Month: March 2022

Though from different worlds we’re solid bound
a common cord binds us strong, fastened deep
to the shared part we keep safe and sacred
that survives no matter what else may fail
the part that is our most essential selves
this is where we are intimately joined
we’re poets at the bedrock of our souls
it is here our love of life is harbored
it’s in this holy place that we shelter
always alert to the clarion’s call

we are all damaged in our special ways
we like the path unclear the route unmarked
we are fond of stumbling in fumbling through
to find the way that is uniquely ours
engaged by the obtuse — the uneven
we vibrate to the asymmetric chord
find grace and form in brilliant imbalance
we’re seduced by the clue — drawn to the fog
we seek the wonder there that is withheld
because here we hear the clarion call

we long to always wander ‘round the bend
to seek what me may find over the hill
we always wonder what’s behind the door
what is it there that must be locked away
we can be found ears pressed against that door
our ears also prick to the distant sound
that calls to us just beyond clarity
to all these things our souls are strongly pulled
as down the trail in the mist ‘round the curve
there the clarion awaits — shut away

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

~ evidence of a muse ~

The aged aged man
follows the echos
of the three voices

a strange wild song
that leads him to
the four riddles
of darkness
suspended
in the blackness
above
the sea of dirge
in the deepening canyon
of solitude and secrets

he calls to you
to follow

to join him
in the silence
to listen

will you?

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

Spy’d through my mind’s looking glass
a fantasy realm where I must go
shall not another moment pass
it’s long been my dream — now alas
all plans are made to make it so

like in a boat beneath a sunny sky
excitement warms my voyager’s heart
soon through the clouds I’ll soar on high
with wings of wonder I will fly
the waiting’s over — I now depart

fantastic is this spell I’m under
magic of a splendorous kind
a world of cornucopic wonder
treasure troves of dreams to plunder
in this voyage of my mind

in my fancy’s elaboration
through stars of wonder I ascend
soar in sweet hallucination
in ships of my imagination
oh, would this voyage but never end

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

T these victimized girls
his ego’s validation

eve
his special prize

he danced her
incessantly

reaching to her again
she trembled
but went to toe

suddenly
laughing into the air
she stabbed his heart

crazed
eyes aflame
she danced
danced
and danced

wildly

unshackled —

free!

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

https://youtu.be/iaxddKjtAG0
https://youtu.be/aclyuqS1MmA

This day begins briskly sunny
an osprey echoes our sunrise lake
we chat by morning’s window
with tea and curiosity

thoughts spill
into each other

as your soft coral lips
sculpt words
I’ve drifted

my love’s ignited
as sun
fires your gentle green eyes

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

~ jus’ lil’ mo’ Maya — jus’ b’cause ~

The dream broke
like a prodigal sun
on a startled spring evening
causing him to squint
blinking away happiness
like sand
in the eyes of love

you were there
on the shores of sadness

you broke the news
you took his keys
you took your leave
then you took his shoes

you took him for a fool

it wasn’t you didn’t want him
you said
you simply saw yourself
in a different movie
with a different ending

no broken hearts
at least
not yours
in love’s roulette

and the stranded man
in the leather chair
had my face

had no expectations
made no demands
held you responsible
for nothing

and you left the table
cashed in your winnings
climbed the winding stairs
silk purse in hand

his heart was in your pocket
to place it at midnight
on your balcony sill
to watch it wither
in the moonlight

he had no need for it
nor most certainly
did you

as the night lark sang
a silver tear
had fallen hard
from his sullen cheek

which you collected
in a sterling box
and tossed into the sea

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

~ If ya’ gotta lil’ mo’ time, here’s a lil’ mo’ Tom. Yessa’ if ya’ ain’t lates, here’s ‘nother taste — a full snifta’ o’ Mista’ Waits. ~

 
Do you
see the salt-tears
stain d’brass horn’s bell

feel the hit-bottom bass
of the fine wooden upright

weep with the wound strings
of a hollow-body gibson

ache to d’blues-bent reed
of a lush broke-heart sax

throb with the rhythm
of the skin-taut drum’s roll

I am the blues band
and too the jazz band
also the 2nd line
of celebration and sorrow

I play at the light’s edge
that pools in the night
in a joint on the bleak streets
of the sad brokenhearted

I play to the anguish
of the loveless who cower
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten

I play to the grief
of the sinners who moan
alone in their heartbreak
in the ruins of love

I play to the ignorance
that fosters indifference
unleashing the pollution
consuming the planet

I play to the horror
that encircles our world
flogged raw by despair
in the shadow of plague

I play to the terror
of all asshole demagogues
harboring sad wet dreams
of being someone’s fool god

I am a blister-hot pistol
on the barroom slat-floor
in a puddle’a justice
that taught a jackass to cry

I am the angel of miz’ry
that falls you flat down
wail’n ‘round midnight
hard pray’n t’die

I am a broke piano
in a dead — drunk-bar
squaller’d in shambles
sheddin’ no’mo tears

I am the dark cadence
movin’ through the streets
in sad slow progression
carryin’ the dead

I am mardi gras mornin’
I come’a roarin’on up
in a bourbon st. stumble
play’n all the night

I am wild tchoupitoulas
from the 13th ward
blood shiffa-hoona
I won’t be barred

I am a walk through fire
a swim through mud
stole feathers from an eagle
a drink’a panther’s blood

I am a gallery of corpse tears
hung bold in deep memory
for those who survived
to feel the departed’s sorrrow

I am the rattle of glasses
on shelves back ‘o d’bar
when the band’s riffin’ hard
on a packed Friday night

I am the madman
sometimes d’sideman
in d’dark beautiful chaos
and joy’s tearful sky

I am the tambourine’s jangle
in a sweet delicate hand
in a hard poundin’ bar
on a stage reekin’ o’weed

I am the music and anguish
pour ‘em into m’soul
‘til I’m only the both
so to wring your pain dry

are ya’ blind
do ya’ see
are ya’ deaf
do ya’ hear

I am jazz
I am blues
I am a lone angel cryin’
in a dearth funeral dirge

I am — all that fuckin’ music
playin’ out loud
play’d for all us dyin’
in earth’s terminal purge

“All That Jazz” from: Guilbeaux Gallery

*
rob kistner © 2022
aka: lawrence tieke

Poetry at: dVerse

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

Hello wind
welcome

have you come
to help with laundry

you feel briskly spring today
yet warm and silky
spilling in between
my things

you slip so satiny
shy and silent
slyly sensuous
round my shoulders

your rays of buttery sun
warm and sweet
golden on my neck
satisfying as a summer breeze

oh willful wind
I must say
as you waft and tumble
you tantalize

floating and swooping
in sweet refresh
handling my things
with such care

as I hang each piece
you dance gently
up my arms
rustle my dress

playfully
you brush my cheek

you swirl ‘round me
at times firmly insistent
rocking me
then teasingly soft

your whispered rushes
fluttered breaths
feel like a lover’s tendings

affectionate strokes
that caress my skin

lilting tender
you’re a soothing breath
as your zephyr’d fingers
toss my hair

oh wind
so frisky

have you come
only to help with laundry

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse