Ride the moon
light the poet’s lamp
explore the secret realm of rhyme
ride the moon
to seek the magic
that glistens there
like stardust
in the folds of time
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at: dVerse
Author: Rob Kistner
Was A Raven
The light bends away
fleetingly
I dare chase after
startled by my sorrow
reaching to grasp the elusive beam
instead
I’ve a fistful of fire
frustration
and feathers
charred
deep ebony plumage
my ears are scorched
by a coarsely blared caw
as in the corner of my eye
I glimpse
a flaming raven
spiraling wildly
plummeting toward earth
it’s caught
by the blinding rays
of a nocturnal dream
a nightmare
that is not my own
about a foreign land
in which I lived
before my birth
but have never visited
suddenly
the falling fiery figure
eyes blazing red
disappears
vanishing
into a gaping hole
opening in the earth
at that moment
flushed with the pangs
of debilitating uncertainty
I begin to sob
as the sun sets
on my future
and all my past sins
begin to repeat
in an endless loop
of sad surrender
my body shakes
convulsing
in the laughter
of madness
my mind
flooded with a lone thought
is ripping at my sanity
as my logic leaks out
and I lose altitude
screaming
“at least
I think
that was a raven”
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at: dVerse
Indigo Nightmare
The murder of crows
rain from the skies
swarm the earth
caw and crowd wildly
a chaos of cacophony
a frenzy of undulating black
tearing at a shadowed heap
drawing more closely
I see the object
of their mania
a body
a lifeless body
my body!
my eyes jerk open
waking with a start
shuddering a fevered sweat
I’m tight
in this nightmare’s grip
no alarm
need bid me awaken
this day
a fumbling for the lamp
follows moments of confusion
sitting upright
I slow my breathing
wipe dry my brow
then
throwing my leges
over the edge of my bed
I stumble my feet
into my slippers
and slowly rise
from the soak of my mattress
still shaking slightly
I tug on my robe
amble to the kitchen
take a cup from the shelf
and pour chamomile tea
it’s brewed ready each morning
by the wonders of technology
retreating to my office
to my chair
where it waits
welcoming
in a pool of soft light
buffering the pre-dawn dark
I sit
sip my steeped motivation
quietly peeling away fog
that lingers still
clouding my mind
residue of this fitful night
somber
I’m pleased to be awake
to be alive
grateful for the peace
for the deep quiet
of early morning
finally
my thoughts
begin to un-blend
to gather
slowly they sort
in colors of my dark mood
melancholy greys
fear’s dark ebony
the purples of pain
blood red of anger
the violet of regret
and sorrowful blues
it’s an incomplete spectrum
stirred by this morning’s
reflections on death
on my mortality
recently threatened twice
by my failing heart
then under the surgeon’s knife
these bleak colors
shoulder in coldly
crowding my reverie
pondering my plight
cursing this recurring fate
I struggle
‘neath the weight of my uncertainty
of my heavy insecurity
a riot of emotions
overcome me
crowding in
like this morning’s madness
of the imagined murder of crows
I seek clarity
I reach for my laptop
my escape
my refuge of resolution
my canvass of language
I slowly lay fingers
on keyboard
in the spreading saffrons
and corals of dawn
I begin painting
deep indigo
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at: dVerse
Soon Summer
At last fair summer soon arrives, just in time to resuscitate my sense of humor. The winter rains still stubbornly linger. But soon the sky will remain sunny and clear, as will my lifting mood, stirring summer dreams in the golden warmth. I celebrate this season of plenty.
The seeds push sprouts through the rich warm earth, as nature cycles to this time of birth. New buds pop forth through ready limbs. Mountain streams run fast and clear as nature’s curtain lifts on this magical time of year — as the veil lifts on my sweet recall.
Bird songs will echo through the greening trees to serenade my reverie. The heady fragrance of summer will carry on the gentle breeze, as the bold hues and rich sounds of this beautiful boisterous season fill my soul to bursting! Rockin’ my Adirondack — joyous is my heartsong!
turns in golden summer sun
red bird softly sings
*
rob kistner © 2022
* Some bonus summer tankas >> HERE
More poetry at: dVerse
Who Am I
This piece deals with the strange duality we all carry with us through life, the unique contradiction between the person we think we are, and the “many” varying persons others perceive us to be, from their experience of us, as filtered through their differing individual perceptions. Fair or not, convenient or not, we are “judged”. Our lives are impacted, to one degree or another, every day by how we measure up to each of these interpretations of the “I” we are thought to be. This includes the “I” we perceive ourselves to be. Which one is real? Which is valid? Or is any one of them truly definitive? The phrase “I am” presents a fascinating philosophical quandary.
