Greyest Grief

 


Original DDE™ surreal art: “October Moon” by: rob kistner © 10/7/23
 

In a shroud of darkness october wanes
sorrow celebrates the vanishing light
winter smothers autumn’s last refrains
once brightest day now bleakest night

greyest grief stirs in the advancing cold
ghostly mists steal color from our sight
on such a night lost souls are sold
frozen hearts barren as the blight

while slowly rolling in a chromium fog
hawk moon hangs heavy in this black sky
this place forbidding as a sucking bog
this is the hour for dreams to die


Original DDE™ surreal art: “Cave of Lost Souls”
by: rob kistner © 10/7/23

*
rob kistner © 10/6/2020
October Poems at: Poets & Storytellers

 

48 thoughts on “Greyest Grief”

  1. I really love this! How the first and final stanzas connect is great with that revolving idea of death through dreams and the night as symbolism. Clever.

    The word-flow is excellent, and as always with your poetry, it’s incredibly descriptive with attention to the imageries you create or combine. Fantastic work!

    1. Thank you so much Lucy… 🙂 you are most kind. I am pleased you like my work. It took me 56 years of writing lyrics and poetry to get here — and I am still not satisfied.

  2. This is the greyish of grief specially with this part:

    such a night forlorn lost souls are sold
    frozen hearts as barren as the blight

  3. I was looking forward to reading your response, Rob, as I thought you would be well-attuned to the ballad form, and you didn’t disappoint. ‘winter smothers autumn’s last refrains
    once brightest day now bleakest night’
    Sorrowful indeed, but hauntingly beautiful. I love the ‘chromium fog’ and the ‘hawk moon’ as well!

    1. Appreciate your kindness and how you react to my writing it is a compliment that I don’t take lightly I don’t know how many years I have left to right and I don’t know if I will ever get all the poems that I’ve written over the last 50+ years in the lyrics gathered in a way that makes sense if there’s a few of them on this website but I had this dream that somehow I will get them into an organized sense and leave them to my son and my grandson whether or not they will want them well who knows but I want to organize them and leave them for my loved ones. It’s getting much harder for me to write the arthritis in my fingers has gotten extreme my eyesight is failing me too quickly right now to make these comments and I do like to read my fellow poets and make comments but it’s difficultDifficult for me to write I’m having to speak my comments and have them transcribe the typing by Siri so she misses words and things aren’t always right but at least I’m able to stay in the game I’ve rambled on here I’m sorry I definitely appreciate your kindness and your support thank you enjoy your work as well definitely one of my favorite stops it when I get to read your bases again thank you I’m good.

  4. Some wonderful phases in your ballad, Rob, I particularly love the threatening tones of ‘winter smothers autumn’s last refrains’ and ‘forbidding as a sucking bog’. Yes, the end of autumn is indeed ‘the hour for dreams to die’.

    1. Well Lucy said she wanted to dark so I got dark. I actually like to write dark it’s the soothing cathartic. I’m actually an easy-going person quick to smile, like to be a little goofy, like yo gind find a good clever remark — but the reading and writing darker work interest me. I don’t know what that means, but thank you for your kind words Kim, and I enjoy your work as well.

  5. you certainly did dark grief justice Rob, well composed! Your vivid imagery takes us there …

    Sorry to read above that you have health ailments obstructing your creativity but you get there, thank you!

    1. The challenges don’t affect my life memories too much, nor my imagination seemingly at all — so my creativity still churns. As long as my muse keeps visiting, I am a happy man Kate! 🙂

  6. This is my favorite place to stop, Rob. Your work is always top notch. So sorry you’re dealing with arthritis and eye problems. For me it’s my back and difficulty standing or walking for any distance at all. But, aren’t we fortunate we have this outlet, which gives us pleasure! By all means organize your poems. Your son and grandson will treasure them! You really are very gifted.

    1. We are extremely fortunate Bev, and I am so thankful for “Siri” on my Apple iPad. I also count at the top of my great fortune, that my (just-this-past-week-turned-7-years-old) grandson visits everyday. My son and daughter-in-law live on the second floor, so my Alex scampers down everyday to spend time with his PaPa and NaNa-Kath. My heart warms evertime I here his footsteps coming down the steps. He thinks we can’t hear him, so he quietly opens our door and goes BOOO! We always act surprised. He often brings down a little LEGO “sculpture” he has made for me and my wife. We have a self full, and we love them!

  7. “Greyest griefs” “chromium fog” – the shades you call forth go on in unmitigated darkness. Rob, you describe “the hour for dreams to die” too well for an insomniac like me.

  8. I love how you tied it together with the season, the cold and darkness and death of the dreams… depressive but really good.

  9. greyest grief stirs in the advancing cold
    ghostly mists steal color from our sight
    such a night forlorn lost souls are sold
    frozen hearts barren as the blight

    Love the tie-up to the season’s typical cold weather to the loss of vision on those in despair. Great wordcraft Rob!

    Hank

  10. I cannot be more effusive with praise than the fine poets who left comments before mine. Your words/lyrics hit particularly hard as my second husband who I never stopped loving, passed away on the 4th. Living on the opposite side of the US, his daughter kept me informed as he bravely battled esophageal cancer. For eight months. Shortly before he died he asked his daughter to dial my cell. I didn’t have it with me, however I now have a sweet voicemail to treasure forever. And life goes on.

  11. this place forbidding as a sucking bog
    this is the hour for dreams to die

    Sometimes we see the coming of Winter to be a turn for the worse for normal living. It may be true for the restrictive episodes that greet us from the carefree Autumn days. You picked it right Rob!

    Hank

  12. October is a trick month for sure – I tend to love it for its color and smell of earthiness and I love its coolness (I don’t like weather that is too hot). Your poem is heavy – and there is that side of it too. The sounds and rhythm of your poem is beautiful. I read your eyesight is getting bad as is your ablity to write. Aging isn’t fun – I hopy you get your poems orgainzied – I know I would find it a wonderful gift if I had a parent or grandparent do that. I treasure my grandmothers journals and papers from when she was a teacher in 1918!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *