There will come a time
on a distant knoll
in the gentle light
of a sunset drizzled mist
we will again
stand together
friends
and we’ll tell each other
of the wonders
we’ve beheld
the truths
we’ve discovered
and we’ll know love again
forevermore
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Author’s Note:
My inspiration for writing “All My Lovin’” was drawn from exploring the record albums of my youth. Also, strangely enough, from a wonderful novel by Peter Heller entitled “The Dog Stars”. It was reinforced by my awoken curiosity, which found me sampling the top 100 hits of 1963, which was the soundtrack for the summer of my 16th year. That landed me solidly on the Beatles. It was the summer of my red ‘62 Chevy, which I traded for my true gem — a ’57 Chevy Bel Air “rag top”. It was my ‘63 Triumph 650 Bonneville motorcycle, my first rock and roll band, and my first “girl” — oh that rush of young love.
Looking back at my early teen years, those years when I was waiting for my life to begin, I flashed on my memories of young love. The intensity of that tender, pure, unrealistic infatuation, could perhaps have happened only then, in those times – in that summer of 1963. Before assasinations, collapsing economies, open social unrest, Viet Nam, before AIDS, COVID-19, rampant drugs, criminal presidents – the year of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, the Beach Boys took the world surfing, Annette Funicello playing beach blanket bingo, Ruby promised our day was coming… Chevy ragtops, Triumph Bonnevilles, OpArt, and President Kennedy challenging us to go to the moon. This was a time, maybe the last time, when teens were still blissfully innocent.
I don’t know why that feels true. Perhaps it’s because we were so naive and so unsure as teens, in that post WWll, white-picket-fence, father-knows-best, american-dream, faux-utopia. We were tentative and waiting, wondering. It’s as if love imagined to be that innocent, needed that much room, that much “open” mental space, that much time, that much emotional “safety”, that much unbridled belief, for it to take root, and to bloom – even if but for a brief moment in time.
The not knowing anything really for certain, but hoping, with aching faith in the possibility of pure true love, was both thrilling and unsettling. It was a love full of passion and devotion, but scary. We were not completely certain how to navigate such an emotion, not really, so we left it alone, tried to let it unfold lightly, terrified we would lose it. And if it did manifest, it felt so big and beautiful, and unbelievable! It was most often short-lived, owing to our immaturity, and the fragile combustibility of the feeling – but what intoxicating joy, such heady exhilaration! Those were the times when the apparitional gossamer wings of all consuming young love did fly to the moon, and carried us helplessly, but willingly, along. Here is my poem, “All My Lovin’”…
Strong slender legs
carry firm eager bodies
perfumed and cologne’d
around and across the dance floor
pulses racing
electrified — entwined — excited
young groping lust
craving
yet hesitant
swept up in innocent bliss
shadowed near the band shell
beyond the glow of incandescence
aching for that kiss
swollen with erotic effervescence
throbbing with the big beat
of scorching rock & roll
or drifting on a cloud
of ethereal romance
fantasizing there might be
a chance
hormones afire
in a maddening dance
smoldering for some
longing for more
confusing for most
a pubescent play
beneath a high starry sky
sparking with carnal fantasies
humid as our urgent embraces
hot as our stolen kisses
as forever as our promised love
in that distant
teenage midnight sizzle
stealing kisses
in the drizzle
praying our fragile feelings
our imagined love
would not falter
nor fizzle
such glorious terror…
…sweet ghosts of my youth
haunt from long ago
— The album in 1963 (American release) —
— Me in 1963 —
— My Summer of 1963 —
— My car in 1963 —
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
~ hit parade of 1963 — my first summer of love ~
“The “WhatThreeWords” for my zip code and street address were: moment / reveal / charge. Inspired by my 1984 Sept-Oct solo cross-country motorcycle roundtrip from Ohio to the Rockies and back, I incorporated my three words into this poem.”
