Letter by letter, word by word, I reach out. From my fingertips
flow pure feelings. My memories alive, my spirit full, my heart pours forth with love for you.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It is honest emotion, wrapped raw, with all barriers down. Wrapped, longing for connection. It is this heart that beats in my chest, that beats for you my love, this Valentine’s Day — and every other.
Poetry at: dVerse
“Waiting for Better Days” by Matthias-Haker
Yes
I see you my love
and I know you
intimately
you have worn your life
with grace and dignity
and here you stand
in your regal
glorious
tatter
your wisdom and strength
laid bare
for all to see
and you have shown me
your true heart
so
oh yes
I see you
I see you my love
how can I not
you are beautiful
so very beautiful
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry at: dVerse
“Burning Love” — by Diggie Vitt
F og rolled ‘cross the lowlands
smothering damp and languid
chilled and dense with dread
ominous and threatening
twilight having receeded
moonlight labored hard
shouldering its way
through the thickening shroud
muffled deep within the gloom
a drone of disembodied voices
the moonlit fog glowed smokey silver
stirred and tumbled by the night wind
the blood-thick sterling fog breathed
wafting in then out of the forest
there could be seen in veiled glances
a frail effete enchanted presence
she held in her fragile hands
a bouquet of blazing flowers
a fire also burned within her eyes
deep and green as precious emerald
you’ve awoken the Earth Witch — I am Emeral
look upon this fire and destruction
and see just what it is
you’ve brought upon our beautiful garden earth
my coven protects the 4 elements
of earth air fire and water
they have called me forth in this moment
I have now come to end an evil goddess
the goddess of excess, ruin, and waste
the demon twisted goddess — Vintus
to strike fear in Emeral, Vintus rose above
the rough-hewn raw rock formation
that served as her earthen altar
came the goddess Vintus
lowered, standing upright
feet fixed upon her altar of death
her blood red demon cloak
gently flowed and billowed open
occasionally revealing the hideousness
it kept wrapped and sacredly contained
looking down at the Earth Witch Emeral
whose hands that held the blazing bouquet
also crackled fierce with amber lightening
for this was an element — air-fire
the witch spoke telling the goddess
I have come to end your evil ways Vintus
and reaching forward — surely and slowly
Emeral laid blazing hands upon the goddess
in a burst of righteous golden fire
the goddess’s lips began to twitch
she screamed a curse of blight upon Emeral
face ablaze, she fell to the earth — immolated
all those ’round Emeral, the Earth Witch
they bowed, exclaiming her as a goddess
then circled in a crazen coven’s dance
to exclaim in voices full and resonant
your reign begins now Emeral
you are now our goddess!
to which Emeral simply said —
NO…
the elements will now rule the earth
controlled by Gaia, the true Earth Goddess
and the people will show healthy respect
the age of misuse, abuse, plunder and pollution
IS NOW OVER — FOREVER
This is the season of the witch!
I, Emeral — the Earth Witch
and my dedicated earthen coven
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
From above this moonlit forest
midnight shimmers
on the mist-covered boughs
of old growth
as if diamonds are dancing
on the branches
deep and still
mirroring the moon
in the night sky
our high-mountain lake
glows like cerulean silk
this night holds a sacred silence
save for a great white owl
echoing from the cedars
across the water
we are lover and beloved
entwined
in the fragile pre-dawn
half awake
entranced by the spectacle
stretching before us
leaning on the dock rail
snuggling against me
head on my shoulder
in her quiet voice she says
in the spell
of this magical moon
I feel so full of love
smiling into her eyes
her face
bathed in the moonlight’s
white satin
I whisper softly
in this moment
here my love
with you
I feel I am the moon
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
Fair winds arise, soon fair spring will arrive
rain’s damp shadow held winter long this year
but now the skies above begin to clear
as shadows lift, my humor may survive
the seasons bow to greet this interlude
new seeds push eager sprouts through warming earth
all nature cycles to this time of birth
as if to hail my brightened attitude
bold buds pop forth through ripe and ready limb
songs of birds lilt sweetly through greening trees
fragrance of blooms wafts softly in the breeze
fresh waters push clear streams beyond their brim
all ’round the hues and sound of boisterous spring
shadows retreat, my heart begins to sing
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
W hen donned the mask
the transformation starts
when smoulders forth the other
fire and spark
so deep and dark
this fantasy on wings
of ardor’s dreams
she is your lovely
mistress le filou
she is she
yet she is too the other
fey deceiver
fiery lover
unleashed at light
of passion’s sterling moon
manifest at your request
sustained this night
at her delight
she is your freya
she too — your venus
this beauty is your deepest longing loosed
and you her jester
you her mindless lusting fool
she brings sweet things to life you sadly miss
bestowed with aphrodite’s molten kiss
but as you burn you likely should know this
beneath the mask awaits a strange abyss
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
WOW, This song by Santana & The Isley Bros is otherworldly sensual!