”Ask not, who are we — existentially, we are me.”
When another
tells you of yourself
you’re shown the dance they see
your outward choreography
they hear not the music
that rings true within your mind
that leads and drives your steps
to your inward dance — they’re blind
others see a reflection
not the light that shines inside
that illuminates your soul
to guide your steps and stride
so, are we the “I” we know
the self that we so treasure
or are we in fact — another
the one the others measure
if the authentic “I”
be the one outward shown.
then we are in fact — the “I”
to ourselves — not known
for surely when compared
the majority story shared
is of the outward other
the one seen by another
and so we live our life
cloistered in this outward other
and live this life alone
even when by many known
for the “I” that’s outward shown
is likely the “I” that’s not our own
to be truly known is an unlikelihood
we are all so easily misunderstood
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Duality
The eyes are so familiar
the nose
the mouth
the chin
staring back
the one they think I am
the one I want to be
but a longer look
deeper into the stare
there is another
one only I recognize
there
caught in the reflection
revealed
my other self
inner self
the one I truly am
the dark one
the pretender
the imposter
born in another place
born with another name
in another reality
I was an “undesired”
an inconvenient child
I was labeled — MISTAKE!
misbegotten
unfortunate
a problem
ultimately
to be left behind
alone
abandoned
in a cold metal orphanage crib
in a big
sparse
cold room
overseen
by strange
grey-habit’d
amorphous figures
nuns!
I had been tried
convicted
and sentenced
for my early life
to know confusion
know shame
know the sorrow
of the unwanted
and through my early years
I did not understand
I struggled
felt so alienated
felt condemned
guilty only
of the crime
of inconvenience
someone else’s
inconvenience
but that is yet another life
another story
that will finally include a hero
that will eventually resolve
now
I’m just tryin’ to get by
so I shudder
break my stare
now a brief tug of insecurity
a twinge of fear
hoping that my guise holds fast
that I’m not found out
my imperfection
my duality
this masquerade
I blink wide my eyes
and check my teeth
lift my paw
to stroke my fur
making certain my “mask” is tight
best face forward
always
a final glance
I purr away the doubt
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
So Wicked
G olden lady — just who are you
a beauty sure to mesmerize
so seductive as to scandalize
your my every dream come true
I’m spellbound by your magic eyes
I’m in a trance — you hypnotize
a stare of comely crystal blue
floats low above a sensual pout
you hold my soul — I’ve no way out
tongue-wet lips smolder passion’s hue
blush painted by your master hand
such masterstrokes you understand
I’m captive — nothing I can do
I’m quite hopelessly addicted
my sweet angel — you’re so wicked
golden lady — just who are you
your my every dream come true
a stare of comely crystal blue
tongue-wet lips smolder passion’s hue
I’m captive — nothing I can do
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at: dVerse
Moon Rider
Gaze upon
the mythic moon
light your spark of wonder
with a brightened moonbeam
drink up
the mystery moon
let it fill you
full and good
night
is the time of promise
follow
the elusive moon
walk closely
find its secret place
of crystal dreams
of fractal visions
capture
the wilding moon
embrace
its sterling spirit
let it set free
your fantasies
then ride
the magnificent moon
ride
to the realm
of midnight magic
that glistens
for you there
like stardust
in the folds of time
* *
— SHORT RHYMING VERSION —
Ride the moon
light the poet’s lamp
explore the secret realm of rhyme
ride the moon
to seek the magic
that glistens there
like stardust
in the folds of time
*
rob kistner © 2022
~ moonlight — goodnight — moonwalk ~
More poetry at: dVerse
Bangkok Blues
Ruby’d facets sparkle
clutter on
tugging me along
clusters
of headlights
bunch diamond bright
nudging me onward
the precious chaos
jumbles for miles
to disappear
beyond sight
front and rear
Bangkok traffic’s tight
this midnight
as I creep
only two thoughts
hotel
and sleep
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at: dVerse
Cosmic Ghia
This is the last known photo
of my amazing inter-galactic
multi-dimensional flying Ghia
and surf buggy supreme
it was taken immediately prior to it
hurtling into the milky way
leaving on its journey
‘cross the crystal galaxy
to travel to Talurus
to mine the golden god tears
that puddle and collect
very near the lapis covered
temple of temporal fire
at the cliffen’d base
of the pearl forests of argus major
all I know for perplexing certainty
is that following the day
my legendary magic Ghia
was to have reached its cosmic destination
star trader — after star trader — after star trader
began delivering me cases — upon cases
of gilded crystal teal tear fall
with notes to count clearly — and index
then prepare them for the prophesized return time
when the wealth of our small band of ghiaphytes
will be shared with joy and life-changing impact
among the fair and faithful who served well
despite incredible improbability
by waiting — believing — and holding to the truth
passed down ions upon ions by the ole volks
foretelling the coming
of a mysterious wonder wagon of dreams
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
So Luscious
reprised 5/12/2022 …homage to Misky’s 5/10/22 prompt
My warm mouth
upon you
fully
I bite you
gently
feeling your flesh
firm on my teeth
your juices glisten
trickle from my lips
heady rich
and sticky thick
your taste
tantalizingly tart
tingling my tongue tip
I bite you
crisply
my savoring breath
swoons softly
your texture
is exquisite
and bouquet
intoxicating
your succulence
like love’s nectar
such a luscious pleasure
my sweet strawberry!
*
rob kistner © 2019
10/1/19 poetry at: dVerse
*
rob kistner © 2022
5/10/22 poetry at: dVerse
5/12/22 OLN poetry at: dVerse
https://youtu.be/yFc-clt3vKc
Time’s Portal
At tomorrow’s sunrise, I submit to the knife. My faith in the wielding hand has before been tested, and found reward, and the hand capable. But time’s a stream. With it the essence of everything flows in flux. I’m not who I was when last I acquiesced to the skill and demeanor of this healer. And this healer’s endured the impacts of time, to be here now, in this new place.
How’s this all to be held? Only fate ultimately determines what situation will bear presence in this new light of day. Am I wise casting my lot with this evolved reality? Has fate moved favorably through the portal of time? For how can I be sure I shall see again the world on the first of May, year next? I cannot, yet again I’ll close my eyes, to ride the great wheel.
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
Goin’ Down
Abandoned from the beginning
turned loose alone
down the slide of life
no preparation
no explanation
no true identification
just — baby go…
!!wheeeeee!!
off you sailed
mini mr tieke
enduring and surviving
each unexpected turn
each unseen bump
each unsettling drop
faster and faster
as time flashed by
in a hurry
kinda blurry
as you picked up speed
you picked up vague images
collecting them
clinging to them
embracing them desperately
turning them to realities
at least
to the best of your abilities
lil’man alone
you made them your own
you made them your life
you smiled
you shed tears
mostly
you just held on
battling fears
until
a real dad stepped in
got better then
you made time
you lost time
you made love
you lost love
you made no excuses
and now
here you are lil’ lawrence
very near the bottom
squeeze those dreams
if ‘ya still got’m
soon it will end
how will it end
only the verse of poets
or the dogmas of priests
dare venture a posit
and they got no clue
no more than you
little freefall lad
but soon you will know
if you end up glad
or if you been had
you might just find
nuthin’
as perhaps
it is meant to be
we’ll see
won’t we
well now
hope the hell now
you enjoyed the ride
the terror
the thrills
the speed
because
in the end
my friend
the ride
is all that’s
guaranteed
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry at: earthweal
bottom picture by: Robert Doisneau “The Ghost Train,” 1953
is it this,
or this,
who really knows?
Together
This day
despite my fear
calm settles over me
the warm embrace that is my love
for you
the fog
of foolish thoughts
that would disrupt my peace
cannot enshroud me — for you are
with me
I see
with clarity
how real our love to be
our true bond of fidelity
gives strength
it’s now
when life seems dark
and fear seeks to consume
I have the love and comfort of
your heart
I know
when this has passed
you will be waiting here
knowing this — I face fate fearless
this day
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
Hands of Grief
Having it been confirmed I’m entering stage 4 CHF, with preparation for yet another heart operation underway this week for me, my thoughts fall to my father, whom we lost to a heart condition. He was my hero, and to this day, I miss him so very very much.
Deep in nightfall
the darkness now descends
the hands of grief extend
terror is knocking at the door
it’s nightfall
words of sorrow stain my lips
slip through my fingertips
and scatter ‘cross the floor
it’s nightfall
the shadows hide my tears
but I am haunted by my fears
I am broken evermore
here in this nightfall
dark waves of misery
are rising like the sea
I am stranded on the shore
it’s nightfall
I am lost — I am alone
confusion grips me to the bone
grief chills me to my core
it’s nightfall
the darkness still descends
the hands of grief again extend
terror is knocking — knocking at the door
as this knocking echoes in my night
I hear you call my name
“be brave my son — for sure
you have been here before”
I whisper through tears and pain
”father — help me again endure”
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse