Love’s Dreams

~ In the face of the horrors of our times, I chose, rather I need to focus on love for this entire week — then I will wade back into the sewer we call the world these days… but as Scarlett put it, “I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.” for me — next week! ~


 

We place our dreams in our open palms
so the winds of fortune
will make them soar

we enrich our dreams with the gift of song
so their harmony’s sweet
and their sound is pure

we bestow our dreams the wings of trust
so they lift and carry
to wisdom’s shore

we share our dreams today — and always
so our love will bind them
forevermore

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 


Sweet Night

~ In the face of the horrors of our times, I chose, rather I need to focus on love for this entire week — then I will wade back into the sewer we call the world these days… but as Scarlett put it, “I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.” for me — next week! ~


 

Let us make sweet love
spellbound in May

in the cool night breeze
at the end of day

on the silvered beach
of a slate blue bay

as moonlit waves roll in
and softly slide away

we’ll embrace

wrapped in the season’s
heady sway

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 


Joe’s Juke Joint

We were too stupidly gaw-gaw, and too young, to realize what a miracle we were living. Thank the heavens for the memories of that beautiful, righteous chaos!


“The Whitehouse Diner” by Aaron Segreaves

 

Joe’s diner
any friday night
after the football game

young legs
carry firm eager bodies
mingling ‘mongst the booths
laughter bursting
pulses racing
fantasies entwining

dreamy babes
handsome hunks
young lust
hot as the fry top
broiling
‘midst the milkshakes
and hot slathered burgers

craving
yet hesitant

swept up in innocent bliss
basking in the jukebox glow
throbbing with the big beat
of scorching rock ‘n roll

creamy cake
jake

the scene
smoldering for some
longing for more
confusing for most

a pubescent play
caught in a neon magic spell
sparking with awkward carnality

when a kiss
and fleshy fondle
was euphoric

autumn’s chill outside
passion’s flames inside

humid as our urgent embraces
hot as our stolen kisses
as forever as our promised love
in that distant
sizzling
teenage midnight…

…sweet ghosts of my youth
haunt from long ago

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

 

~ Joe’s Diner’s top 20 jukebox selections ~




https://youtu.be/SxtvDbleWxY








https://youtu.be/ZofOHdlLwiw






An Artist Mourns


My current, and likely final art project

artists must create
when that expression is robbed
the soul is wounded

Here you see me sorting the small portion remaining of the hundreds of Talisman I have created over the years. Severe arthritis in my hands deemed these will be my last. Here I’m choosing the colors and textures of leather mounting backs I wish to use with each. They will then be prepared for sale, mat-mounted individually in 6” x 8” black lacquered, solid wood, double frames, which I’d constructed.

I created my Talisman by disassembling discarded jewelry parts & pieces, “found” over the years at secondhand stores, garage sales, and estate sales. Each contains 6 to 18 random parts I reclaimed from scrapped jewelry, using jeweler’s tools. Then, using sterling or gold jewelry findings (fasteners, connectors, endings, and wire), I rejoined by hand, again using jeweler’s tools, and upcycled unrelated elements, to create each unique, cohesive Talisman.

These are my final Talisman. Arthritis has already robbed me of my ability to create my Serenity Totems, which I sold for years, at top juried art shows nationwide. 6 examples of the 3’ midsized, and 1 of the large 4’ Totems, you see below. The complex steps to create my handmade Totems were many, utilizing a wide variety of upcycled materials and techniques, including woven elements from my wife. Each Totem featured a completed Talisman as one of its elements.

I also partnered with my wife Kathy for 33 years in our Fibrations Studios. She is a master weaver. I would design and build the creative mounting substrates and unique tops for her pieces. She and I co-displayed at these national juried art shows over the years, selling our art together. I will no longer be able to build for my wife. All these particular joys of creation are now forever lost to me — I mourn deeply.

oh these deft fingers
that created fantasies
have now betrayed me

*
rob kistner © 2022

35C6DAEF-40AA-452C-885C-C373E1DE84F6
Hi! I’m Edgrrr, I was rob’s shih tzu. He misses me every day.

