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: wonder
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
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
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
__________________
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
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
Bit ‘O Whimsy
•
One misty moisty morning
The mist was most prevailing
And then it started storming
On that misty moisty morning
It came up without a warning
hailstones began to hailing
And I missed the morning mailing
On that misty moisty morn
Though I mostly miss the morning mail
That morn I felt mostly forlorn
I had to catch the mail that morn
But by 10 minutes I was trailing
So I began to flailing
Down the lane my feet were sailing
But the mailman was ailing
And hadn’t made his morning mail
So on that misty moisty morning
In a storm that had no warning
When I should have been emailing
My mail and me got mostly soaked
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
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
For No One
and prompt #69 at Carry On Tuesday,
also the September 1st prompt at Three Word Wednesday…
•
to which I tight step
pulses
in my heart
alone
it is my coursing vital
stirs my spirit
steels my resolve
drives me on
into the fray
emboldened
“to thine own selfâ€
resonates
the chambers
of my soul
sweet
as the song
of angels
if one is not
author
of the life
one lives
it is
plagiarized
and its essence
forged
it is my pen
scribes my epitaph
the spark
must be authentic
or the fire
arson
the flame
that burns within
is mine
do not expect
I will ignite
for you
or blaze
to your vision
you are not
my flint
do not attempt
to chart
my course
I search
my own
horizon
do not
contain me
I live
outside
do not
seek me
on the surface
I break deep
below
the negative
do not
summon me
to your queue
yours is not
my grid
or file
you are not
my piper
this
I know
I stand in line
for no one
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
The Box
and the August 25th prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
and prompt #18 at Writer’s Island.
…a short story of intrigue…
•
“What do you mean Taylor,†Gwen inquired, the strain obvious in her weary voice. “Who exactly is going to confront Dylan… and why?â€
Her voice trailed off to an exasperated whisper. The why was not so much a question, as an exhalation of confused frustration. She seemed to know the answer was much too complicated to address at this hour, and she was too spent, physically and emotionally, to want to hear it.
Gwen turned away from Taylor, head lowered. Her arms fell limp at her side, fingers splayed. She was trying her best to process what Taylor was saying, to understand him – to understand the recent events that had brought her to this place in time… trying to make sense of anything. Her head was spinning, and she could feel the fatigue deep in her bones.
She dropped back onto the sofa, half sitting, half lying down – an exhausted slouch. She felt paralyzed, thoughts racing through her mind – fragmented, disconnected thoughts. If only she could clear her head. She was in trouble.
Continue reading The Box