Day: April 7, 2022

The moon sets
in pre-dawn’s soft glow
as comes the fire
of day’s first light
carried confidently
by the lantern bearer
to lead us out of night
to chase ashened dreams
and welcome morning

morning’s a feeling
a wonderful healing

the sunlight revealing
all darkness was stealing
from our sight

from our heart
in this night

as we rise
we fix our eyes
on the dawning
knowing
miracles are possible

our hearts spawn a melody
to carry us through
until twilight
bids the day adieu

but as sunlight’s chorus swells
morning spreads its magic

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

When the fire of love
flickers dims and dies
and a shadow falls
deep in darkened eyes
hollow words of love
become but empty lies

that open door
of a tender heart
has swung quietly closed
round the fragile part

what once so sweet and effortless
can never again feel right
and the fall begins so near unseen
as though but the passing of night

until one morning no dawn breaks
no tenderness nor warmth awakes
and a loneliness encircles slow
you seek the one that you’ve loved so

she’s here arms reach
she shares your bed
you roll and turn
then lift your head
you search her face
in the predawn glow
whose eyes these are
you no longer know

you feel no tears
you feel no fight
a knowing rises from this night
sadly it will never again be right

it’s in this painful clarity
you realize

you know

though she’s still here in your bed
her heart
left long ago

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

~ my little buddy Blackee ~
 

Oh it’s fine that logic’s got beyond me
I might turn off my mind completely
sanity’s so very overrated
I don’t think it means much — you see

so who’s to say that I can’t fly
and whose right is it to question why
I wear my trousers inside out
it helps keep the pockets dry

I see you smirking at my hat
it’s aluminum foil — imagine that
it helps with my cell phone reception
and fascinates my trusty cat

although I think my sweet cat Blackee
wonders if perhaps at times I’m whacky
he looks at me bemused and startled
on days I dye my long hair khaki

yes I do lose track of time
days and weeks — is that a crime
you know — it’s all just one’s perspective
you’ve got yours — I’ve got mine

and I’ve a language of my own
like no other that you’ve known
my cat Blackee understands me
it’s all we speak when we’re alone

Blackee sings backup in a band
he tells me they are really grand
they sing all night in another language
so I don’t really understand

some girl made a song about him
I personally think it’s kinda grim
makes Blackee sound like he’s bad
he says it’s just this girl’s whim

now if you see me on the street
ignore the cowbells on my feet
it helps keep gawkers out my way
I’m not nuts — I’m just offbeat

but my little Blackee loves me
he tells me so — every day
and he believes that I can fly
he thinks the day’s close I finally try

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: Day 7 NaMoWriMo