He spoke about marriage like i was never part of the plan

He spoke of a wedding I would dreadfully be attending

He spoke about a wife that will hold him at night as i lay alone with my regrets.

He spoke of a person standing next to him as if i haven't fought for the love he neglects

He spoke about happiness like I've never tried to paint a smile on the canvas

He spoke of laughs he would share with a soul that wasn't mine.

He spoke about a life...i was no longer a part of.
He spoke of everything I've feard   and suddenly i see them in reality
Our Dog Howling at Sunset

At sunset, the dog howls at sirens in town.
If he were snowbound in Talkeetna,
A hundred miles from nowhere,
What would he howl at instead?

I saw my husband trudging through the frost,
His blue jacket half-tinted orange and red,
“I don’t like the way you sound,” he said
As he left, deserting one who was already lost.

If I were a thousand miles from him now,
Listening to the wolves’ mournful cries,
And my beloved shunning me as he does now,
Would I pretend to believe my lover’s lies?

Or, instead, would it be enough to exist
Where the short summer dies on winter’s grist,
And true love’s a dream born on a dreamer’s mist,
And the one to stay with is the one you’ve just kissed?

If I lived in a land so cruel and hard,
Would I be bargaining with my soul?
If love’s short date were but a moon’s silver shard,
Would he be a passing thought, and my son the whole

Of any future we had scattered out on the snow,
Or caught in the rime-bound trees?
Would I see then what I already know—
That his future lies with himself and not me?

As our wolf howls a timeless wail to the air
I can listen and guess at its season.
I can comfort myself it will always be there,
Beyond human hopes, beyond reason.

Far wiser, the black-furred hound, than I,
To sing out his ancient song.
Waiting, watching, as we struggle and die,
Only to pass his wisdom along.

Waiting, hoping as he does for a touch,
He is made to think that he asks too much--
Waiting for a kind word or loving hand--
Wild and alone, in humanity’s bleak land.

A southern writer once lamented the lack
Of courage in humankind,
And suggested we borrow the strength we see
In the branches of an olive tree.

Yet there’s more courage in the dog-wolf’s cry,
Penned out on our city-cropped lawn,
As if he knows the grief of my son and I
When the man we both love is gone.

“Could we not as well” take a lesson from him,
Our wild and loyal friend?
To howl out our sorrow and loneliness,
Though the pain might never end?

Now, in the twilight I hear my lover return,
With no greeting to me, and I burn
For the summer’s newborn passion I recall.
The twilight wolf’s mourning tells it all:

That we never will have what we had before
That love can die just as well as it’s born,
That a child is the only one who restores
What is lost to the lonesome, the wolves, the forlorn.

July 6, 2001
A long-ago falling out and later mended.
While poetry provides much beyond comfort
and secret sharing thoughts. Though in terms
of love, it seems like promise that can’t keep,
nor provide. Despite its authority on the subject
and experience. Still highly valued. And in a full
world of people, love can still be in one single
person missing you. Life can change in a instant,
perhaps for some, they cannot oblige because
of the internal. Which is why so many disbelief in
the love poetry conveys with such pride. Remain
for their natural life, avoiding and in despair, with
a slight touch of sour bitterness. While most live
and grow tired of the soulmate coming to save
them, than settle into a dullness normality and
learn how to be a partner.  
Amanda 2d
Life turns into a lyrical
Orchestra of song, as blissful
Violins play across the heartstring
Ever promising it can be lasting

Adore you
Need you
Desire you

Minds made, choice done
Aligned hearts become one
Ritual of old taken
Romantic words spoken
I give to you
All of me, I do
Growing into age
Every step a travelled page
Andrew Frazer Jul 23
He loved her for the girl that once she was,
When he himself was but a boy
Languid in his longing for the song in her eyes
And the sense of her touch in the dreamless dark

Through other brief loves the magic held
Though year, on gathering year, the memories declined
Until he held again a young girl’s weight
In his yet firm embrace

Through empty gaze and bitter words
She poured upon his unfamiliar brow
He loved her yet, for all that she had been
Cradling her shadow in his arms

Until, awakening to find her gone
He dressed her for the final time
Kissed her pale wide forehead,
And let the tears, undammed, fall now, salting their woven hands
Your Love or the bud?

Marriage is the way?
All that gives you is someone to pay and raise babies.
Love is dead, killed by deceit.
Keep your lust;
It is only a piece of the puzzle I seek.

Why cry over someone who is not worth it?
Bye, good riddance, to tell the truth, I’m glad to be rid of it.
So many beautiful women,
So many ways to be rejected.
So happy to see all these sexy ladies,
Soon one of them will want to sleep in my bed.

So keep your lust,
Mine is linked to love.
My love is phenomenal…

Your love?...

Or the bud?

(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
An angel appeared before me tonight.

