The aged aged man
follows the echos
of the three voices
a strange wild song
that leads him to
the four riddles
of darkness
suspended
in the blackness
above
the sea of dirge
in the deepening canyon
of solitude and secrets
he calls to you
to follow
to join him
in the silence
to listen
will you?
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at:dVerse
Spy’d through my mind’s looking glass
a fantasy realm where I must go
shall not another moment pass
it’s long been my dream — now alas
all plans are made to make it so
like in a boat beneath a sunny sky
excitement warms my voyager’s heart
soon through the clouds I’ll soar on high
with wings of wonder I will fly
the waiting’s over — I now depart
fantastic is this spell I’m under
magic of a splendorous kind
a world of cornucopic wonder
treasure troves of dreams to plunder
in this voyage of my mind
in my fancy’s elaboration
through stars of wonder I ascend
soar in sweet hallucination
in ships of my imagination
oh, would this voyage but never end
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at:dVerse
T these victimized girls
his ego’s validation
eve
his special prize
he danced her
incessantly
reaching to her again
she trembled
but went to toe
suddenly
laughing into the air
she stabbed his heart
crazed
eyes aflame
she danced
danced
and danced
wildly
unshackled —
free!
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at:dVerse
https://youtu.be/iaxddKjtAG0
https://youtu.be/aclyuqS1MmA
This day begins briskly sunny
an osprey echoes our sunrise lake
we chat by morning’s window
with tea and curiosity
thoughts spill
into each other
as your soft coral lips
sculpt words
I’ve drifted
my love’s ignited
as sun
fires your gentle green eyes
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at:dVerse
~ jus’ lil’ mo’ Maya — jus’ b’cause ~
The dream broke
like a prodigal sun
on a startled spring evening
causing him to squint
blinking away happiness
like sand
in the eyes of love
you were there
on the shores of sadness
you broke the news
you took his keys
you took your leave
then you took his shoes
you took him for a fool
it wasn’t you didn’t want him
you said
you simply saw yourself
in a different movie
with a different ending
no broken hearts
at least
not yours
in love’s roulette
and the stranded man
in the leather chair
had my face
had no expectations
made no demands
held you responsible
for nothing
and you left the table
cashed in your winnings
climbed the winding stairs
silk purse in hand
his heart was in your pocket
to place it at midnight
on your balcony sill
to watch it wither
in the moonlight
he had no need for it
nor most certainly
did you
as the night lark sang
a silver tear
had fallen hard
from his sullen cheek
which you collected
in a sterling box
and tossed into the sea
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
~ If ya’ gotta lil’ mo’ time, here’s a lil’ mo’ Tom. Yessa’ if ya’ ain’t lates, here’s ‘nother taste — a full snifta’ o’ Mista’ Waits. ~
This is about fools and heroes, and the frail human plight. It’s about failed ecology, and worldwide plague. It’s about love, hate, death, and brash 2nd lines. About MUSIC, murder, mayhem, and ego’s absurdity. Oh yeah – and it’s about Mardi Gras, n’ever-thing in b’tween!
Do you
see the salt-tears
stain d’brass horn’s bell
feel the hit-bottom bass
of the fine wooden upright
weep with the wound strings
of a hollow-body gibson
ache to d’blues-bent reed
of a lush broke-heart sax
throb with the rhythm
of the skin-taut drum’s roll
I am the blues band
and too the jazz band
also the 2nd line
of celebration and sorrow
I play at the light’s edge
that pools in the night
in a joint on the bleak streets
of the sad brokenhearted
I play to the anguish
of the loveless who cower
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten
I play to the grief
of the sinners who moan
alone in their heartbreak
in the ruins of love
I play to the ignorance
that fosters indifference
unleashing the pollution
consuming the planet
I play to the horror
that encircles our world
flogged raw by despair
in the shadow of plague
I play to the terror
of all asshole demagogues
harboring sad wet dreams
of being someone’s fool god
I am a blister-hot pistol
on the barroom slat-floor
in a puddle’a justice
that taught a jackass to cry
I am the angel of miz’ry
that falls you flat down
wail’n ‘round midnight
hard pray’n t’die
I am a broke piano
in a dead — drunk-bar
squaller’d in shambles
sheddin’ no’mo tears
I am the dark cadence
movin’ through the streets
in sad slow progression
carryin’ the dead
I am mardi gras mornin’
I come’a roarin’on up
in a bourbon st. stumble
play’n all the night
I am wild tchoupitoulas
from the 13th ward
blood shiffa-hoona
I won’t be barred
I am a walk through fire
a swim through mud
stole feathers from an eagle
a drink’a panther’s blood
I am a gallery of corpse tears
hung bold in deep memory
for those who survived
to feel the departed’s sorrrow
I am the rattle of glasses
on shelves back ‘o d’bar
