Swept Away

  • A bluesman’s life and soul: “Music gives me goose-bumps, especially when created from the heart, by a genuine human spirit…”
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    Swept Away

    (- REDUX 2019 -)

    ~

    memphis red
    no longer is

    gray now shines
    from a balding head
    filled with scarlet embers

    memories still burn
    a fired spirit

    too deep for coddled mortals
    to fully fathom

    red is real
    red is legend

    his tales of pain
    of injustice
    the lore of the big muddy

    his eyes
    earthy brown
    turbulent as that river

    his stare
    a deep current
    impossible to escape
    you’re swept away

    his voice
    a tempered edge
    honed by blues

    broadleaf husky
    thick as sorghum
    smooth as beale street bourbon

    the cf martin
    swings from a leathered neck
    on a tattered strap
    stretched and shaped
    by the heft of sorrow
    poured into the soundhole

    marked and scarred
    by years of burden
    of witness

    its character and patina
    bear testament
    to a genuine soul

    cracked and seasoned hands
    reach with suffered care
    to wrap the fingerboard
    in love

    callused digits
    yellowed by habit
    depress taut strands
    no longer catgut

    blood and bone
    grip
    connect
    sculpting emotions

    true life
    ensnared in sitka spruce
    and spiraled steel

    knowing strains rise
    chords of loss

    rhythmic stomp
    stinging verse
    of broken promise
    failed love

    of dirt field
    cruel street
    back alley
    of harsh wisdom

    resonate to fill this space
    to break my heart
    to steal my soul

    swept away

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2007

    __________________________

    photo rendering above entitled: “Knowing”
    rendered by: rob kistner © 2007

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    Reaper Groom

    A MURDER MYSTERY

    I’ve always been fascinated by who-done-it’s and classic horror stories, so I was inspired to write this piece with a ‘retro’ gothic feel.

    Lyle, the socially awkward, seemingly milquetoast villain of this tale has a ‘killer’ obsession. A shy, mild-mannered church organist; he is ‘changed’ into a murdering menace — by loneliness and rejection.

    BE WARNED: This poem, and the collage I created to accompany it, are both a bit graphic — in a noir-tongue-in-cheek sort of way.

    I invite you to enjoy, “Reaper Groom”.

    reaper-groom500d.jpg

    collage above entitled: “Thief of Hearts” — by: rob kistner © 2008

    ___________

    Reaper Groom

    ~

    backlit by a lightening flash
    a figure scurried ‘cross the yard
    between the gravestones he did dash
    head down low, and running hard

    dressed in cape of velvet black
    he seemed to vanish from our sight
    but then we saw him double back
    he would not escape tonight

    elusive as a demon’s shadow
    ghost-like — he could disappear
    but no more, this scourge of sorrow
    finally, we were drawing near

    surround and capture, was the plan
    the hounds had tracked him to this place
    this had to be our wanted man
    though none had seen his evil face

    we were sworn to bring him down
    bloodthirsty was this man — and cruel
    he’d caused such horror in our town
    if he escaped, we’d look the fool

    the target of our townsfolk’s hate
    he must be caught this beast of doom
    he’d killed so many brides to date
    we knew him as the “Reaper Groom”

    he took the lives of countless bride
    murdered them by dark of night
    once betrothed they couldn’t hide
    death was sure to be their plight

    marriage took an awful blow
    as one by one our maidens fled
    our bachelors’ ire began to grow
    there were no wives to share their bed

    this had to stop — no maids for men
    it wasn’t natural, wasn’t right
    this curse would never be again
    it would end, right here, tonight

    we had him cornered in our net
    he’d not escape our clutch this time
    he owed this town an awful debt
    he’d pay quite dearly for his crime

    we closed in slowly, with great care
    we’d make sure he couldn’t run
    we deftly caught him in our snare
    and gathered round him, every one

    we took him roughly in this place
    and chained him to a stony block
    and brought a torch to light his face
    then gasped, and staggered back in shock

    this couldn’t be, not this poor fool
    this shy man of timid smile
    we sought a monstrous evil ghoul
    this was bashful lonely Lyle

    Lyle played organ every Sunday
    and lead the hymns, as we would sing
    our fiend escaped, we’d get him one day
    and when we did, for sure he’d swing

    it wasn’t Lyle, it was another
    Lyle was not the type, you see
    Lyle lived with his aging mother
    so we’d set lonely Lyle free

    but Lyle spoke up in quiet voice
    don’t turn me lose, please, I forbid it
    you see you really have no choice
    cause I’m your man, that’s right, I did it

    I killed these maidens everyone
    I’ve charged this town a heavy toll
    but my spree is over, I won’t run
    this weigh’s too heavy on my soul

    sentenced to hanging at his trial
    Lyle was shortly going to die
    looking sadly stern at Lyle
    the judge inquired of him why

    had he slain all this beauty
    made so many families cry
    he felt an answer was his duty
    so this was Lyle’s cold reply

    for many years I’d been denied
    until my soul was heavy laden
    god knows how often I had tried
    to win the love of a fair young maiden

    I was so consumed with bitter grief
    that, though I’ve caused much pain and strife
    this was my only true relief
    to take from them their tender life

    as mama’s words rang in my head
    I’d cut out their precious part
    there’s more than one way, mama said
    to steal a lovely lady’s heart

    ~ ~ ~
    rob kistner © 2008