An angel appeared before me tonight,
She sat on my bed and handed me back my life.
Her crystal blue eyes, lit up my life,
Her comforting words filled my aching heart with pride.

Without her I would surely have died,
But with her love I am truly alive.
Free to be myself, with no need for wealth,
With a hope in my heart that my body retains it’s good health.

For I couldn’t die anymore,
For I couldn’t leave her to mourn.
I need to be the one to hold her hand,
I need to show her I understand.
I need to tell her that I will always be her man,
I need to tell you I love you God damn!

So wash away those salty tears
And I shall open my little ears,
So I can truly hear.
If your soul is aching and you want me near,
Then have no fear my dear,
For I will always be here, for you.

If you’re feeling blue, or tickled pink,
Or green with envy, or anything,
Then stop to think, just once about me,
Because my love for you, goes on endlessly.

Until the end of time and with each line of this rhyme,
I hope I let my love light shine.
To guide you away from the things that could sink us,
The jealousy, the fear, the lack of trust…

Us.  You and me.  Matrimony.
2.4 children and an ounce of weed.
Love life.  My wife.
7 months in the blink of an eye.

Your love is the best
And if you ask about sex…
Mmm.  My woman you are the best.

My love for you is undying
And we shall make it through the bad times.
For no love this pure and righteous,
Should ever be allowed to die.

Fight the fight of your life, for our love life.
For we are truly worth it.
My (…).  My Angel.
For me you’re simply perfect.

(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Aa Harvey Aug 13
Loving you is easy

I’ll be there for you, whether skies are grey or blue.
I’ll be there for you, because you are there for me too.
If you are hurting and can’t carry on;
Just give me a call and I’ll pick up the phone.
Because you have my love, it goes on and on;
It’s never ending, because you are the one.

This is my life, but without you in it,
My life would be empty and I would be lost.
As I lay here with you asleep in my arms,
I can’t help but think I love you and I hope I am enough.

You shattered my soul in two,
The day I fell in love with you.
One half was mine, the other yours;
I knew right then we’d make it through.

I see you smiling in the sunshine
And I’m thinking of our future together.
I see us marrying each other sometime soon
And I hope we will last forever.

(C)2015 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
PoserPersona Aug 11
During youth I was quite the collector
of ocean cretin's annealed sandcastles
Though the hosts inside could not be cheaper,
their fleshy coats were worth all the hassles

Content I was amassing worn seashells;
daily did this fine collection accrue
Though furnished, barren felt those wooden shelves,
as even pearls are lesser than a jewel

Still, the sand was warm; the waves were soothful
and regardless of what hollowness struck,
the beach granted a chance to feel fruitful
so long as one had either skill or luck

Alone was I, but daresay not lonely,
but I was not merry until married.
rob kistner Aug 10
(a personal contemplation on dementia)

my memories gather and squabble
like the crows at stirling castle
they pick the bones
of my recall

bones against the cruel clay
of an arid
barren mind

littered with the harsh forgotten
like the bones of the dinosaur
I'm becoming

with what letters are made of
my words crack and crumble

my thoughts
parch and wither

a sad silhouette
cut lonely
against an unforgiving skyline

fighting to remember
what the images meant

meant to me

tender visions of my past
of my life
of my home
next door to yesterday

harder and harder to remember
the degrees of separation
growing ever greater

time to time
I catch a glimpse of a lover
as she moves softly

comely as miss america
sensual as a shadowed nude

they all smolder in the fog
of my reflected past
in bright flashes

splashes of vivid color
on torn and dirty
scraps of paper
blown in the mounting winds
of my confusion

dread rising
that I will soon not remember
what it all meant to me

what they meant to me
what you meant to me
my love

a stirring fear I will forget
how a marriage
rare as ours
can last

how it did endure
and grow

finding richness
in moments of want
with the love we knew

this is not a poem
it is much more

this is a searching serenade
powerful as a double bass
sweet as a silver flute

this is a fractured tome
a cry of frustration
a tear of loss
a whispered prayer

an epitaph
to my fading map of then
of you

cherished memories

and gentle

that now falter
and dim

slowly slipping
into the cacophony
of the crows at stirling castle


rob kistner © 2018
I have been warned by my doctors in the past couple years, that I must be vigilant regarding dimentia. I have a number of things that make me a strong candidate. It frightens me when I struggle with memory, which I do more than I would like - and lately it feels more frequently. I had written about the subject in the past from an objective perspective, but I held it in a much more subjective light for this write.
I put myself in a meditative state before writing this, contemplating on what losing my memories might look and feel like. I then sat down and wrote this in a conceptual stream-of-consciousness, writing freely, not judging or overly evaluating what I was writing as I went - just writing, filled with the memories of the images that came to mind while I contemplated dimensia, and the emotions that lingered in that moment. I had a very strong vision of crows, what the significance is, I am not sure.
I did very minimal editing, then called it complete.
Here it is.
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