Orchid

•June 19, 2008 • 22 Comments

 

 

Orchid

young orchid fresh-bloomed
engorged with succulence
bursting with life’s urgency
vibrantly seductive

dewy lips of supple petal
lay open in offered sweet delight
velvet pistil of gentle blush
enwrapped in throat of fiery hue

this vision of tender ecstasy
entices with a lilting sway
a fragrance to intoxicate
wafting from the luscious folds

breathing in the rich bouquet
all senses stirred and tantalized
my eyes embrace this visage rare
pleasured in the heady moment

captive by such vital beauty
consumed, one savors slowly
exquisitely delicious
this tender bud, full bloomed

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

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photo above of: Phrag Eric Young orchid — composite by: rob kistner © 2008
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• • •

 

Bohemian Nightfall

•June 6, 2008 • 17 Comments

 

 

Bohemian Nightfall

when night fell on bohemia
the streets were set ablaze
in black light
in strobe light

it was tie-dyed psychedelia
when night fell on bohemia

jack and neal were on the road
ridin’ with the fire-whores
of angst and indignation
like combustin’ carnal fireballs
when night fell on bohemia

allen was howlin’
pal’n with corso
and long’n for peter

hunter, groin deep
in the brain-drug flesh festival
…hunter was fearful
and loathing it all
when night fell on bohemia

bill, stark naked
was lunchin’ with the devil
jelly-rollin’ in a demon’s fire
when night fell on bohemia

gary headed for cold mountain
to watch it all from sourdough
electric bob went subterranean

when night fell on bohemia
ken and tim
gathered up the faithful
on the magic bus
and stole off with the future

like pranksters

ever further

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

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collage above entitled: “Bohemian Nightfall” — by: rob kistner © 2008
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• • •

 

Not Since Then

•May 23, 2008 • 18 Comments

 

recorded author’s reading available below

 

Not Since Then

this turn down our country lane
I could make it in my sleep

so familiar

I anticipate every bend
rise
and dip

they are welcome as a friend

like the sound of my tires
as they trundle ‘cross
the narrow wooden bridge
that fords the feisty brook

and coming round, I see
the corridor of faithful old-growth Doug’s
stepping back for me
inviting my return

guarding my safe passage
they sway — as if to celebrate
that I am back again

now — it’s left up our gravel drive
the pebble and crushed rock
crunch and clatter in stony rustle
as I traverse our hill

swing onto our concrete carport
pause – and key the engine off

all is silent – save the tick and popping
as the engine cools

this is my favorite moment
just before I open the door
to step up and approach the house
approach you

this moment of anticipation

knowing you are waiting, bathed and fragrant,
warm and soft – dressed in something that will whisper
welcome home my love —
I’ve missed you

then I take you in my arms, fall into your loving eyes
pull your willing body close
to wrap ‘round you, and drink you in – intoxicated

these moments melt into sweet love making
that continues until exhaustion

we both love when I return, from a business trip

but tonight
I do not key the engine off
I do not reach for the handle
do not open the door

I simply sit

you are no longer waiting – not in quite sometime
not since you lost your battle brave
not since I held you, that final time
your body still warm and soft

not since then

now my business trips are longer
my returns
fewer – and farther between.

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

 

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To hear “Not Since Then” read by the author, CLICK HERE
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note: Doug’s are Douglas Firs

 

Awe

•May 16, 2008 • 5 Comments

 

Awe

they rise
gargantuan

icons
of the clever human

they vibrate
with the rush
and chaos
of synapse
and sinew

they hum
with
networked urgency

data
outdistancing
comprehension

‘we can’
beyond the reach
of ‘should we’

bedecked
in stainless
stone
and such

a halogen blaze
of neon fire

they surge
with the impulse
of power
and greed

temples
of
avarice

embellished
here and there
by art
and
true creative touch

though
sadly
short fallen

they are erected
englassened
and festooned

in varying shape
and differing size
they flank
in concrete corridors

that criss
and cross

blink
beep
and ring

that buzz
belch
hiss

and stink

they regiment
the like-minded
that submit

huddled within

college’d clones
connected
protected
directed
and inspected
in their daily dealings

haughty monoliths
that intimidate
and amaze
with cold
calculated
majesty

but
they are
ego’s folly

for they do not
cannot
touch the soul

nor offer solace
to the human core
that seeks
the folded petal’s mystery

that marvels
at the smallness
of a changing frond

at the might
of gnarled bark

the magic
of budding branch

they do not
touch the spirit
soothed
by wind and water

thrilled
by song of birds
or swoop of hawks

enlivened
by the yelp
or bark
or bleat of beasts

they cannot
reach the soul
that needs
to know and see
a salmon’s trek

the dolphin’s arc

an open sky

the roll of unobstructed clouds
or fall of stars

they have nothing
for the soul
that needs to hear
the crack of thunder
resound for miles
across the plain
then off the mountain’s face

they fail
the human core
that needs
the fresh embrace of rain

the crisp and quiet
drift of snow

the hues and sway
of living fields

They leave the spirit cold
that needs
to watch the orchard’s blossoms
bloom to fruit

see forests
thick beyond horizons

or feel
the lift of cresting surf

no…

there are no human constructs
that satisfy
this need to know
evolving natural wonders

that inspire

resonate
the heart

that liberate
the soul
to leave one
truly filled

with awe

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

 

Motherless

•May 13, 2008 • 6 Comments

 

A darker reality of Mother’s Day.

 

Motherless

bastard’s lament

undesired

discarded

thrown away

though whole
sound
and useful

no matter

labeled mistake
misbegotten
unfortunate

left behind

alone
by the side
of life’s road

to endure
the harsh weather
of abandonment

tried
convicted
sentenced for life

to suffer confusion
shame

the sorrow
of the unwanted

condemned

guilty only
of the crime
of inconvenience

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

 

This Jounery

•May 10, 2008 • 6 Comments

 

This Journey

this journey
has been fraught
with wonder
joy
sadness
awe
and tears

it’s carried me
‘cross boundaries
borders
mass of lands
‘cross time
and space

it’s shown me
mysteries
marvels

good & evil

the best
the least
the unfortunate

it’s brought me pleasures
fame
and fortune

to claim them back
with no remorse

I’ve known satisfaction
adulation
a woman’s love
a child’s passing

it’s been true
and faithful

genuine

to turn away
and
break
my heart

it’s been fact
fiction
and fantasy

I’ve been
ignored

I’ve been
betrayed

honored
as a man
of standing

then
left behind
to cry
alone

I’ve traveled
light
I’ve traveled
fast

I’ve stumbled
burdened
weighed with grief

I’ve lead
and followed
lost my way
regained direction
then disappeared

I’ve walked hand in hand
with fear
and death

stared down
depression

to be consumed

then arose
to once again
go forth
without a clue
my destination

with no regard
the fated outcome
nor consideration
of my plight

long ago
I lost my worry
having learned
it’s of no use

I’ve realized
despite
our difference

at the core
we’re all
the same

this realm
we entered
all alone
and here we’ll leave
alone again

but
all of this
is of no matter

foolish so
to dwell upon

of no concern
of no regard
most certainly
not worth the measure

because
in reflection
one sees too late

it was
this journey
that was the treasure

• • •

rob kistner © 2008

 

Faithful (a haiku)

•May 9, 2008 • 8 Comments

 

 

Faithful

time is a tyrant
it will chill the spring blue jay
yet still I am true

• • •

rob kistner © 2008