Burst
•
sky pulls with spring rain
sprouting seeds push seeking light
sun stirs petal’s blush
engorged buds burst to unfurl
nature reaches tipping point
• • •
rob kistner © 4/13/11
Burst
Category: nature
Skye Fyre
Skye Fyre
~
the grand sunset gun
hunter readies his grip
as the great golden orb
returns weary from his trip
quicksilver moon
embarks on her night’s course
hunter fixes sharp eyes
steady on the source
gaia reaches gently
into vast quiet space
diamonds of stars
gaia sparkles in place
hunter locks the horizon
solid in his sight
his important grand task
still remains on this night
to set the late sky ablaze
before he goes to sleep
in patterns most bold
in colors quite deep
he aims his sunset gun
and blasts overhead
a riot of corals
ambers oranges and red
with a grand brilliant flash
the heavens are afire
in rich vivid hues
burning hot with desire
this dusk color festival
has fully begun
so hunter retires
his job is well done
but he first locks away
his grand sunset gun
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 4/12/11
Shuffle
Shuffle
•
life deals the cards
face down
from a deck
stacked full with jokers
rare
the precious wild card
the game plays out
slowly
turning each card
hand at risk
wild card
strikes a jackpot
play continues
but the jester
hand is bust
player folds
not until
the hand is forfeit
or the final card
face up
is it known
what fate has dealt
• • •
rob kistner © 4/6/11
La Nature du Feu
…per this week’s prompt at Big Tent Poetry, this is a gentle rewrite of a poem of mine
originally published in the 2010 RWP Anthology…
The Nature of Fire
A Poem Using Three Lines from Norman Dubie’s “Of Politics & Art”
(the borrowed lines are italicized)
•
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
it is always there
la nature du feu
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
it is always there
la nature du feu
all around the good people gather
stare in disbelief
how is this possible here
not realizing that such power to combust
to blaze so brilliantly
can only be suppressed for so long
it is always there
la nature du feu
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 © 2011
Equinox
Equinox
•
winter’s journey ends
lengthening light bears witness
spring crests and breaks
here at the equinox
life bursts forth
poking through pliant soil
unfurling on barren branch
here at the equinox
nature stirs in song and call
celebrating new birth
sustaining the cycle
here at the equinox
my heart leaps
my spirit dances
to this rhythm of renewal
here at the equinox
• • •
rob kistner © 3/20/11
Soul Breeze
•
thoughts drift by gently
my mood is mellow this day
I linger at rest
dreaming of the spring breezes
that tickle my soul to life
• • •
rob kistner © 2011
use ‘mellow’, ‘breeze’, and ‘tickle’ in a poem…
Young Flower
Young Flower
•
velvet soft
passion’d purple
newly bloomed flower
full and succulent
tender plumped folds
glisten with dewy nectar
heady fragrance
pleasures the senses
luscious form
ripened blush
delights the eye
a gentle touch parts silken petals
reveals the inner bud
swollen with the urgency of life
intoxicating
such vital beauty
consumed
one savors slowly
exquisitely delicious
this young flower
full bloomed
• • •
rob kistner © 3/14/11
…written for Magpie Tales
Panther
it was born of my contempt for the barbarous act of caging wild animals in a zoo •
this final edit inspired by prompt #24 at Writer’s Island,
prompt #23 at We Write Poems,
and prompt #74 at Carry on Tuesday.
•
from rippled sinew black as midnight
bores a stare of molten gold
a furious but calm inferno
searing deep to burn your soul
unyielding is this panther’s pace
held captive in this foolish zoo
cold eyes rivet snarled contempt
unfathomed pools of quiet rage
on this panther paces paces
turns and paces back he paces
graceful stride of brute resolve
presses on to test his bounds
proud this captive soul just paces
frustration turns anger retraces
this brutal prison of false environ
does not fool this mighty beast
observe how he continues pacing
instinct certain this is not home
his piercing gaze fixed well beyond
his suffered fate of cruel confine
see the panther pacing pacing
his nature steeled his spirit strong
relentless sorrow wild longing
drive on and on his constant stride
this will not break his fierce resolve
he tracks freedom he stalks life
imprisoned he will forever pace
and he will pace
and he will die
• • •
(haiku)
•
caged beast close your eyes
have no fear of letting go
dream of wild freedom
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
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
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
Kisses Crimson-Gold
the stir of autumn
enwraps my heart
as summer slowly wanes
riding the early fallen leaves
on the current of october waters
whirling and bobbing on crystal ripples
round and past the river rocks
over rip rap in the stream bed
carried vividly away
into the setting sun
days shorten
shadows lengthen
a quiet melancholy
settles upon the valley
as nature prepares itself
for the slumber of renewal
but not before the crackling
joyous dance of harvest
and a crisp crimson-gold
kiss goodnight
~ ~ ~
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
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
Final Sentinel
as generations
moved forward
as civilization
painstakingly
progressed
set foothold
knowledge
unfolded
slowly
I observed
the millenniums
of human endeavor
as they awakened
to self-reliance
less dependent
on hive mentality
mastering machines
eliminating conflict
striving for truth
ever evolving
I saw
nature
the world
reshaped
tempered
resilient
proud
I stand tall
thrust skyward
closer to heaven
than any living thing
a perpetual presence
the constant sentinel
a witness to triumph
would
that all that
were true
I watched helplessly
as generations receded
as empires crumbled
greed ran rampant
wisdom ebbed
civilization
imploded
I observed
millenniums
of human folly
misguided logic
flawed reasoning
as they flailed
stumbling
to a cold
isolated
world
disconnected
from one another
from the environment
serving their machines
serving their avarice
perfecting violence
racing to ruination
becoming aliens
in a mad eden
disillusioned
depraved
diseased
until
they were
no more
I watched through tears
as the natural world
slowly declined
diminished
withered
scarred
died
putrid
toxic air
permeates
burnt terrain
to far horizons
and now I stand
thrusting skyward
in this decaying hell
praying for a heaven
the only living thing
the pitiful survivor
the final sentinel
time’s witness
to tragedy
watching
the end
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 2018)
_____________
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