The vast prairies
of my middle america
still in my mirrors
leaning comfortably into turns
breeze streaming through my hair
I begin to wind my way
into the mountains
into the golden evening
alive with two-wheeled freedom
master of the open road
not counting days
not keeping track
charging onward
feet up and flying
as I dash between shadow and light
the sun reveals itself
from time to time
from between the peaks
warming me
as it begins to settle
behind the western slope
of the mighty Rockies
I’ve shed structure
the heavy mantle of life
to venture into the random
into the unknown
to fully embrace life
the magnificent perfection
of simply living
in and for the moment
enjoying the thrill of the throttle
rapture in the lightness of freedom
spirit flying
so high and far above the ground
my spirit’s never comin’ down
never!
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
There are days I still can feel
the breeze of youth gently stir my soul
days remembered of grace and lightness
when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams
those days
of new found friends
of us
when all we touched was fresh and new
and the world was full of wonder
when we were certain we’d all live forever
our strength made each day a great adventure
those carefree days
the days we witnessed one for the other
as we made vows to our chosen life mates
we raised our children
we grew our careers
or our skills and artistry
our avocations
our families close
through these growth years
years of challenge
and sadly — those times of tears
but too — there were days of joy
steadfast dedication
but not these days
I’ve grown unyielding
rigidly braced
against the winds of time and fate
my soul is rooted too deep
in life’s demands
in it’s obstacles
I search its blessings
curse its burdens
these brittle days
I am bent by the yoke of worry
staggered by the blows of disease
heavy with the weight of loss
I am haunted by the ghost of memory
haunted by regret
the lonely days
when I reflect on these
set upon by another challenge
or another loss
brought even to my knees
these empty days
how can this void be filled
when ones so vital have departed
gone on one by one
we’re left brokenhearted
but not filled with strife
I still feel their life
this world was denied much wit and wisdom
kindness and love lost
when each, you passed
how can this void be filled
when ones so rich in these
are gone
gone so far beyond
ones who understood the need for giving
in a careless world
darkened by greed
that’s lost the soul of living
under attack by brutal lies
of deadly pandemic
when innocence dies
you
of tender hearts
truly unselfish
whose warm embrace included all
devastated by our fall
how can this void be filled
when such brilliant lights
have been snuffed out
I will not forget
I will remember you all
as long as I am able
I will remember all those days
that is how I will fill this void
keep focus on tomorrow
with the seeds of friendship
you each planted deep inside my heart
now filled with sorrow
may they grow to make me gentler
and me — the world a better place
good-bye my friends
ever will I tend these seeds
and think of you
I will not forget
I will never forget
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Saw her checking out the lamp
this 21st century vamp
wondered was I ready
palms were getting damp
pulse growing thready
nerves hanging by a string
yes — you do this thing
just say……… Hi!
noooo… she’s left the shop!
felt that string go — POP!
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
when you became the interior designer at our store
you brought style and grace — and so much more
you were so very gorgeous on our wedding day
you took my arm — my poor heart melted away
to chase a mutual dream we moved far out west
those Oregon years, were for me, the very best
our art show years filled us with such pride
we loved displaying creativity side bu side
your artistic talents take my breath away
your creative mind is still on fire today
all these phases of us are still ongoing
my love for you ever keeps growing
these — and our new memories, stir my heart to thrill
long as my memory holds, my love — they always will
Happy Birthday!
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Last Light” by: rob kistner © 9/25/24
I remember you love, by the ivy’d garden wall
on those crisp copper’d days, in the waxing fall
laying languidly embraced, on a golden leafy sprawl
in the dappled shade, of our green willow tall
I remember you sitting by the greying oaken mill
‘neath autumn’s changing trees, on that grassy hill
where we’d make sweet love, in the pearl morning chill
with love’s tears of joy, I remember the thrill
we’d embrace laughing, fall’n’roll down the hill
your blue eyes flashing, shouting, “let’s take the spill!”
bold as brilliant wildflowers, I remember you still
yes, I’m leaving you now love, but hear my heart trill
I always will, always will — remember… I always will
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Warm September relaxes, preparing to step through Autumn’s portal. This is the time of Equinox upon this realm, as it continues to cool, slowly nudged, towards eventual winter’s peace. The season of sky-waters is at hand, to quench nature’s thirst, as she begins her time of rejuvination, to slowly regather strength.
Soon an all-consuming quiet, an absolute stillness, will settle. From this deep silence, comes an imperceptible murmur, a breathless whisper. It is a hushed prayer of gratitude for the breathtaking beauty of this Pacific Northwest. Also, a humble petition, that the crossing of the next Equinox will bring the blessings of renewed life to this soon quiet land, at rest in time’s hand.
*
rob kistner © 8/23/23
Poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Strange Attractors” by: rob kistner © 9/20/24
This is the plot the studio intends
an evil villain who’s a killer clown
striking fear and mayhem all over town
I wonder how this horror movie ends
no way that clown and beauty queen are friends
not as hot as she looks in that evening gown
maybe he’ll push her in that lake n’let her drown
perhaps this is the plot the studio intends
bet he’s gonna kill her in front of her friends
perhaps he will beat her with her pageant crown
or stab her with her scepter when she turns ‘round
I so wanna know how this horror movie ends
ohhellno — RomCom’s not the plot the studio intends
please no — all this lovey-doven’s bringing me down
this can’t be how this movie ends — oh horrors!
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Maneater” by: rob kistner © 9/16/24
I am a vampire
I am the danger that you desire
I burn in your blood like unholy fire
You say you don’t want me I say you’re a liar
I’ll take you beyond death and then take you higher
I am a vampire
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “The Slayer Cometh” by: rob kistner © 9/16/24
Slowing my heartbeat
steadying my breath
I turn the key
the lock clicks
the door unseats
fate’s dealt this hand
I’m both prisoner
and executioner
in this deadly game
silver blade poised
swinging the lair’s door open
I enter
whispering
tonight you die…
vampire
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Paris Beauty” by: rob kistner © 9/12/24
Quietly she sits
aglow in Paris moonlight
spilling through
the tattered sky
time to time
to flood sterling
in those moments
this quaint sidewalk cafe
lovely lady
you look so at peace
yet so alive
vibrant
and so very beautiful
the rising moon
paints your face
a fetching pale rose
as the full Luna
works its seductive magic
a singular teary beauty
you’re radiant
under the cherry moon
cocktail in hand
I want so to approach you
tell you how enticing you look
how you stir my desire
but I hesitate
I fear you’d consider
my fervent advance
an indecent proposal
I don’t want the color of night
to turn a lecherous purple
when what I feel
is passion’s purest red
yes — I am excited by you
more and more
on fire
you’ve such a classic look
sensual
yet — vintage sophisticated
one of Ziegfeld’s elegant showgirls
but I’m a poor soul
the postman
a lowly schlep
out here fighting daily
to make a living
on this battlefield earth
most certainly
not in your class
my goddess
but I’m swept away
mesmerized by your beauty
the graceful lines of your face
your lithe feline form
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “To Her Lips”
by: rob kistner © 9/12/24
your slender fingers
caressing the stem
of your martini glass
like a captivating
catwoman
you are utterly intoxicating
if you ever turn my way
look into my eyes
and smile
well then…
I know who killed me
you
Aphrodite of the corner cafe
Venus of the street-side apéritif
it would be you
…because I’ll likely die
my heart will stop
my hair
turning fifty shades of grey
as my dust blows away
but really
I would not mind
a magical little death
the transcendence of
“la petite mort”
with you m’lady
would be wonderful
quite precious
a precious Paris dream
but alas
too long I’ve lingered
too long I’ve dreamed
this moment has captured me
I am hopelessly lost
to loving you
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Ecstasy”
by: rob kistner © 9/12/24
*
rob kistner © 2022
edited revision © 2024
2022 Poetry at: dVerse
2024 Poetry at: dVerse
These are the movie titles featured in this poem, in the oder they appear: The Lonely Lady, Under the Cherry Moon, Cocktail, Indecent Proposal, Color of Night, Showgirls, The Postman, Battlefield Earth, Swept Away, Catwoman, I Know Who Killed Me, Fifty Shades of Grey
