Author: Rob Kistner

Eyes dark and deep as nile nocturne
scorching as nubian sundance
this blackthorn rose
is the sultry jungle goddess
the secreted passion

fired in molten scarlet
forged of earthen bronze

she’s the blazing lust
of writhing music

she is smoke’n flame
black magic woman

*
rob kistner © 2023

More star poetry at: dVerse

Talk about music — this is music genius!

We’ve watched helplessly
as generations receded
as empires crumbled
greed ran rampant
as civilizations
stumbled on
so disconnected
from one another
so sadly out of touch
with the environment
as the natural world
slowly declined
diminished
withered
scarred
as the
putrid
toxic air
permeated
burnt terrain
to far horizons
until now I stand
thrusting skyward
in this decaying hell
one last dying thing
one pitiful survivor
one final sentinel
time’s witness
watching
the end
with
jan
&
bo
¥

jan & bo

*
rob kistner © 2023

More Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Horror Art — by: Rob Gonsalves

 
This is my nightmare
would that it never come true
learn not to clearcut
learn how to live with nature
do not destroy our forests

Murder

*
rob kistner © 2023

More Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

More Poetry at: earthweal

 
“when the last tree has fallen
and the rivers are poison
you cannot eat money”
— CREE INDIAN WARNING

photo by: Chris Radburn

There is a needing and a caring
a taking and a giving
a sainted depth of sharing
a bless’ed way of living

pieces of one’s soul
peeled away
for the sake of the cherished

writ in blood an awful tome
of all those that perished

a duality of dark and light
of positive and negative
of eternal wrong and right

it haunts by reaching out
with wing’ed clutch
of profaned hands

impaled evil
which in shadow stands

to inflict raw wounds
pure savage
beastly brutes of ravage

that also bless with sacred touch
to sooth the burning bruise
and heal the unseen damage
foretold in ancient truths
rooted in the need to nurture

open the gate of true compassion
bar not the weak in need
take not advantage of their wanting
they are not prey for your hunting
rebuke contemptuous greed

in the looking one-eyed blind
to see that which is not seen
know sure the frailties
in the feigh unfocused seer

madness engulfs the heart
of the flat-light sighted
obscuring truth
amplifying fear

yet radiance of clarity
envelopes the sainted
by holy light revealing
illuminating the wondrous
showing pure the way
of fundamental healing

voids of spirit
marked and remembered
are besought in the leaving time
at the crossing over
to the dream
of hard justice
for brutal crime

seeking rebirth
on the morrow

washed clean
in the water’s sorrow

I am here
but for only you
until all that remains
are the tormentor’s brittled bones

those who meant you menace
who meant you harm
those who terrorized this land
now sanctified by lethal penance
inflicted by your righteous hand
so
on this glorious night
disarm

devour my word complete
in validation of my path
in supplication to the way of light
consummation of my holy fate

walk with me contrite in prayer
fragile forgiven heathens
head bowed seeking bless’ed mercy
through eternity’s innocence gate

*
rob kistner © 2023

More Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

More Poetry at: earthweal

photo by: Eugene Soloviev

Joy rises from the earth today
as the thermals
beneath my wings
fill them to billowing

lifting me aloft
in free floating flight
my spirit’s pure delight

left to my heart’s abandon
my destination random

hear the earth whisper
the breezes sigh
here’s how it feels to fly

the soft sounds waft
lilting skyward

lifting
drifting
as far
and long
as the breeze permits

my searching soul submits

feeling the winds
take me

soaring so very high
into a brilliant sky

leaving the clouds
far below
like rolling pillow‘d snow

until all I hear
murmuring in my ear
is the voice
of that breeze

watching the world
bend away
over infinite horizons

seeing all of life
from a new perspective

seeking truth
a prime objective

photo by: Eugene Soloviev

now is when
I begin
the revealing journey
out and in

swept up
and away
in ever-climbing
ascent today

silently upward
as joy rises

*
rob kistner © 2023

More Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

More Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

More Poetry at: earthweal

S itting here
I play
off key
waiting
for the light
of inspiration

I watch the flow
of people

the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes

I see shapes of faces
scabbed unsmiling lips

their void curve
denounce this evening
damp & dreary

they’re escaping yuck
the black hole sun
as fate is
dancin’ in the moonlight
yet unseen
black and charred
by this celestial anomaly
this heavenly abomination
this black hole sun

when the gossamer curtain
falls
defining these nameless

I sense
their soul’s duality

realizing
the divergent reality
through which
their truth
stumbles blind

to move in the world
rough as a rope
taut as every promise made

frayed as wisdom
leaned in
whispered from behind

I reach high
to grab at time
like dropped money
ever more precious

doing so
I notice the shoes
the belts
the bags

all made of leather

tanned hides
of the dead
innocent

I feel a shiver

a sad imbalance

a confliction
in my soul

so
I’ll practice non-attachment
because I can
M
knowing
I must

and observey
the lonely lady in red
whose trapped her words
on paper
locked in a wired cage

wholly removed
indifferent

but still
pieces of me
of my sorrow
stick
to her

to whomever
gets too close

you may have seen me
sobbing

silhouetted against the sky
the coldest night in January

playing
with the frozen moon

a duet
to make the coyotes
of this concrete
cower in their dens

then moon and I
sneak away

then we run
from room
to imaginary room
hiding from the devious
black hole sun

the whole world
close enough to touch

yet distant
distracted

much like the woman
in the black on white dress
deflecting
the rain of chaos
with her parasol

later
we will eat
a midnight lunch

white cheese sandwiches
dressed with dreams
and fragrances
of foreign lands

and onion’d thoughts
layered thick
and deep

oh
but please
peel back the layers
peel them away
to my clean

thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul

I hope
I am not hideousn
in your sight

I’m the 35mm man
show mercy

these thoughts
my thoughts
become too heavy to hold

or chew
or swallow

or lug
in this massive bag
of regret

my thoughts
my madness

bonewhite lies
of morality plays
open for you to peek

hope they are not
hideous in your sight

hope they do not
give you fright
make you cry

I will play
a sad song
as you peel back
all the layers

onion’d
thought
layers

held fast and firm

tonight
there is a schism
in the big apple
stitched red

a weight
in the force

like a carapace
to which
I’m stitched
and welded

and can no more leave
than you can truly enter

it ties me down
sometimes

but sometimes
barely so

survivor that I am

the inescapable optimism
in my barebones grin

my callused fingers
rebending strings
to make them sigh

my faux smile flashes
in the brittle moonlight
that rises
through the fog
this night

a night
of wounded dreams
as lovers
betrayed by love
wonder in their bed

what is this
all about…
alfie

really

and a patrolman
comes to where I sit
to look
see
and listen

his mag’s big beam
blinds the stars
from my eyes

brandishing his warm
weaponized smile

his radar eyes
scan the forgotten creases
and clandestine getaways
in my mind

searching my truth

standing over
he looks down
icy eye’d

he sees my scabbed lips
cracked and dry
“black sun got you”
“this is madness”
he says

but I know
one of us
can learn
a thing or two
tonight

if someone
pulls the bow
just right

presses the strings
down tight

plays
with insight

if someone
will just release the light
trapped by that black hole sun

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

This is a rhyme pattern I think I conceived: aba cddc — calling it the triquadric.

 
And as it must — the river flows
impatient to be onward
as onward — so it goes

‘tween twists and turns
of bolder’d banks — and fate
as though it simply cannot wait
the purpose of its journey burns

into the future does it stretch
at first — but a lazy trickle
‘til a torrent rushes on its fetch

something urgent beckons further
perhaps a vision on the horizon
churns the current to enliven
and stirs to froth its coursing fervor

still it will not — cannot stop
its destiny lies far ahead
its surging power will not drop

over obstacle and barrier
it must deliver its fare downstream
to the very threshold of a dream
its purpose deemed to be a carrier

the dream — is my very life
the river — is my pulsing essence
and yes – the passage had its strife

many ports of wonder I left behind
but I would make this trip again
for the loved ones — and for the friends
and for the beautiful — that shined

also — the river is precious time
and on — and ever on it rolls
as I near the destined end of mine

my heart is scarred — but full of riches
for all I’ve had, lost, n’those I’ve treasured
tears of joy and sorrow flow unmeasured
I pray fate grant my final wishes

to remember it all — when comes my end
in mindful gratitude for ev’ry thing
make strong my spirit – over fear transcend

may I feel my life energy lift and fly
have voice to say thank you for our life
as I gaze into the eyes of my belov’ed wife
with my children and grandson gathered near
to feel the love – when finally comes — my last Goodbye

*
rob kistner © 2023

More star poetry at: dVerse

To grow up
is to chase off
our innocence

to stifle our naive belief
in the world as a beautiful place

it is to harden against the magic
of our childhood dreams

but if by chance
we can hold tight
to just one
of those wonderful foolishnesses

perhaps we can hold on
to our precious sense of wonder

I was once
years ago
in real danger
of running myself up a tree
out onto a lonely limb
my wonder ebbing

but you pulled me out of it

you have since
filled my life
with wonder
with radiance
with magic
and with breathtaking beauty

please hear
beyond just these words
because my deepest love
is in here — calling

I pray I can hold on
to the wonder of you
my love
for a lifetime longer

however long that may prove to be
please know
my precious valentine
that I love you
with all my heart

with all the essence
of my being

My Kathy has cancer.

*
rob kistner © 2023

Poetry at: dVerse

More Poetry for OLN at: dVerse

Poetry at: dVerse

photo by: Oleg Oprisco

Lake mistress sees
the guilty knot
of sinew’d evil
that brutally slays

by she, called forth…
vengeance — fang and claw
to ravage at nights
and hunt by days

young witch of wile
with will of steel
perched encloaked
in innocence sorrows

repays the sins
of the vilest few
who in blackest deed
stained pure tomorrows

photo by: Christian Houge

piercing molten
through wolf’n eyes
in steady gaze
stalks with the beast

vain trembling
is the villain’s fear
when set upon
by this blood moon priest

there is a truth
in that circled moon
that empowers this
righteous ambuscade

it wades in shadows
reaping the wickedest
‘til midnight’s debt
is fully paid

image from: Verbena

when seeking justice
all restraints are shed
wolf and lady prowl
in fur and leather

procuring retribution
across the realm
they avenge the holy
with edge and tether

they both are gifted
with unmatched strength
and superb cunning
and there’s another

the special gift
to become just one
to meld at will
one with the other

in brute unified rage
and redoubled fury
they rip the cowards
in moonlight’s wild

‘til never an innocent
be again found to fear
nor precious purity
be again defiled

and all that died
less blame or fault
will on this night
be requited raw

and guilted hearts
will hide away
to deny at dawn
the truth they saw

*
rob kistner © 2023

More Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Tao Te Ching
Seven Eyes Seven Legs

One can see mystery
the center a tiny mystic
it is like a veil barely seen

a world so full of beauty
hidden deep but ever present

there were no shadows

it is the space within
the world before this one

the more it moves the more it yields

wizards had great power in the land
creating yet not possessing

they dream their summer dreams
washing and cleansing the primal vision
as prayers to appease the ghost lands
holding fast to the center
that we live in
knowing harmony is constancy

great care must be taken
precious things lead one astray
then all the ghosts set the rules

if nothing is done then all will be well
then all the people are happy

the truth often sounds paradoxical
things are not always as they seem
do not be concerned with a loss or gain

certain life is silent waiting
but who can remain still until the moment of action

I sit and beat the drum
and move with the present
as wild birds cry against the broken sky
as the sage stays behind

very strong is his medicine

am I a fool — but yes I am confused
some events can be both wonderful and terrifying
but knowing constancy the mind is open
to lives long enough to come in two parts

the highest good is when
joyfully dancing out of the earth
wisdom and intelligence are born

before the sun goes down and darkness comes
set things in order before all is confusion

I know that this is true

*
rob kistner © 2023

Poetry at: dVerse

 
Nineteen sixty one
was a tough year
at least for me

I had just turned 14
and what gripped my mind
at my February birthday party
was the two year wait I faced
until I could drive

my fantasy car
was a ‘57 Chevy V8 Bel Airu
convertible of course

day dreams
of top-down cruisin’
my girl by my side
and the radio thumpin’

as it turned out
summer of ‘63
was to prove
a great summer of tunes

Martha and her Vandellas
wailin’ out Heat Wave

the Chiffons sweetly singin’
He’s So Fine

and Franki Vali
and the Four Seasons
all walkin’ like a man

the Beach Boys
singin’ about an ocean
I had yet to see
much less
knowin’ how to surf

but loved their harmonies

then there was Smokey
with some monkey
that belonged to Mickey

who knew
who the hell
Mickey was

OH — and those 4 Beatle guys
from Liverpool

strange name
and strange hair
but great tunes

~ tuuunezz ~

ya know
I love tunes

so many great tunes
so many great groups

especially in 1963
I’m 16-years-old

hot tunes
right there
playin’ on the AM radio
in the coooll dashboard
of my dream car

my 1957 RED chevy BelAir
con…ver…tible

oh — by the way
this girl by my side
this — is my beautiful Donna

at 14
she is already sexy — NO

and yes
I’ve kissed her

and occasionally
got to 2nd base

even 3rd base
but only once

last week
after my 14th birthday party

WOW!

and our fantasy now
at least for me
is ignoring a movie
while foggin’up the windows
at our local passion pit

the Mt. Healthy Drive In

of course to drive in
I needed a car

to drive a car
I needed a license

to get a license
I needed to be 16

so you can see
why being only 14
in 1961
was stressful as hell

at least for me

I knew I’d get my license
given I already drove
although — without a license

drove very carefully
with my head on a swivel
scopin’ for cops

of course
the passion pit
required a car
but I had a plan

my uncle Bernie
leased parking lots
down at Crosley field
where the Cincinnati Reds
played professional baseball

he had promised me
at my 14th birthday party
if I could get a permit
to park cars at Crosely
he would hire me to park cars
during the games each summer
starting the coming summer

he said he’d pay me one dollar
for each car I parked

well
I didn’t actually park the cars
just directed the drivers to spaces
makin’ sure they didn’t crash
or hang over their marked spot

I had done a thorough inquiry
about how many spaces in the lot
and how many home games
so I’d done the math

if I played my cards right
and could get that permit
I would have enough
on my 16th birthday
to buy my fantasy car

used car of course
but that was fine
at least for me

I had to wait 6 weeks
nerve racking weeks
to see if I could that permit
in time for April’s Opening Day Game

which in those days
was a BIG DEAL
they were the BIG RED MACHINE

it was the very first game
played each year
in all of pro baseball

it was because
the Cincinnati Reds
were the 1st ever
professional baseball team

finally
the end of March 1961
I got what I feel was
the best gift I ever got

my permit to park cars
at the Reds’ Crosley Field

this would be the key
to my big red machine

my uncle kept his word
and I worked very hard
those next two summers

February 18th of 1963
my 16th birthday
I had enough money
to make my car dream
come true

it was the greatest
or certainly one of
the greatest days ever

at least for me

I had already found the car
so two weeks later
with Donna by my side
we bought my dream car

the very first thing we did
was put the top down
and go for a cruise

a very cold cruise
because it was
February in Ohio

but we loved it

Louie Louie
by the Kingsmen
was rockin’
outta the AM radio

instinctually

I was heading
for the drive-in
when suddenly
I realized

the drive in
was not open
in February
in Ohio

so we just cruised
the rest of that day

of course
only after
I put the top back up

as I was instructed

I cruised day after day
for many days
and many nights
far into the future

my cars changed
as did the names
of the girl
sitting beside me

but not that day

that day
it was
me and Donna
cruisin’
and groovin’

at 30 cents a gallon
cruisin’ was easy then

and that day
I realized
we had to wait
for that first trip
to the passion pit

but believe me
the wait
proved – to – be – worth it

at least for me

*
rob kistner © 2023

Poetry at: dVerse

OLN Poetry at: dVerse

Robert E. Bourke of Loewy/Studebaker is credited with the Starliner design.

Beautiful 1953 Starliner, customized & owned by Ian Hendry of Yorba Linda, California.

 
Gliding to earth
a heavenly burst
of stardust

gracefully sleek
igniting our lust

Bourke’s vision
of automotive chic

as enticing
and exciting
as a beautiful women

no american car
ever minimalisticaly finer

a heavenly body
named for its celestial muse
the alluringly stunning
Starliner

*

Original stock 1953 Starliner.

rob kistner © 2023

Poetry at: dVerse

 
Kathy
my warrior

cancer’s foolishly
chosen you as a foe

it’ll never
break your spirit

you are a star

you’ll slay this beast
strike it down

you’ll be
its masters

together
we’ll fight
— ferociously

cancer’s been a fool
to choose you as a foe!

Kathy

*
rob kistner © 2023

More star poetry at: dVerse

H ope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops – at all –

”Vigil” — by: Laura Makabresku

Emily understood well here
the strength of a soul’s resolve

and yes, my dear sweet Kathy
cancer has made the foolish choice
to choose you as a foe…
because you are insurmountable

it will never break
your face of courage
but smashed will surely be
any face of fear

photo — by: iloveblsck3

and I will be your soldier
through it all
my love for you
will be your strongest armor…
it will never fail

we will set fire to the moon
if it is we must
to bring the victor’s torch
into this darkness

photo — by: Justin Peters

and we will burn fiercely
with the fire of love
and this ugly perverse beast
will be consumed to ash

when this most inconceivable campaign
comes to it’s undeniable conclusion
you will have beaten this beast
and you will be its master

neither you nor I
know how to lose
only how to fight
and fight we will
— ferociously

what a fool cancer has been
to choose you as a foe!

*
~ the opening stanza is quoted from Emily Dickinson ~

rob kistner © 2023

Mo’ Po’tree at: The Sunday Muse