Z apfino’s heart is broken
helvetica is why
helv turned zap down
made poor zap cry
zap liked helv a lot
took a shot
tested fate
asked for a date
helv declined
“no way
you’re too much flashy hype
sorry zap
you’re not my type”
*
rob kistner © 2022
More prosery at: dVerse
~ videos have nothing to do with this poem — just thought they were fascinating ~
Blind rev’ran
plays the blues
he is legend
his tales of pain
of injustice
the lore of the big muddy
his eyes
earthy brown
turbulent as that river
his truth
a deep current
impossible to escape
his knowing voice
a tempered edge
honed by blues
seasoned
by a kind heart
broadleaf husky
thick as sorghum
smoooooth
as beale street bourbon
the cf martin
swings from a leathered neck
on a tattered strap
stretched and shaped
by the heft of sorrow
poured into the soundhole
marked and scarred
by years of burden
of witness
its character and patina
bear testament
to a genuine soul
from his fingerboard
roll chords of loss
under resonant notes
of struggle
a rhythmic stomp
meters stinging verse
bittersweet memories
of broken promise
failed love
of dirt field
cruel street
back alley
of harsh wisdom
they reverberate
to fill the air
to break my heart
to steal my soul
to make innocence
wanna dance
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: Sunday Muse
My Gypsy Michal is Michal Elia Kamal — watch her perform below… Wow!
Gypsy michal plays percussion
michal loves to sing and play percussion
when michal lays hands to djembe hide
women have wept — grown men have cried
there is such fire in michal’s stroke
she turns their longing heart to smoke
when the djembe thunders and michal belts
imaginations swoon — heart strings melt
her body twists like a cobra snake
she stirs your passions wide awake
gypsy michal plays hot percussion
stone cold truth — ain’t no discussion
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at: Sunday Muse
I love this performance, and it’s a street busk, makes it even cooler — just AMAZING!
Man, you wanna talk about soul — WOW! Absolutely transcendent.
🙂
R elentless din of crawling prowling night
pours steaming through my window
midnight intrudes damp and searing
insistent
scalded air too hot and thick to breathe
the full moon — sweats
a heat to suffocate
blades beat and drone overhead
promising relief
in vain
sweltered darkness lays heavy upon me
unbearable
I toss in labored half-sleep
gasping for cool relief
restless
I inhale deep to fill my lungs
seeking satisfying breath
only to bake them in cruel heat
no relief
salted droplets trace my spine
baste my neck
pool in the hollow of my fevered chest
bloom and seep
from beneath the smother
of matted soak atop my head
to weep their way ‘cross smoldering brow
into my eyes
and sting
in this nocturnal furnace
night clings and stifles
even dreams are scorched
simmering in August
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry’s sweltering at: dVerse
Hey junebug
why so loud
why so impertinent
what’s with all this buzzing chatter
you’re bump and thump and all a’clatter
worrying with the frontporch light
steaming on this august night
such racket over a minor matter
while here below you
my heart breaks in silence
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry’s sweltering at: dVerse
in the velvet grip
of sweating conquest
ripe with release
coursing with hunger
for the tender flesh
of reckless youth
white hot
as a deflowered bride
burning with the lust
of an august first-night
impaled on the horn
of promise and desire
there will be no truth
in these minglings
only raw bleeding need
and the quenchless thirst
for bittersweet
forbidden nectar
so when you hear
the whispers whispered
know that it was so
and so it will remain
in the lithe loins
of the skin slaves
aflame
behind the Paris red doors
*
rob kistner © 2021
August Poems at: dVerse
Still more poetry at: dVerse
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
There is a break in the tree line, behind my former home in Oregon, opening onto a secluded path, which winds up into the forested foothills of Mt Hood. I love to walk on moonlit nights, wandering up through the towering trees. About a half mile trek, along the trail, lit by moonlight, filtered dreamlike through the canopy, brings me to a hidden lake. It nestles captivatingly in a clearing, embraced by a stand of proud Ponderosa’s. Secreted loons eerily lodel. The absence of any light pollution, allows the night sky to explode brilliantly, full of stars.
I love to perch on the trunk of a downed cedar, fallen by the lake’s edge. I gaze up into the night sky, expanding out forever above me. The moon paints the intimate woodland dell in a soft sterling glow. It is a serene, almost sacred experience. And the stars, so many stars — billions and billions of stars, sparkling and spangling and glittering to eternity! It is absolutely breathtaking! And this spectacle is captured, in crystalline clarity, by the mirrored surface of the lake. Above me, below me, as far as I can see — star-clustered infinity. I’m transfixed in a dream, lost in time, mesmerized – adrift in the cosmos.
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry’s looking up at: dVerse
Yes — I have marveled at
golden fire clouds
hanging in pale green skies
over the azure seas of Toluras
I have seen the copper leaves
of the parmus fronds
flashing from indigo mountains
in the crystal mists of Gemin
I’ve heard the haunting call
of the coral winged Lellurt
in Droon’s violet skies
over teal Darpin Bay
I’ve watched the Atokirina
drift delicately down
from Pandora’s tree of souls
to dance in a Na’vi’s gentle hands
~ Image from the movie Avatar ~
I have beheld exquisite beauty
in the journey of my rich, full life
but none quite so beautiful
as your opalblue eyes — in moonlight
the weight of time and loss
wear upon my traveler’s heart
and here — another searing night
of unbearable pain — missing you so
in this moment I want just one more time
to hear your gentle whisper — my love
I would give the world and my soul
to hear my name upon your lips
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Dream with me my love
love is the magic we will seek
seek it until the end of days
days numbering to eternity
eternity — where love’s magic hides
hides in the folds of the lotus
lotus lifted on gossamer wings
wings of purest beauty and truth
truth — the key to perfect surrender
surrender is the secret of love’s dream
dream that goes on forever
*
rob kistner © 2022
More loop poetry at: dVerse
There are days I still can feel
the breeze of youth gently stir my soul
days remembered of grace and lightness
when faith in truth sparked splendid dreams
those days of you
you and me
when all we touched was fresh and new
and the world was full of wonder
when we were certain we’d live forever
our strength made each day a great adventure
those carefree days
days we pledged one to the other
as we dreamed dreams of a magical life
full of promise and wonder
of golden tomorrows
that would flourish and rise
rise in spectral beauty
brightly gleaming
brilliant through sweet years
of accomplishment
of joy
but not now
now I’ve grown unyielding
rigidly braced
against the winds of time and fate
my soul rooted in life’s demands
demands and darkling demons
that find me searching
for life’s blessings
cursing its burdens
these brittle days
days bent by the yoke of worry
heavy with the weight of loss
haunted by the ghost of memory
the lonely days when I think of you
these days of emptiness
emptiness so great
that I know not
how this void can ever be filled
when those so rich in grace
have departed
departed too
such wit and wisdom
such honest kindness
so much pure love
has now been lost
lost forever
to the void
ones who understood the need for giving
in a careless world darkened by greed
tender hearts
truly unselfish
unselfish and all embracing
whose warmth was ever present
my aching heart questions how
how can this void be filled
when such brilliant light
has been extinguished
extinguished
but not forgotten
because I will not forget
I will remember you
all of you
and all those days
days of joy and love
that’s how I will
fill this void
with the seeds of friendship
you planted deep inside my heart
now filled with memories
memories that will nurture
that will make these seeds grow
make me gentler
and me — the world to make better
better for your having been
good-bye my friends
you all are in my heart
now as ever
ever will I tend these seeds
and think of you
for the love goes on and on
I will not forget
not ever
*
rob kistner © 2022
More loop poetry at: dVerse
C racked and seasoned hands
reach with suffered care
to wrap the fingerboard
in love
callused digits
yellowed by habit
depress taut strings
blood and bone
connect
sculpting emotions
true life
from sitka spruce
and spiraled steel
knowing strains rise
Memphis Red
is
the blues
*
rob kistner © 2022
More prosery at: dVerse
~ SPOKEN WORD: Listen here to me tellin’ ya mo’bout bluesman, Memphis Red. ~
~ BELOW: Eric Gales sangin’ & professin’ some red hot Memphis blues! ~
Across the chasm of time
and great distance
memories unfold
vividly rich
like elaborate origami sculptures
fragile as the paper of an old map
opened and reopened a 1000 times
they are creased deeply
with sepia memories
heading east
cresting the great divide
beginning the decent
into the past
through these soaring ramparts
of sky-piercing mountains
I envision what lies ahead
forests
tier upon tier
of enormous sitka spruce
of scattered brewers
known as the weeping spruce
the most beautiful of the conifer
my mother loved them
whose branches in sunlight
following a summer rain
display raindrops
as a jeweler’s velvet
showcases diamonds
I hear the whispers
of wind-stirred
lawson cypress
towering ponderosa pine
and douglas fir
I inhale deeply
the tangerine-scented white fir
a heady fragrance
rivaled only
by the rough-tufted red cedar
the dogwood’s brilliant leaves
big-leaf maples
pendulous western maples
tight ranks of dark-green sadler oak
unfurl below me
still traveling my mind’s vistas
I see the golden shimmer
and I hear crisp crackle
of white-barked aspen
my father’s favorite tree
reminded him of Canada
his country of birth
these all still live and breath
in my younger-days heart
calling me forward
down into the valley
and across the planes
of a childhood long ago
this morning’s sun
came crisp and bright
enfolding my waking
in warmth
and vivid presence
as the world awoke
fresh and fascinating
I embarked early
after eggs
juice
toast and jelly
the sweet and salty taste
lingering
of a homecoming
too long overdue
my soul is full
my mind is clear
my heart — overflowing
but my sprit is tentative
when dusk settles this evening
and early shadows
fall soft across my face
I will round Miller’s Corner
as it comes into view
worn
withered
but warm with recall
my wooden framed
childhood home
abandoned now to ghosts
specters of a youth
spent surrounded by love
by laughter
by learning
and by loss
one of the ghosts
in that old house
is my mother
who passed within its walls
on a summer day
not unlike today
as I sat sobbing
in my room
down the hall
my father kept me from her room
he feared the sickness that took her
might take me
so I never really
got to say goodbye to her
nor goodbye to the laughter
that died that day
nor goodbye to the smile
on my father’s face
for it was never seen again
it disappeared
as did my father
into deep debilitating depression
shortly after mother passed
I was moved away
to live with my aunt
in Oregon
today I will return
to say a long delayed goodbye
to my mother
and to lay my father to rest
in the cemetery
behind the dilapidated old church
where once they wed
he will at last
join with his dear wife
my sweet mother
the women he loved so
that his joy died with her
a cloud of sorrow
sweeps my mind
momentarily obscuring
my purpose and destination
then the fog wafts
and again I envision
across the veiled valley
of time and change
the hearth and home
of my birth
long faded
into yesteryear
now
sweet recall
and those distant memories
pull me onward
I am sad
but it’s a bittersweet sadness
tomorrow
my father
will again
be with my mother
ghosts
in our old house
as I return
I pray his smile
will at last return
he deserves to smile
my mother loved his smile
I love them both
down out of the mountains
into the twilight
of final goodbyes
I redouble my pace
the sweetest of tears
cloud my eyes
*
The poem is fiction, the love is not.
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
This song evokes memories of my father, who passed July 1983, at the age of 66.
Also of my son, who passed July 1985 is at the age of 18.
This is a poem of mine from 2008, published in the 2010 RWP Anthology. It incorporates 3 Lines from Norman Dubie’s “Of Politics & Art”. The borrowed lines are italicized.
Here
on the farthest point of the peninsula
an office building is burning
ignited by a single match
careless or criminal
not yet known
inconceivable
that such a structure
can be so wholly engulfed
but the fire was too fierce
and the distance too great
for rescue
but what of the fury
in that single first flame
to have leapt so viciously to consume
to ravage
to devastate so absolutely
it is always there
la nature du feu
like the rage of a repressed
and violated being
too long held down
unjustly deprived
confined
all potential denied
where there is great potential
spirit squelched
where there is great spirit
sometimes a whole civilization can be dying
until finally a single incident
the spark
unleashes a righteous inferno
that has no bounds
it is always there
la nature du feu
all around the good people gather
stare in disbelief
how is this possible here
out here on the peninsula
not realizing that such power to combust
to blaze so brilliantly
can only be suppressed for so long
it is always there
la nature du feu
ready to explode
like the fury in the head of that match
and when the smoulder becomes full flame
all will burn
out here on the peninsula
and in here
at the still and protected center
*
rob kistner © 2022
More prosery at: dVerse
more poetry at: earthweal
~ if the world does not learn, then it will surely burn ~
~ beautiful voice — beautiful woman — beautiful spirit ~
Ever folding in upon itself
in an infinite replication
as it expands to infinity
pattern upon pattern
in a complex unity
of cacophonic
harmony
of like form
differing layers
amorphous balance
in an eternal fracture
of evolving perfections
occurring simultaneously
on micro and macro planes
of mystery and comprehension
both appearing and disappearing
in the same linear moment of time
in this way
fractals mirror magic
and love
*
rob kistner © 2022
More prosery at: dVerse
More poems at: Poets & Storytellers
FIRST…
~ Dragon’s Tail ~ a fascinating brief 5-minute fractal journey
NEXT…
psychedelic mathematics
A mind-blowing 90 minute voyage into and through infinity?
* recommend you expand to full screen *
photo entitled: “routine” — by: Tres
He’d snap his shine cloth
tellin’ tales
of long ago
of joy
war
betrayal
pain
injustice
lost love
his Memphis “blues”
harsh wisdom
hard learned
his voice
sorrow tempered
laughter sweetened
broadleaf husky
smooth as Beale Street bourbon
warm eyes
turbulent as Big Muddy
inescapable deep currents
his weathered face
marked and scarred
by years of burden
of witness
he’d once held a woman’s heart
but she’d had it sliced away
leaving a scar
among scars
testaments
to his enduring soul
cracked and seasoned hands
wrap polished leather
in suffered care
callused fingers
yellowed by habit
roll the rhythm rag
pulling the shine
with sweat
spit
blood and bone
wiping away
broken promises
failed love
killing fields
cruel streets
back allies
the poppin’ slaps
resonate
in soulful cadence
lifting my worry
making my steps
feather light
a spit-shine supreme
like no other
will be again
*
rob kistner © 2022
More prosery at: dVerse
More poems at: Poets & Storytellers