Sing to me my sweet sweet lover
songs as soft as silk and satin
sensual as a bare embrace
warm summer sun upon our face
promise me the world is ours
that this perfect moment’s endless
lift me up on rapture’s cloud
my racing heart is pounding loud
set sail our souls on pleasure’s sea
fill our hearts with passion’s fire
smother me in scorched sweet kisses
oh what a fiery bliss this is
come to me and take me timeless
sweep me off ‘cross ecstasy’s ocean
enfold me in your deepest dreams
to simmer under summer moonbeams
we seek night’s soothing shade
aflame in love’s sensual serenade
under a moonlit sky of stars above
we’ll sail forever on the sea of love
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Sweet Silver Steel” by: rob kistner © 9/9/24
He makes his way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed in a heap
un-moving on the floor
save a twitch of the sodden head
this wreckage is his mother
she remains slack
death-like
nocturne angels of sweet release
had laid down lush upon her
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
skewered silver
deep in the soured vein
mama — why do you want to die
only silence
mama
don’t you care
don’t you know I need you
to himself
as tears begin to well
I am haunted…
by how much
our mothers do not know
he angles to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash his face
a face lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare
eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
stare into the mirror
broken as his heart…
…then they cry
mama why?
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “MaMa Why?”
by: rob kistner © 9/9/24
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
~ Can you ever go home again? This here’s a lil’truth, lil’fiction. ~
Last night I dreamed
I was wandering next to whitewater
in a stand of mountain birch
the white tree with paper-like bark
my father’s favorite tree
reminds him of Canada
his beloved country of birth
I vividly remember my dad
and his love of the birch
and his longing for Canada
a fondness he instilled in me
sharing his beautiful north country
via semiannual fishing adventures
to the small island log cabin
he still co-owned with a Canuk buddy
many memories still live and breath
in my heart
visions of younger days
one now calling me forward
down into the birch valley
and across the planes
of a childhood long ago
this morning’s sun
came crisp and bright
enfolding my waking
in warmth
and vivid presence
as the world awoke
fresh and fascinating
I embarked early
after eggs
juice
toast and jelly
the sweet and salty taste
lingering
of a homecoming
too long overdue
my soul is full
my mind is clear
my heart — overflowing
but my sprit is tentative
when dusk settles this evening
and early shadows fall soft
I will round Miller’s Corner
as it comes into view
worn
withered
but warm with recall
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Echoes of Laughter”
by: rob kistner © 9/4/24
my wooden framed
childhood home
abandoned now to ghosts
specters of a youth
spent surrounded by love
by laughter
by learning
and by loss
one of the ghosts
in that old house
is my mother
she passed within its walls
on a summer day
not unlike today
as I sat sobbing
in my room
down the hall
my father kept me from her room
he feared the sickness that took her
might take me
so I never really
got to say goodbye to her
nor goodbye to the laughter
that died that day
nor goodbye to the smile
on my father’s face
for it was never seen again
it disappeared
as did my father
into deep debilitating depression
shortly after mother passed
I was moved away
to live with my aunt
in Oregon
today I will return
to say a long delayed goodbye
to my mother
and to lay my father to rest
next to her
in the cemetery
behind the old church
where once they wed
quietly
I climbed the 2 steps
and entered the old church
empty at the moment
I sat down in a back pew
bowed my head
as if in prayer
and in a gentle hush
whispered
“I’ve come back — I’m here”
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Sacred Serenity”
by: rob kistner © 9/4/24
*
rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse