Images

beautiful quicksilver moon
readies for her night’s course
sky hunter fixes sharpened eyes
his grand duty to enforce

as starmaster reaches gently
into the vastness of quiet space
with handfulls of night diamonds
prepared to sparkle into place

then sky hunter locks the horizon
in his sunset gun’s true sight
and blasts his fiery colors
to welcome the coming night

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

NOTE: below is ‘Firing Up The Sunset Gun’, by: Animal Logic .

drums Stewart Copeland, bass Stanley Clarke, singer-songwriter Deborah Holland.

M emories of you
ripples on a mirrored lake
rise and roll gently
into the golden sunlight
carry me on their blue crest

C lear blue summer sky
deep azure crystalline lake
cool breeze on my face
fresh scent of water lilies
ripples gently lap the boat

D rifting in the blue
your face floats soft in my mind
like ripples of smoke
rising in my memory
wafting into gentle tears

L ike blue herons soar
feathers rippled in the winds
my sweetest dreams sail
back through tears of memory
when blue skies smiled on our love

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

Poetry at: dVerse

M ornin’ Leo, headin’ to work
yeah Frank, runnin’ late, as usual
how’re the wife and kids Leo
good, they’re good Frank
how’s your family
well Leo, the kids are good
but me’n m’wife — well…
we’re havin’ some issues Leo
well, that’s a shame Frank
yeah Leo, ya’ know…

she blew into my life like a typhoon
a hurricane of love
her kisses hot as lightning
striking from above

her passion was a tempest
I was swept up in its force
but now the winds have died
this storm may have run its course

my thoughts are grey and cloudy
my eyes at times do rain
my heart’s caught in this cold front
bad weather’s bringing pain

I hope the warm winds will return
as well — the clear blue skies
but my freezing heart does yearn
to again see sun-fire in her eyes

well, that sucks Frank, sorry to hear that
but ya’ know what they say
love is like the weather — and a traffic light
it’s frustratin’, but jus’wait, it’ll change
OK, this light has changed
so I gotta get to the office — take care Frank
yeah, me too, my in-box is overflowin’
you take care Leo
say hi to the family

*
rob kistner © 2021

O h to frolick in the fallen snow
to feel it cruch beneath my feet
to see the glistening whiteness roll
and feel the crisp chill on my cheek
walking in this winter wonderland

it’s damned hard walking in fresh snow
my feet are soaked and totally numb
snowblindness certainly is no joke
and this Bell’s Palsey really is no fun
this winter wasteland is a frozen hell

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

W ritten many pointed comments — yes
and polarizing poetry — indeed
I am not sorry that I wrote them
they’re intended to inspire

if any raised your hackles
it was you who chose to read
and it proves they were effective
if in-fact they stirred your ire

I will not change my viewpoint
my fired words I’ll not walk back
perhaps it’s you who should look inward
why did my thoughts make you upset

no — I’m not retracting anything
what I said must have been on track
so if you’re seeking an apology
that’s one thing you’ll never get

I know that I can be aggressive
perhaps my demeanor frightens you
if so — for that I’m sorry
but not sorry for what I said

I do not intend you bodily harm
that is not what I mean to do
no sticks n’stones to break no bones
just truth’s flame to fire your head

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

P ermit me to share the legend
of the man who rocked the world
luminescent — larger than life
his bold flag of fame unfurled

I was his grateful roadie
he treated me like a brother
the world lost a good one
he was truly like no other

with confidence he stood the stage
flashed his skills with grace and power
his celebrity rocketed skyward
enormous talent, in his finest hour

a humble hard-luck childhood
helped hone his heartfelt dream
a bright young man with wicked “chops”
he could make his guitars scream

his glory spread round the globe
renown and fortune grew unbound
like a rampant roaring wildfire
nothing it seemed would take him down

but terror struck while touring England
unleashing madness, fear, and strife
bombs tore through the concert hall
to save his fans, he risked his life

the first blast ripped the back wall
mike in hand, he stood cool and ready
“please people — don’t run in panic
move quickly — but please move steady”

he stood directing fans to safety
they all escaped — now he was last
as people gathered outside the hall
came the deaf’ning final blast

it was horror in high definition
TV broadcast the heartbreaking sight
a question hung heavy midst the chaos
did their hero meet death tonight

the sad truth was the top news story
the brave mega-star had died
all the world was seen to mourn
at candle vigils his fanbase cried

so permit me to share this legend
of this remarkably brave young man
who — possessed of wealth and fame
truly never forgot the fan

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

P hineas Morton is not a happy guy
that’s not to say he’s sad
he just decided long ago
not to live life on the extremes
so he would describe himself as
well
as centered
Phineas Morton is a centered guy

I’m Mortimore Magee
his best friend
and frequent visitor

Phineas lives
in the abandoned hull
of an old
yellow
school bus
which he’s fixed up to be
”just fine”
he assures
”lotta make-do, bit’a magic”

he was left there
by his parents
when he was 12
as they went off to find

well
“to find happiness”
he bemoans

this situation may also account
for his less than enthusiastic embrace
of the whole concept of happiness

Phineas dreams of
someday doing something
well
”something interesting”

shunning the extreme nature
of great
he is not really interested
in doing something great
interesting will do just fine

Phineas has a girlfriend
well
“sort of a girlfriend”
he says
“more like a girl acquaintance
sounds less all in”
he explains
which suits his centeredness
just fine

her name is Flo
Flo Humpledorf
though she has come to spell it
P-h-l-o
as an expression
of her affinity for Phineas
you know
Phineas and Phlo

well anyway
Phineas wants everyone to know
that while he waits
for his interesting life to begin
he can be found
”out by ole’ Doc Patterson’s pond”
in his shell of a bus

“you’re more than welcome to come by”
he says

just between you and me
if you do
don’t act too happy
if you know what I mean
it doesn’t sit well with the lad

also
if you decide to come by
bring some jelly beans
red jelly beans

why

because I love red jelly beans
and I really am there
a lot!

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

https://youtu.be/bl9bvuAV-Ao

Y esterday is the tear shed
the breath exhaled
the word spoken
the harvest in

today is the voice singing
the raindrops falling
the river flowing
a hand sowing

tomorrow is the unfolding dream
the gold dawn approaching
a new hope’s promise
the planted seed

*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

C arefully I walk this edge
balancing eternally between
my sacred nurturing soul
and my burning hearts’s needs

know I will not be confined
staying always in motion
an eternal ebb and flow
perpetual like the seas

my spirit is amorphous
bathed in the rays of change
expanding unrestrained
seeking purpose and freedom

I will not be defined
my nature is fluid
my essence is turbulent
deep and ever changing

my heart in constant surge
ignores the prevailing winds
seeking balance that is mine
to change at need — at will

you need not seek me
for I am always here
but do not name me
I will not be yours

*
rob kistner © 2021

and yet

the stuff I have
I must ignore
to have the time
to find some more

to stash
what it is I got
so there’ll be nothing
I have not

and when I have
all that there is
I’ll sit back
and say

gee wiz

I’m not certain
this is all
there is

limited space
no way
no way
I can fit more in
today

I may be nuts
or maybe not
but gotta have more
than what I got

I’m on the verge
of losing it
but I believe
more will fit

we’re near full
for sure
for sure
but I can still
fit a bit more

I can always
fit a bit more

though what I have
is gathering dust
and some perhaps
is gathering rust
though the walls
are ‘bout to bust
I’ll stuff in more
because
I must

I simply
must

Poetry at: dVerse

april’s wine is intoxicating
as winter’s pale heart yearns
to feel spring’s grand unfolding
as nature’s palette slowly turns

this sweet inebriation
of april’s longing soul
can bring forth act’s impulsive
and draw one to the jester’s role

so be wary – for when one’s
caught in this season’s swoon
the better judgements of january
dissolve under april’s moon

the elixir of a world in bloom
is to the lusting lovelorn
a most dangerous of potions
risky randy thoughts are born

so remember and be warned
under passion’s frenzied rule
april can easily make one
act quite the splendid fool

Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers

https://youtu.be/-GdJ_HOjtew

unfortunately
I’ve again awakened

another hard night
now
another shit day

I rise
make my way carefully
moving head down
shufflin’ to the bathroom
to wash my face

it’s reflected sallow
in the yellowed wash
of feeble incandescence

strange tired eyes
hold me in the mirror
broken as my spirit

eyes of knowing
eyes of disappoint
eyes of sadness

the look burns through me
weighing upon my being

I want to scream
but no one’s here to hear me
in this cluttered two-room flat

morning maintenance done
I grab a cold bagel
gather up my stuff
trudge out the front door
down the rickety wood stairs
into the oblivious streets
that echo my strangled dreams

I duck and dodge
in and out
of early morning shadows
past the garbage and graffiti
of these dirty bricken’d canyons

they vibrate with the rush and chaos
of synapse and sinew
the hum of networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
can — beyond the reach of — should

monoliths of human avarice
cold and indifferent
clad in stainless
stone
and such

a halogen and neon blaze
they surge with manipulation
and greed

in varying shape and differing size
they flank in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
blink and beep and ring
they buzz and hiss
and stink

thoughts flood in a torrent
souring my head

I’m now rushing
unseeing
seething with anger
and exasperation
when suddenly
I stumble

a crack in the sidewalk
this fuckin’ city!

then I look down
startled

what the hell
a flower
really
no shit!

in that moment
flabbergasted
I unspring my tension

exhaling
I pause

I’ll be damned
caught in a flash
of wonder
I muse

maybe

maybe dreams
actually do survive
somewhere

in this concrete hell-hole

Poetry at: Sunday Muse