eyes droop and flicker
aflame with spoiled sleep
skull upon the finger bones
in weighted indecision
where art thou fickle muse
will no fresh ink be shed this night
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2018
This poem was inspired by a suggestion from Andy Sewina, aka SweetTalking Guy. This is a very brief flash fiction written in three American Sentences, a poetic form conceived by Allen Ginsberg.
~
jack and Neal on the road
were rape’n their angst
in carnal combustion
allen was howl’n
pal’n with corso
but still white-hot for peter
hunter was fearful
loathing it all
as bohemia went tie-dye
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2009
day breaks
on a new week’s sun
putrid
as the stains
on my flesh-soaked mattress
damp
as my sour mat
of fevered greasy tangle
hot
as my whiskey-foul breath
another
un-commuted
sentence
9-5
’til merciful dusk
delivers me
jack-knifed
into my jack dan
don’t obsess in sorrow
drown
a bottom-dive
to comatose
no virtue
feigned nor implied
mad goes the struggle
from the hissing sting
of monday
through
the mindless
on off
120-grind
’til
friday
until
saved by the blues
loud ‘n lewd
48 on the hump
bass thumped
drum pumped
bare rumped
notorious
numbed
and nasty
2
debauched
24’s
then
back in the hold
again
countin’ it down
5
4
3
etc
etc
the cruel numbers game
goes round
round round
and ever round
’til
the tombstone’s
tender
solace
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2018
Touch of Love
~
a quarter century 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 © 2011
Silent Song
~
watching the cosmos
marveling
tonight I go mind-surfing
beyond my limitations
to a place of mystery
that touches the edge of infinite
the place where humility is born
where the first thread
was tweaked to unfurl
were is spoken
the language of awe
and silent wonder
is the song that is sung
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 1/10/15
Kiting
~
a whispered zephyr
tosses my hair
brushes soft my cheek
hope gently stirs
a promise of breeze
begins to freshen
it wafts
and builds
gathers strength
heartbeat quickens
anticipation
spirals anew
the building currents
draw taut the line
then
an urgent tug
the moment arrives
my kite fills
then billows
it stands and dances
sculpted tight
against the frame
caught full
by this mounting breeze
it lifts with grace
rises with purpose
with deft hand
and careful eye
I guide it
safely airborne
further
faster
it ascends
carried skyward
on friendly drafts
empowered
by winds of good fortune
this day my kite
has taken flight
bold aloft
in the clear bright sky
with a constant wind
my kite
fragile as a dream
soars strong
and steady
a sudden gust
my kite is tossed
but a nimble touch
keeps it skyward
should winds
like fortune
turn
and the sky grow still
my kite
like fate
will falter
weather
like life
makes no guarantee
but such is the thrill of kiting
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2008
_____________________
~
a ruby droplet
the yellow rose bears sharp thorns
we will still share wine
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2007
Unspoken
~
so many times
I looked tenderly upon you
filled with love
you were my sun
my light
I looked with admiration
unceasing gratitude
for who you were in my life
for how you wrapped our children
in the cocoon of your heart
freeing them to fly
when ready were their wings
for your gentle way
that drew our friends close
holding fast
harbored in your kindness
but years numbered
one upon the next
I remained all too mute
until fate carried you
beyond the sound
of my foolish voice
would that I had a bottle
to carry my loving words
across the ocean of time
over the horizon of death
to tell you the 10,000 things
I said too seldom in your life
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2007
~
once I have
all I can get
I’ll still want more
and more
and yet
the stuff I have
I must ignore
to have the time
to find some more
to stash
with what it is I got
so there’ll be nothing
I have not
and when I have
all that there is
I’ll sit back
and say
gee wiz
I’m not certain
this is all
there is
though what I have
is gathering dust
and some perhaps
is gathering rust
I’ll search for more
because I must
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2007
Nocturne
~
hawk moon hangs heavy
in the damp night sky
bulbous moist pearl
rolling
in a cold chromium fog
wet slivers of cloud
smear themselves
across its face
irregular
translucent sacks
of moonbeams
breathing
glassine billowing pillows
oozing
soaked with midnight
stars float and spark
glinting
dripping
shivering
frozen splintered crystal-tips
diamond chips
pinprick rips in blackened space
they wink and wane
and flutter
shattered bits of silvered light
snapping here then not
behind the ghostly white vapor
that slithers through the firmament
the world devoid of color
aglow in sterling grey
a negative of day
thick and chilled
filled with the sound
of stalking after-dark things
nocturne
the sorrowing hour
to lay bare your soul
in pale introspection
in grief of secrets
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2007
in moonlit forest
midnight’s snowfall shimmers
deep and still
through the boughs
of old growth
like a dance of star clusters
it blankets
our high-mountain meadow
in crystal down
this night
fell quiet and crisp
a great white owl
echoes
through frosted cedars
lover and beloved
we entwine
in passion’s heat
‘neath winter’s window
until
with dreams
and one another
we sleep
a gentle slumber
adrift in wonder
unmoored
of time and place
we breathe deep
this winter nocturne
wrapped in reverie’s
ebb and flow
my heart is carried
to a moment
in a winter
long ago
you
by firelight
in my arms
an embrace
your face aglow
a mid-winter midnight
‘neath frosted moonlight
crystaline stars
a’dance above
our hearts
in pure surrender
that magic night
we first made love
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2018
That Hollywood Sparkle
~
it’s not so much we resent the hungry
no more than do we despise the poor
rather we avoid and dismiss them
with the dull cough of apathy
we find them disturbing and dangerous
they disquiet our comfort
they disrupt our summer stroll downtown
we do not flow with the milk of kindness
our part is more the dark brandy of denial
afterall what is it we can really do
we do however praise our stars
for their sensitivity toward the downtrodden
it makes the less fortunate more glamorous
and we like the hollywood sparkle it imparts to tragedy
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 6/26/18
Wee hours,
with the sane asleep,
this writer’s steeped
in conflicted inspiration.
My thoughts are vague,
I’m filled with doubt,
words tossed about
the unyielding empty page.
I start, then stop,
I write, then not,
unclear, I’m caught
in merciless hesitation.
Fickle muse, please —
a promise of spark
to light this dark
that grips me like a cage.
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2007
a daze turning to quiet purpose
a look straight into the cacophony
of the morning squeeze
he was finding the place where he fit
then stepping out
beyond and forever
into that direction
that will lead
down the path of tomorrow
to that distant place
round that unseen bend
and into the lives of perfect strangers
that he will come to love
or avoid
as logic dictates
but either way
to need
that distant horizon
is full of discovery
and wonder
and heartbreak
and sorrow
and the vibrations of being alive
I pray
not being alone
I will stand here
and watch you go
and remember how much I didn’t know
when I was you
oh, but to be that perfectly naive
that beautifully innocent
just one more time
to anticipate with uplifting uncertainty
what is ahead
just over that rise
and to burn with desire to find out
just once more
to be that eager
and willing to believe
that anything
everything is ahead
and it all to be had
and to go
shuddering in the joy of living
eyes wide open
longing to see
aflame to know
so go you
go
I will watch
until you slip out of sight
into that life of yours
that I do not know
so go
go and catch fire
burn brightly
burn brightly!
~ ~ ~
rob kistner 4/13/18
_________________________
** This was inspired by my son, who is at the peak of his manhood, his dreams just beginning to come true, filled with unstoppable confidence, and love for his family.
~
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