“Breakfast” by: Fernand Leger, 1921
A perfect pair
so round and warm
soft but firm
begging for a nibble
my desire piqued
my heartbeat quickens
I lick my lips
drool threatening to dribble
dreamed all night
how each luscious bite
undoubtably will please me
two breakfast eggs — over easy
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
Hope you will enjoy the Moody’s!
~ singin’ the ‘rona blues ~
Feral cats are runnin’ wild
while cops is breakin’ ‘eads
homeless driven to the sewer grates
my poor garden gnome is dead
world’s crazy’d up for krypto
ever’body’s gettin’ ‘rona
uber’s bringin’ beer n’pizza
scammers findin’ ways t’phone ya
take yer boots off pretty baby
from now on we stayin’ home
take off your boots of leather
we’re stayin’ home alone
right-handed axes bust up d’capitol
almost scared t’leave my room
tik tok’n stead’a talkin’
go’ta’office on m’zoom
mustard head defies subpoenas
fake news wines there was no coup
vote suppression played like tid’ly winx
what’sa thinkin’ dude t’do
take yer boots off pretty baby
from now on we stayin’ home
take off your boots of leather
we’re stayin’ home alone
we now plug in ‘stead’a fill up
while I truly think it’s great
gotta’ tell‘ya sometimes
I do miss my old V-8
this world’s really changed
be that way until I die
though it’s hard to grasp it all
understand me please — I try
take yer boots off pretty baby
from now on we stayin’ home
take off your boots of leather
we’re stayin’ home alone
~ hmmm ~
oh hell! — put yer shiny leather boots back on
and put that mask on your beautiful face
I’m gonna go crank up the tesla
gonna take a short road trip from this place
n’ I’m gonna contact amazon prime
get a new gnome for the garden space
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
Poetry at: earthweal
There are so many mysteries in life, so many constant minor miracles that hold all of life aloft, so very much that none of us comprehend and never can, as we go about acquiring that which is our meager portfolio of personal knowledge. Our finite essence deems that we are ignorant to the majority of life’s substructure and nuance — yet it all is woven into the fabric of existence, and without which there is no “is”.
We live this mad chaotic journey of life, most of the time at the peril of imminent personal annihilation, save for many upon many manifestations of good fortune, of pure luck — perhaps by a grander cosmic intuition. Yet we live with confidence, as we must, that all these myriad possibilities that surround us, will fall in our favor — and they do, until they don’t. And only fate determines when that card flips.
We all go to our ultimate conclusion, grasping what pitiful little bit of knowledge and understanding we have eked together during our flash of an existence. Yet all that is, was, and will be in all of time and space — happens, has happened, and will happen, so far removed from our awareness and comprehension, as to amount to nothing of consequence to our reality. Yet the reality of our existence, breath to breath, is totally dependent on these consequences playing out in our favor.
We are a dust molecule in this raging cosmic storm. We are nothing but insignificant — while we go along filled with the belief of our worth, and we feel its magnitude in the reality of the awareness that we touch and manifest, which in truth is immeasurably little in the grand scope. But within us, to our perception, it is everything — and rightly so, for it is all we have at our disposal.
This incredible, almost infinite dichotomy, has always held immense fascination for me. I have always wished, even if but for a moment, I could sync with an infinite mind — though I fear the impact of the overload on my psyche, would render me wholly insane. However, the fascination has persisted my entire life, and will I’m certain, until it can’t. This poem is my feeble endeavor to express some insight to this poetically.
Porrima
goddess of time
mistress of futures
lift me into the realm
of unfinished dreams
strip me of fear
of longing
of inhibition
render me transparent
weightless
unburdened of care
an untethered being
of pure moment
a vessel of time and space
ever-expanding consciousness
aware of all
not as separate
but as the is
the was
the to become
let me embrace
the strand continuum
time’s infanance
unfurled to the future
drawing it forward
reeling it back
in simultaneous linearity
uninterrupted
to touch what is not known
let me glimpse
what cannot be
but is forever
an epiphanal glance
at the beginning
of the endless
the infinite now
at the mystery of fate
the why
within the why
goddess
grant me but a waft
of this miracle
grant me time
time enough
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
~ and now for your listening and dancing pleasure ~
McClellan Peak, Cascade Mountains, reflected in Leprechaun Lake, Washington — by: Joshua Stern
Major Season (SEKKI): Cold Dew: October 08 – October 22
Early October welcomes the mini season of Cold Dew. This season runs from October 8 until October 22. During this time the nights are getting progressively colder and the days are getting shorter. Morning frost may occur, but it disappears with the sun.
Minor Season (Ko): Cascade Mountain Larches go golden: October 08 – October 12
Larches are a pot of gold in the fall hiking season; normally green, their golden yellow autumn needles turn a Cascade Mountain landscape into something otherworldly.
trout are plentiful
Atumn alchemy
the larche at mcclellun peak
turn to purest gold
*
rob kistner © 2022
SEASONAL BOUNTY: this is the season of vineyards and orchards, when wine flows from a wide variety of harvested grapes, and the crunch of freshly picked apples of many types seems to resonate in the air.
POET BIOGRAPHY: I am a poet of 51 years, obsessed with nature, intoxicated by the beauty of America’s Great Pacific Northwest — where I make my home. I am also an artist, selling my art. I am a singer and lyricist as well.
Here, in this moonlit forest, midnight’s snowfall shimmers softly through the boughs of old growth, deep and still, as if an infinity of star clusters has drifted to rest from the heavens. It blankets our high-mountain meadow in pearled crystal down.
This night falls quiet and crisp, as a great white owl echoes hauntingly through frosted cedar. Moonbeams sparkle off the snow-draped conifers, like diamonds — necklaced enticingly ‘round the supple shoulders of fair lithe ladies.
We linger and listen, entwined ‘neath winter’s window, mesmerized by this chill magic that enchants the sleeping earth. Soon we will dream, safe and warm, quiet in the hush of this realm, nestled ‘tween solstice past, and the equinox that approachs.
I’m the fragile fall of snow
softly blanketing the earth
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
Hey little guy
how ‘ya doin’
ya’ know
I really dig your whiskers
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Song: “That’s What Friends Are For”
Dionne, Stevie, Elton, Luther, Gladys, Whitney
Hey son, come here a minute please
where are the keys
they’re sure not here…
they disapper?
you recently drove to the store
I heard the door
when you came back
but the key rack
is bare as a baby’s bottom
where you got ‘em
I’ve asked you nice
won’t ask you twice
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
~ sometimes they go so very much too soon ~
Wolf moon hung heavy
once more
in its passing
its bulbous orb
rolled
through cold chromium fog
wet clouds
smeared themselves
across its face
like translucent billows
of glistening moonbeams
shivering midnight
that sorrowing hour
again laid bare my soul
in grief of secrets
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
Angry
at the wind
at moonlight
at sunlight
at life
in the storms
of my tears
your footprints
rut my dreams
I shiver
drenched in memories
of love’s vain promise
to be constant
as a breeze
as stars
as the sunrise
now
constant rain
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse