Whose lips in rain stir joy anew?
…kissing you
will footsteps in raindrops start hearts talking?
…storm walking
is pure fallen rain soulfully invigorating?
…stimulating
no time for procrastinating
we are here face to face
wrapped in the storm’s embrace
kissing you after storm walking, so stimulating
Original digital realistic art:
“Love Storm” by: rob kistner © 8/10/23
*
rob kistner © 7/24/23
Poetry at: dVerse
Hidden from the light of day
here your other self resides
though keeping to the shadows
you know your dark self abides
you feel him at times — don’t you
feel that his dark thoughts are true
a darkling essence
scarred and damaged
sometimes so strong
barely managed
begotten in another time
another life
rife with fear
with pain and strife
come from far away
from another place
but this dark entity
did wear your face
it is an anger
powerfully manifest
righteous
so long suppressed
that could not find effective voice
to save your ruined innocence
you had not the strength
not the choice
you were silenced
you had no name
for what you did not comprehend
you knew you must not shoulder blame
but you knew sorrow as a friend
now you realize
it was youthful trust
that was betrayed
in these ways
dark and insidious
sadly was this torment done
by the hand of an entrusted one
concealed from blind society
to inflict hurt and animosity
yet
why do we feel conflicted
why do we feel guilted
me
and you
the frightened child
that still dwells
in me
our dark self
we had to forge
in fire of dire adversity
hammered out a hardened soul
tempered by survival’s hand
by desperate necessity
look here
my other
look deep into our heart
and see
we rose and fought
that abject fear
cradled within our broken heart
lifted ourself from that veil of sorrow
clinging to peace of mind
to sanity
to see one more tomorrow
to embrace our courage one more day
to finally stand and say —
no more
no
more
so be quiet
no judgment soul
we finally emerged
and shed our shadow self
our young life tattered
but still in tact
the life he saved
in fact
these days
still drawn to darkness
my affairs with melancholia
am I hardened
when necessary
but I’m not stone
I’ve finally found love
not a life alone
when I look inside myself
I see beyond the shadows
I see a man
who better understands
we’ve shed the shadow’d shell
but this darker self
will always dwell
now that self’s
in our command
it no longer
has the upper hand
does this darkness
that coincides in me
cost us our dignity
it does not
I’ve a firm grasp
on our integrity
years ago
we closed the dark book’s pages
the storm no longer rages
so be quiet fickle soul
our dark self need not to be reviled
he saved us
and our wounded child
he fought to set us free
and saved our sanity
we owe gratitude
for his ferocious interlude
peace now
Original digital surrealistic art:
“The Armor Cracks” by: rob kistner © 8/8/23
*
rob kistner © 7/24/23
Poetry at: dVerse
Would we’d soar free
high above the trees
undulating far below us
the constant rolling seas
farewell worldly anguish
we sail to infinity
beyond far horizons
upward steadily
like Dorothy in Oz
suffering ends today
dreaming my love and I
‘midst sweet poppy’s sway
Original digital surrealistic art:
“Valley of Dreams” by: rob kistner © 8/7/23
*
rob kistner © 7/24/23
Poetry at: dVerse
Your essesnce unearthed in Corsica
off the western Italian coast
when it comes to sweet and zesty
you are by far the most
you crossed the mighty ocean
seeds in the pockets of Peter Pieri
then down a roaring river
to the land of columbia valley
loved for earthy sweetness
your round and jumbo size
so much were you cherished
you put tears of joy in their eyes
gently selected and coddled
harvested each year carefully
the Italian growers of the valley
knew what a treasure you could be
demand spread round the state
soon America knew of your fame
so important are you today
you carry the valley’s name
whether breaded deep fried or raw
you’re the gem of WA Blue Mts.
you’ve enjoy a century of ya ya
Walla Walla — ooo-la-la
Original digital art: “Valley of Gold”
by: rob kistner © 8/1/23
*
rob kistner © 7/24/23
Poetry at: dVerse
The afterimage of your beauty
ever emblazoned in my mind
a mind full of desire and regret
as it’s nearing our leaving time
time I pray will please slow down
as this moment has captured my heart
I feel my heart keep perfect time
paced by scientific wonder
I wonder will this magic last
been wonderful since coming west
the western sun flashes off the sea
sparkling in your seductive eyes
my eyes sun-blind to what lay ahead
the afterimage of love soon dead
Original digital art: “Love’s Sunset”
by: rob kistner © 7/29/23
*
rob kistner © 7/24/23
Poetry at: dVerse
S omewhere
between the creole shadow
of Basin Street 2nd line juju
and the hell-raised echo
of the hollered anguish
of Beal Street’s blues
in a phantom sanctum
on the creaked-wood
beer-stained slat floor
of a temple of brown whisky
and steel-lance escape
at the down and desperate
sorrowing hour of 3:00 am
they were all there together
crowded into my aching brain
to forget
when heaven cracked open a door
as the tears of loss fell
and hurtin’ broke souls moaned
a melancholy dream
smiled upon the players
those with the gift of music
and upon those
come just to huddle
in the smoky haze
and sour-sweet darkness
of human need and frailty
as the band played on
devils danced with angels
till dawn
and the demon-fire paused
for a raw
glorious night
as lady blues
sang of release
n’mornin’ light
Original digital watercolor:
“Practice” by: rob kistner © 7/27/23
*
rob kistner © 7/27/23
Poetry at: dVerse
* NEXT: 2023 Grammy Award Winning “Song Of The Year”
I dedicate this to the memory of my son Aaron Robert Kistner
Evaporating
misting skyward
engorging the clouds
raining
penetrating thirsty earth
or joining a river
a lake
perhaps the ocean
persistent
seeking its natural way
breaking any futile bounds
returning always
to repeat its origin cycle
this is ever the will
and way of water
*
rob kistner © 7/24/23
Poetry at: dVerse
Here I trod this old stone road
observing the evidence of last night’s rain
gorging this oft’ dry viaduct
some nestled in these path-side ruts
resting before their homeward journey
when they’ll rejoin their rightful place
as part of earth’s life-giving waters
returning as part of the restorative cycle
evaporating — misting skyward
penetrating the thirsty earth
or running off to join a river or stream
they are tenacious, persistent
always seeking their natural way
they’ll break beyond these futile bounds
returning to their origin – the azure sea
these are ever the wiles and ways of water
*
rob kistner © 7/11/23
Poetry at: dVerse
F or many, beautiful of body, the unrest and vigilance of maintaining it is endless. Stopping is no option, for beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror. Always the fear of losing it, and the advantages of it, can often enslave the beautiful, in a consuming maintenance regimen.
Also the envy-fueled mistrust projected by others, can beget debilitating personal uncertainty, the fear of being seen as superficial. A possibility even worse, the imposter syndrome. In light of this scrutiny, feeling like a fraud, insecure about giving and receiving love, or the related underlying motivation.
Beauty brings advantage, but also elevated attention, stealing the safety of anonymity. Everything begins being measured and analyzed, including by the one possessing the beauty. Beauty can ignite the terror of feeling lost, lost in the uncertainty of one’s own life — genuinely terrifying. Therein lies the potential curse of beauty.
Poetry at: dVerse
F inally
the rain’s come
quenching parched summer
this invigorated evening
like a prodigal lover
I embrace the sweet petrichor
wafting intoxicatingly
into our open window
soothed
by the calming murmur
that rises and falls
in a spritely spatter
of freshening raindrops
breathed
‘cross our bedroom panes
a long-absent whisper
of coddling reassurance
lulls me gently
nudging me gracefully
towards the peace of sleep
oh
would that it be so
would that it be
but I churn unsettled
in the final rays
of a turbulent July sunset
holding unsteady
tossed by thoughts of you
thoughts of the struggle you face
that we face
I throw open the sash
searching the winds
fearful
that I am useless
rain on our window
a storm in my heart
perhaps someday again
a friendly wind
together ‘til then
“Together” by: rob kistner © 7/11/23
*
rob kistner © 7/11/23
Poetry at: dVerse
A stolen kiss in the night
by morning’s light
I was totally addicted
but not conflicted
this craving fire is sweet
I’m consumed by its heat
your kiss my addiction
I seek not to recover
come kiss me again
twelve steps be damned — lover
*
rob kistner © 7/11/23
Poetry at: dVerse
Did you plan to ride with me to the coast
if so, we will be leaving at first light
the need to be on time is uppermost
I want to be there settled in tonight
not like last year when sadly I was late
seems much drinking occurred the night before
too late to bed had sadly doomed my fate
the ship sailed as I watched it from my door
but this year’s cruise should prove to be a blast
crazy friends, drinks, food of every kind
these soirees have been epic in the past
if we are late we will be left behind
tomorrow, it is breakfast on the beach
it’s there we meet our hostess for the week
she’ll have the masks we’ll need — there’s one for each
remember, after that we do not speak
yacht of wonder, where splendid games are played
magic – this high seas silent masquerade
*
rob kistner © 2023
Poetry at: dVerse
Rave On John Donne
by: Sir George Ivan Morrison
Rave on John Donne, rave on thy Holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools
Rave on, down through the industrial revolution
Empiricism, atomic and nuclear age
Rave on down through time and space down through the corridors
Rave on words on printed page
Rave on, you left us infinity
And well pressed pages torn to fade
Drive on with wild abandon
Uptempo, frenzied heels
Rave on, Walt Whitman, nose down in wet grass
Rave on fill the senses
On nature’s bright green shady path
Rave on Omar Khayyam, Rave on Kahlil Gibran
Oh, what sweet wine we drinketh
The celebration will be held
We will partake the wine and break the Holy bread
Rave on let a man come out of Ireland
Rave on on Mr. Yeats
Rave on down through the Holy Rosey Cross
Rave on down through theosophy, and the Golden Dawn
Rave on through the writing of A Vision
Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on
Rave on John Donne, rave on thy Holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools
Rave on, down though the industrial revolution
Empiricism, atomic and nuclear age
Rave on words on printed page
Rave on, rave on, rave on, rave on, rave on, rave on, rave on
Rave on, John Donne
Yes — I was the walrus
so too the fool on the hill
I was the nowhere man
sometime I feel nowhere still
but when the Fab4 took the stage
and raised their voice in song
they roused my golden slumber
my spirit sang along
I strolled to strawberry fields
along sweet penny lane
and when miss Rigby died
I felt McKenzie’s pain
stowed in the submarine
and sailed beneath the waves
down with the octopus
among the coral caves
and when the sergeant
struck up his lonely hearts club band
I fell in step by step
to march off to Pepperland
but before I’d hit the road
I ended up wounded in my bed
a delinquent name of Maxwell
took a hammer to my head
he’d come through the bathroom window
I forgot to shut it tight
I should have known better
but it’d been a hard day’s night
my friends had called for help
doctor Robert came in time
I’d said doc don’t let down
he did not — and I feel fine
cops searched helter skelter
looked here there and everywhere
but they found clues for no one
I said let it be I didn’t care
leaving home, you won’t see me
I said heading out the door
when I saw her standing there
my lover from the night before
oh darling let’s go day trippin’
I want to hold your hand
down this long and winding road
it won’t be long to Pepperland
now we’ve come together here
me and my sweet belle Michelle
she’s been writing paperback novels
the kind the drugstores sell
we have no plans to get back
we’re swept up in the allure
of Lucy and her diamond skies
on our magical mystery tour
even with George and Johnny dead
that old magic’s not yet slipped away
because old Paully‘s discovered AI
so a brand new tune is on the way
it will be so very cool
to hear them once again
to remember those wondrous days
get to relive them now and then
*
rob kistner © 4/5/11
expanded version: rob kistner © 6/13/23
Poetry at: dVerse
https://youtu.be/oz3JlMhgfq0
keys at top & bottom — AI extrapolations of original digital art by: rob kistner © 2023
This is the sorrowing hour
night’s full depth
alone now
present with my thoughts
my fears
my dreams
I’m sculpting words
into a key
to unlock my psyche
lay bare my soul
to intimately glimpse
who I’ve become today
here I find my sanity
*
rob kistner © 2023
Poetry at: dVerse
W e can seldom change a heart of iron into a heart of gold
no precious warmth should manifest from something hard and cold
a love that’s locked and set in cast is very hard to be set free
hope will likely struggle blind when our eyes of love can’t see
we cannot stop the hands of time from spinning ever on
when the sand is through the hourglass those days are ever gone
we usually can’t bring summer back when the leaves are off the tree
but perhaps with a strange magic spell — or maybe true love’s alchemy
*
rob kistner © 2023
Poetry at: dVerse