when the band’s riffin’ hard
on a packed Friday night
I am the madman
sometimes d’sideman
in d’dark beautiful chaos
and joy’s tearful sky
I am the tambourine’s jangle
in a sweet delicate hand
in a hard poundin’ bar
on a stage reekin’ o’weed
I am the music and anguish
pour ‘em into m’soul
‘til I’m only the both
so to wring your pain dry
are ya’ blind
do ya’ see
are ya’ deaf
do ya’ hear
I am jazz
I am blues
I am a lone angel cryin’
in a dearth funeral dirge
I am — all that fuckin’ music
playin’ out loud
play’d for all us dyin’
in earth’s terminal purge
“All That Jazz” from: Guilbeaux Gallery
*
rob kistner © 2022
aka: lawrence tieke
Poetry at: dVerse
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
Hello wind
welcome
have you come
to help with laundry
you feel briskly spring today
yet warm and silky
spilling in between
my things
you slip so satiny
shy and silent
slyly sensuous
round my shoulders
your rays of buttery sun
warm and sweet
golden on my neck
satisfying as a summer breeze
oh willful wind
I must say
as you waft and tumble
you tantalize
floating and swooping
in sweet refresh
handling my things
with such care
as I hang each piece
you dance gently
up my arms
rustle my dress
playfully
you brush my cheek
you swirl ‘round me
at times firmly insistent
rocking me
then teasingly soft
your whispered rushes
fluttered breaths
feel like a lover’s tendings
affectionate strokes
that caress my skin
lilting tender
you’re a soothing breath
as your zephyr’d fingers
toss my hair
oh wind
so frisky
have you come
only to help with laundry
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at:dVerse
First of March in the Pacific Northwest, finds wild nature in a period of recovery and renewal. Nature’s flowering plants, grasses, and brush, are blessed by the nurturing rains that have fallen, and will continue in this new year. Mighty evergreens are paused, and deciduous trees are at the end of their dormancy. Our vast forests, rejuvenated by this waning period of rest, sense Spring at the horizon, when the skies will open further, and the temperature begins its rise.
Streams begin to come to new life as the snowpacks, high in the frozen cold of the Cascade Mountains, begin their thaw. Rains help to invigorate this life giving flow. This high mountain water is a key source to bring forth the Pacific Northwest’s bounty, from the rich Willamette Valley in Oregon, to the Skagit Valley in northern Washington. Also, Rainbow, Brook, German Brown, and Cutthroat Trout grow active as waters rise and cool as snowmelt blends. Bear, deer, cougar, elk, coyote, big horn sheep, pronghorn antelope, hawk, osprey, eagle; all the varied, plentiful wildlife of our region have begun to wrap their winter rituals. Life in the PacNW wilderness, is stirring.
The opening of our winter’s March nears the end of a peaceful time of rest, before the vigorous pace of restoration begins here in this breathtakingly beautiful region. Spring debuts in March, as does the beginning of Daylight Savings Time. A regenerative calm lies upon the lush land, as nature holds its breath. The season of sky-water, still upon us, has done its masterful best to quench nature’s early thirst, and revivify her energies in this utopia. The fruit, berry, and flower buds soon will burst, and paradise will again take center stage, to begin the glory days of Pacific Northwest Spring. Rains end, the sun comes!
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at:dVerse
Here
in the dream level
most like drowning
the id holds court
our darkest secrets
play out
in the false light
of veiled memory
recollections of fantasies
intersect our nightmares
drawing us
onto the plane of shadows
through the lair of the lost
into the realm
of the almost familiar
where everything lives
at the edge of clarity
unmade promises
teeter precariously
on the tips
of rigor’d tongues
and hearts break
under weight
of unexpressed love
a sorrow
impossible as
breathing underwater
it is here
I forsook forever
that which
I never found
forgiveness
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
As soft I knelt, bright shone the sun
though winter held, warmth had begun
my frozen heart began to melt
this breaking dawn saw my tears run
a renewed love, is what I felt
bright shone the sun, as soft I knelt
a quiet song, my heart did sing
fresh trust unleashed a new wellspring
this truly was a brand new dawn
love felt again a precious thing
was then I knew love would go on
my heart did sing, a quiet song
*
rob kistner © 2022
More poetry at:dVerse
More poetry at:earthweal
More poetry at:poets & storytellers
Bitter
the salt of lies
that proselytize
false reality
I see truth
bloodied
bound and blinded
stumbling as a wraith
conflicted sides
shackled
to fear’s cold stone
bound
by the rough rope
of disinformation
battle’s here
we must fight
smite deceit
blaze truth’s light
*
rob kistner © 2022
NOTE: Yesterday, 2/21/22 De, from dVerse Poets asked that we include the word salt, or a derivative, in a poem.
NOTE: Today, 2/22/22 Lillian, from dVerse Poets asked that we include the adage here to which this poem responds: “The truth shall set you free.” John 8:32
Adage inspired poetry at: dVerse
American Jazz pianist and composer Thelonious Monk
I am jazz
I am blues
I am the 88 ivories
of beauty and sorrow
I play at the light’s edge
that pools in the night
in a joint on the bleak streets
of the sad brokenhearted
I play to the anguish
of the loveless who cower
in the dark nightmare alleys
of the lost and forgotten
I play to the grief
of the sinners who moan
alone in their heartbreak
in the ruins of love
I play to the horror
that encircles the planet
flogged raw by despair
in the shadow of plague
I play to the celebration
when the impossible falls
to the bold who succeeded
striving against odds & logic
I am the madman
sometimes the sideman
in the dark beautiful chaos
and in joy’s blue sky
I am jazz
I am blues
I am — that music
cool as a bone
playin’ it hot
hurtin’ alone
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
Poetry at: earthweal
Successful as a younger man
the grind became my home
and I
a conduit of worry
could I keep the crazy pace
years spun wild as a top
around faster
ever faster
life layering its patina
etched deeply in my face
suddenly no longer young
now looking back from 75
ever grateful to be alive
I’ve known triumph
I’ve known tragedy
they’ve marked me deeply
but not the same
I’ve begged
borrowed
bought
and stole
strayed through several shades of grey
I have leveraged my eternal soul
just to play this fleeting game
I pray
I will not end an old man
gazing lonely out my window
trying hard
just to remember
exactly how long it has rained
not sitting silent
by the fire
lost in somber contemplation
wondering if all I lost
was worth the cost
of what it was I gained
so
if I am not he
then
who am I
I am my memories
that huddle ’round me
soft and gentle
some dim
some vivid
through all my days
and all my nights
memories
from quite near
and far into the past
drift forward
mingled rich
through the years
their embrace
is soothing
warm as the sun
memories of others
I’ve been blessed to love
a tender tear
for every one
the places
I have been
the wonders
these hazel eyes have seen
the joys
that painted me
so brightly
the sorrows
that taught me
the depth of life
in these memories
there is a sweetness
it holds my heart
tempered
by the touch of regret
that at times
bowed this silvered head
my heart is full
my spirit calm
a peaceful surrender
to fate’s embrace
in this moment
no tears to shed
I embrace instead
that precious
unfurled strand
from there to here
from then to now
would that these memories
never end
would that they all
begin again
but soon
the flames of recall
will falter
as the lingering embers die
no longer need for worry
no more reason to wonder why
it’s then
I’m prayer
when I am called
among the memories
when time
reaches out for me
would that I be
delivered off in peace
carried away in sleep
forever
would that I keep
all it is
I am
I am my memories
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
He has kept it locked for so long
the horror of that night
holds the seal tight
the memory riveted
securely barring entry
none can pass
his bitter resolve
makes certain none will try
this is a dark forbidden place
high-walled
cold and barren
unyielding
lifeless
a wasteland of the lost
inhabited by the dead
the gate grown over
by a tangle of grief and anger
any memory
of a once vital presence
of a living breath
of warmth
of joy
forever gone
brutal night has fallen long ago
that no sun can penetrate
the blackness soothes him
he retreats into its depths
embraces its lightless void
hiding
sulking
shielded from any possibility
of further pain or remorse
he is unfeeling
safely lifeless
but see
a shadow
falls across the threshold
someone approaches
a comely being
warm and alive
lays gentle siege
threatening to breach
his hardened fortress
but
this lovely creature
fair and fragile
can not possibly gain entrance
must not
he will resist
he must
this is wrong
this is trespass
this is cruel betrayal
of his lost beloved
he has no right
to leave this place of sorrow
to step into the light
no right
he will lock the memory tight
the key he will not surrender
he is a man of broken dreams
the key protects his broken heart
he will not succumb
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
~ never break the heart of a clown ~
“Gaze upon me
if you will
my countenance crafted
to fool
and thrill
I’ve spent years in greasepaint
fear
and sorrow
I rued the past
I dreaded tomorrow”
they call me smilin’ bob
it wasn’t intentional
you see
I only wanted her to
hear me
to know my heart
but her laughter
her hollow
taunting laughter
her mindless laughter
wouldn’t stop
it wouldn’t stop
and I needed her to hear me
to understand how I felt
but the laughing
and laughing
the incessant laughing
I simply couldn’t have the laughing
so I made it stop
now I hide behind this painted smile
now everyone is laughing
and laughing
laughing
laughing
until they ‘re not
I’ll spend my years in greasepaint
but no more fear
no regret
I shed not a tear
still hate the laughter
but no more sorrow
I rue not the past
don’t dread tomorrow
so gaze upon me
if you will
my countenance crafted
to fool
and thrill
and when you’re alone
away from the laughing din
smilin’ bob makes certain
you’ll not laugh again
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
NOTE: These first 3 songs represent Smilin’ Bob’s decent from the impact of the laughter, which begins his frustration, down through his madness, finally to his deadly paranoia. The 4th song represents the death of his soul, that put him in his darkness.