and sorrow
I rue the past
I dread tomorrow

they call me laughing bob

it wasn’t intentional
you see

I only wanted her to hear me
to know my heart

but her laughter
her hollow
taunting laughter
her laughter wouldn’t stop

it wouldn’t
and I needed her to hear me
to understand how I felt

but the laughing
and laughing
the incessant laughing
I simply couldn’t have the laughing

so I made it stop

now I hide behind this painted smile
now everyone is laughing
and laughing

but I no longer hear

• • •

rob kistner © 2012

• this piece inspired by this visual prompt at Magpie Tales

Startled man

…poem for day 8 of National Poetry Month 2012…

 

Startled Man

•

she is birthed
in his fractured dreams
as weak as a forest fawn
helpless as a snowflake
falling on a May predawn

he needs her frail
for at his sheltered core
he’s filled with mounting doubt
knows his time of tyranny
is quickly running out

but strong of will
she knows her mind
and speaks direct to what she sees
startled by her forthright way
he wants her down upon her knees

threatened
he seeks to dominate
silences her upraised voice
to keep her under thumb
he shunts her right of choice

she is captive
to his fearful heart
sustained in twisted fantasy
conjured by his crippled soul
stillborn in his fallacy

this seed
of possibility
this herald
to set the bitter free
now a lifeless
hollow
woman-husk
whose sorrow
haunts the growing dusk
whose spirit withers
in the dimming light
as nightmares rise
in the coming night
whose tears
parch the barren land
now denies
his outstretched hand

his courage is strained
to its final strand
as hope dies
for the startled man

• • •

rob kistner © 2012

• linked at Magpie Tales

Morning’s Pardon

…morning brings we fallen mortals forgiveness and hope…

 

Morning’s Pardon

•

fallen into night’s embrace
held down by dark shadows
I writhe in the arms of nightmare

would that I could rise
into the light of dawn’s nod
but I’m flesh, weak, consumed by flesh

purity laid raw entangled in my sin
skin to skin with my obsession
restrained to roil in my transgression

but soon the light of morne
will fold itself upon me pardoned
to pray I not be too far drawn asunder

• • •

rob kistner © 2012

• linked at Magpie Tales

The Dimming

 

The Dimming

•

here is the change

the forgetting

the slipping away
into the haze of memory

the frustration
of no longer being able
and still
the burning longing to…
remember

and you
dimming in this fog
midst the times we have cherished
the places we have loved
fading beyond reach

an ever-mounting loneliness
like so many vacant seats

empty

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

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 at Magpie Tales

Hope

 

Hope

•

I lift myself quietly
very quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect
soaked with my nightmares

I am again awake
from another dark night
that began with fear
fear I might not survive
and ends in sorrow
realizing I did

I rise
make my way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed
in a heap on the floor
un-moving
save a twitch of the head

a head which now harbors demons
where nocturnal angels of sweet release
had lain down lush upon it
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver in the soured vein

this wreckage is my mother

I stop but for a glance
verifying life
then move on head down
angle to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash my face
lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely

strange eyes
hold me in the mirror
broken as my heart

eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness

grief courses through me
weighing upon my being
burning into my heart

I want to cry out
but there is no one here to hear me
no hero that can help me

driven by instinct to survive
by urgency to flee
I shudder away the paralyzing despair

in this dank food-less morning
in this ruined single room
in this coat-less chill of predawn
I gather up my books
step lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets
heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams

I duck and dodge
in and out of shadows
praying to once again avoid the evil
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled bricken’d canyons

that rolls slow and lethal
gripping cold blue steel
in predatory drive-by

evil
seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake

evil
which if diligence should fail
I fear will consume my soul

deliberately I continue
until at last I find my way
to the building
to the classroom
to my desk

to the only hope
to which I dare cling

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

this poem inspired by image below

• linked at Magpie Tales

• also linked at d’Verse

Silence – two reflections

These two poetic reflections are unrelated, beyond their focus on silence. The first reflection here considers what it is to fall into the deepening silence of old age. The second reflection looks at the silence that causes, and also results from repression…

 

1ST REFLECTION

Endings

•

shrouded by evening in waning october
as autumn tumbles towards winter
is to know the losing of the light
the ever growing darkness
the advance of the cold
the time of endings
death’s due vigil
deep silence

how do I abide this season

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

2ND REFLECTION

Silenced

•

escape was an improbability
as was understanding
opinions regarding outcome
ignored altogether
fate sealed with no discourse
executed with an air of entitlement

when one has no arms to flail
no fists to clench
no fingers to point
gestures of dissent are sorely limited
rights easily wrest away
freedom falls beyond grasp

inevitable
when one has no voice

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

poem “Silenced” inspired by image below

• linked at Magpie Tales

King of Sunrise

 

King of Sunrise

•

on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
held hostage by tire and curb
as if abandoned by the waters of earth

it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of mother sea

this day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

me and the first edition
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly serenaded by the 5:00 AM news

I read
occasionally glimpse the screen
grow troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious

in this moment
the tv drones
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare distracted

the announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I’ve fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this world

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales

Images – a ten year vigil

…lest we ever forget

 

 

 

Images


•

images

unreal
unfathomable images

the graceful glide
engulfed by the spire
in a roar of golden orange

horribly beautiful

perversely mesmerizing

obscene
devastating images

torrents of humanity
raining down

desperation their only escape

masses of humanity
racing
to outrun the unbelievable

praying
to be delivered from the inconceivable

traumatic images

shrines of free commerce
consumed
by the unbearable weight
of their fragile significance
plummeting to earth
in a cloud of self-destruction

heartbreaking images

screaming
dazed
terrified souls
consumed
by the unbearable weight of the moment

staggering onward
to outdistance the surging roll
of all-engulfing
pulverized aftermath

courageous images

battered
determined
tireless heroes

those who were called
who served unselfishly

some
who gave the ultimate service

haunting images

color
gender
ethnicity
wiped away
from the ashen-grey faces
of the traumatized throngs

now just masks of calamity

all made equal
by horror and grief

one nation
under siege
inconsolable
with tragedy and sorrow
for all

unforgettable images
burned into our hearts

• • •

rob kistner © 9/11/09

 

Disappearing

 

Disappearing

•

I now move in the world unseen
I am transparent
a fading glimpse
caught in the darkened corner
of an ever dimming eye

where once I blocked the sun
I am but a shadow
moving between shadows
at the edge of light
without form

once a voice
that thundered ‘cross the distance
called all near to listen
in doing so was heard
now hardly just a whisper

my footsteps
shook the ground in passing
now leave but faint a trace
barely form and then are gone
as if I am no longer here

yet here I am
worn thin and weary
not strength to hold the hands of time
not sound to bid a fair goodbye
quickly disappearing

dissolving into the dust of age
gone before I’ve left

• • •

rob kistner © 2011



The Revenant, 1949, Andrew Wyeth

• linked at Magpie Tales

Clown

 

Clown

•

I’m the sad little clown with the frowning face
the round red nose and the great big tear
this meek facade and silly sham
belie the horror that I engineer

life’s dealt me cold my hand is slack
not one queen no king nor ace
so violence now dwells in me
masked behind my woeful face

no one suspects the evil soul
that festers deep in this funny fool
they know not the monster here
my gentle sheen conceals the cruel

they don’t realize a broken heart
a ruined life makes one quite mad
they simply see the pitiful
the painted face that looks so sad

the shaggy coat the baggy pants
the red suspenders the big white glove
they do not know it hides the hand
that choked the life from the one they love

town after town state after state
bodies mount in the circus’ wake
in the dead of night at the dark of moon
in frenzied fever each life I take

each beautiful each innocent
each unaware that they would die
there will be more on the road ahead
one for every tear you made me cry

when the circus comes and the tents go up
the people cheer in each sleepy town
because the poor fools just don’t know
who’s really come is the killer clown

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

_____________________

for two more tales of murder written in dark rhyme click “more”

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

Junebug

 

Junebug

•

how impertinent
moth and junebug

what’s with all this buzzing chatter
you’re bump and thump and all a’clatter
worrying with the frontporch light
steaming on this august night
such racket over a minor matter

while here below you
my heart breaks in silence

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

• linked at Magpie Tales and OSI

Sea Song

• this poem linked at Writer’s Island and One Single Impression

 

Sea Song

•

sad she comes
everyday
to these empty shores
on wings of memory
to serenade this sea

a song of longing
bowed on strings
of a broken heart
mournful for the one
lost to these silent fathoms

her tears
steady as the mists
relentless swept away
by these cold
indifferent waves

only they
know where her lover lies
so everyday she comes
taunted by these tides
to seek their mystery

and every night
darkness falls
chill upon this deep

her forlorn refrain
shatters in the moonlight
the sea holding cruel tight
to its precious secret

• • •

rob kistner © 2011

_________________________

TWO OTHER RECENT POEMS:


“And So”


“The Sync”