Poetry at: dVerse

~ Shots of my creative activity in my studio ~





~ Examples of our Fibrations Studio’s work ~





Turbulent Indigo



art by: Debi Adams

 

He awakens
unbidden by alarm
lingers in the darkness
warm neath the blankets

fumbling for the lamp
follows moments of procrastination
before he lifts himself upright
slides feet into slippers
to rise ever so stiffly
from the comfort of bed

pulling on his robe
he ambles to the kitchen
takes a cup from the shelf
pours chamomile tea
brewed ready each morning
by the wonders of technology

he retreats to his office
to his chair
where it waits
welcoming
in a pool of soft light
buffered against the chill
of pre-dawn dark

he sits
sips steeped motivation
quietly peeling away fog
that layers his mind
residue of another fitful night

he is somber
but pleased to be awake
to be alive
grateful for the peace
and the quiet of early morning
fleeting though it is

his thoughts
begin to un-blend
to gather
in a cohesive palette
stirring his notice

slowly they sort
in colors of mood

melancholy greys
fear’s dark ebony
purples of pain and anger
the violet of regret
sorrowful blues
gentle peaceful greens
golden joy
laughter’s bright amber
love’s ruby red
the scarlet of passion

but the colors have spilled
running raw ‘cross the floor
puddling in chaos
spectrum’s cacophony

this morning
reflections on his mortality
newly threatened
shoulder in coldly
crowding his reverie
bleeding this morning
into only shades of grey

pondering his plight
cursing fate
he struggles
neath the weight of uncertainty

he feels frozen
trapped by failing health
but he realizes
no bondage is worse
than the hope of happiness

but still
he hopes
he always hopes

a riot of emotions
overcome him
he seeks clarity

he reaches for his laptop
his tool of resolution
his canvass of language

in the spreading saffrons
and corals of dawn
he begins painting turbulent indigo

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 

~ songs by two true goddesses & and a dude ~



Peace Blossom

 

The burst of cherry blossoms outside my window, always heralds an uplift in my mood. Their bright blooms bring a lightness to my spirit, that puts a smile in my heart. Their delicate countenance speaks to me of peace and gentle beauty, while the heady fragrance stirs thoughts and feelings of love.

They deliver me from the doldrums of winter into the joys of the unfolding spring, celebrating renewal and new possibility. The time of cherry blossoms is a sacred time of transcendence, to be honored and embraced with gratitude, for the blessing of rebirth. May this stricken world find rekindled hope.

In these terrible days of war, may the cherry blossoms of Dovzhenko and Rakoczy streets, and Pushkin Square, often called Sakura Alley, bloom forth as if in a fantastic Garden of Eden. May it serve to remind the people of Uzhgorod, in this beautiful Ukraine region, that hope and peace, just as these amazing blossoms, will return.

sweet pink blossoms burst
red spring buds have spread their wings
soon will be cherries


Pushkin Square in Uzhgorod, Ukraine

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse


 

Space Flower

 
Wow — it is so hard to believe
that it’s finally time to leave
the spaceport

last night I nearly opted out
lying in bed thinking about
this spaceflight

I am nervous — I’m telling you
I fear at blast off I might poo
my spacesuit

but it’s damned cool that of this crew
I am the one who gets to do
the spacewalk

is this to me a dream come true
yes — if they keep me tethered to
the spacecraft

all this really is so very new
who’d a’though it’s Helianthus that knew
Im’a spaceman

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 


Morning Walk

 

Across the meadow
looks like Helianthus and the girls
are gathering again
for their morning walk

oh shit
the damned sky is on fire
again

I mean —
what the hell…

looks like that fuckin’ rewsky
is blowin’ things up again

ya’ know
his stupid war
certainly puts a damper on
a beautiful Kiev morning

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 



From Afar

restingonpath-web

 
 

Across the meadow
last night’s dew clings
fondly to the old-growth

wrapped in crystalline embrace
it adorns the stately cedars
as if diamonds
that sparkle
in the morning sun

a splendor befitting
their regal beauty

this Spring day
begins bright and crisp

bird songs lilt
carried on a light breeze

in the meadow
Helianthus raise their golden heads
to follow the sun’s journey west

I see you afar
approaching on the path
backlit by sunrise
your hair golden in dawn’s glow

I watch you
as you stop to rest

in this moment
my love
perks its tender head
I’m consumed

your dog has trotted ahead of you
to meet me in the sunflowers
chuffing in excitement

I look
to catch site of you
again

so beautiful
your lips sculpt a smile
I’m swept away
on passion’s tide
this golden sunflower morning

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 


Love’s Fool


“Sad Harlequin” by: Lladro

 

The moment of not-spring — is still
has no bold herald — just a date
in time

no upheaval in my earth’s crust
no disturbance of gravity
it’s mute

the moment of not-spring passes
as can the moment of not-love
unseen

they both pass by me — so quiet
no disruption — no disturbance
silent

but when I realized love died
the pain was so unbearable
I wailed

as it broke my earth wide open
and the stars fell from my heaven
sorrow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

when I think back — I did not know
that I was losing you — my love
foolish

I should have spent more time with you
and less time building my ego
regret

such regret

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

 



Dark Masquerade

”In the real world, as in dreams, nothing is quite as it seems.” — Dean Koontz

~ not for the faint of heart ~
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The eyes are beautiful
the eyes are seductive
the eyes are sad

the eyes are so familiar

the nose
the mouth
the chin

staring back
the one they think I am
I want to be

but a longer look
deeper into the eyes
beneath the transparent surface
concealed in the silver
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 evil one
the pretender
the killer

…such a beautiful predator
such perfection

another
again tonight
such precision

he never saw it coming

our eyes closed
the lustful kiss
then
my sweet rapier
softly ‘cross his neck

so easy

so exciting
to feel them die
to witness the power
of life crossing over

one intimate
last goodbye

a sacred act of raw release
such purity
of primal instinct…

suddenly I shudder
break my stare

a brief pang of conscience
a twinge of fear
a momentary rolling fog
of uncertainty
hoping that my guise holds fast
that I’m not found out
in my brilliant imperfection
in my soul’s
dark masquerade

but like first light
I blink wide my eyes
and check my teeth
brush my hair
tug straight my cape
making certain my masque is tight

best face forward
always

a final glance in the mirror
I pout away the evil
I smile away the doubt

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

 


Night Reflections


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“Night Reflections” – Dimitri Otis

 

Standing on the wilderness edge
of this mighty ocean

a night breeze
snatches a paper from my hand

looking up
into crystalline clarity
I gasp

perfectly cloudless night sky

how vast this cosmos
how breathtakingly endless
how stupidly small — humans
making war beneath infinity

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse

 



Pondering

The big 4: who am I, why am I, where am I — really? Where am I going?
Or in-fact — is this all there is?


photo by: G-Crew

 

Here
I see a glass reflected
in a puddle
on the ground

it appears
it is right here
and at the same time
down there
underneath

but

is that glass here
with me
or is it in the other
a mirrored reality
where I cannot be

or too
am I also in the other
is there another
who is also
me

down there
or elsewhere
seeing what I see
inverted

in a place
to which I cannot go
but only catch a glimpse
caught in a reflection

but if there is another me
which can I
authentic be

I feel my mind wander
wondering about this
about this entity
that I call
me

when another
tells you of yourself
you’re shown the dance they see
your outward choreography

but they tell you naught
of the music
that rings true
in your mind
in your soul

that leads and drives
your steps

to this inward dance
they’re blind

in their eyes
you are shown your reflection

they see not the light
that shines inside
that illuminates your soul

are we the I that we know
the self that we so treasure
or are we in fact the other
the one the others measure

for if the valid I
be the one
that is most outwardly known
then we are in fact that I
the one to ourselves not shown

for surely when compared
the majority story shared
is of the outward other
the one seen by the others

and so we live our life
cloistered in our other
the one that is
our own
and live this life alone
even when by many known
for the I
that’s outward shown
is the I
that’s not our own

but it is the I
that impacts
all those we’ve known

think on this
let your mind be blown
above it all
let your love be grown


image by René Magritte

hmmm…

I wonder so
about reflections
introspections
contradictions

about puddles
mirrors
shiny windows

…and even chrome

what is it in these
that I see

a door
to even more

perhaps a window too
to another me
to another you
in another home
where we also live
another life
both unaware

are we there
alone

…or has this been
all there is

if it is so
let us sing!

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

~ music for the mind & soul ~



In Black Satin Sky

This is a peace poem.
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Moon moon round and bright
silver in black satin sky
bare your sterling soul on high
annoint our dreams that they may fly

may your deep-night healing magic
shimmer ‘cross this sleeping world
may enchantment be this night unfurled
may your wand of wonder be fully twirled

spellbind all silent slumber
’til all dreams are dreamed this night
’til pure hearts are lifted light
‘til joy has made sorrow take flight

let love rule the dawning day
let new hope awaken strong
let peace be ‘morrow’s waking song
let peace bless us this day long

*
rob kistner © 2019

More poetry at:dVerse

 


Bordeaux Chapeau


 

Yo — sit back shut up and don’t be rude
I’m gonna tell you ‘bout a bad-ass dude

he rolls with a finger-snap jazz-jive strut
don’t mess with him ’cause you might get cut

he wears silken, french-cuffed, ivory shirts
they are soft as butter-sweet cream desserts

got diamond cufflinks of pure white gold
he’s fashion treasure – precious and bold

pearl stick-pinned, satin tie — knotted tight
lookin’ like Paris on a Saturday night

desert-tan gabardine three-pleat slacks
euro-cuffed, steam creased — sharp as tacks

soft snakeskin braces buttoned sterling bright
hip — and killer as a rattlesnake’s bite

black-patton striders with real ‘gator spats
he’s steppin’ classy as the coolest cats

red pinstriped linen coat double-breasted
pure uptown savvy — teal velvet vested

sportin’ a full-blocked, rolled-brim, felt chapeau
in the deepest red of a fine Bordeaux

he loves Pearly with the real fine hat
and she don’t need wear much more than that

he’s crisp and smooth as a dry martini
best call him SIR — friends call him Ziggy

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*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at:dVerse