of my fate
but know this
and be certain
of your choice
a mind
like your socks
can be changed
rob kistner © 2021
Lawrence Tieke — birth name until adoption
More poetry at: dVerse
Change
of my fate
of your choice
Images
of my fate
of your choice
To Us
To all d’Verse poets — Salùte!
this wine of friendship
ripened well with time
aged to a vintage true
may this nectar rare
sweeten all our days
may its heady warmth
linger long and lush
lighten life’s burdens
and ever lift our spirits
here’s to us!
rob kistner © 2021
More poetry at: dVerse
Tanka Tragedy
UH OH!
I want to maul you to death
not me — I’m a lamb
but I’m just a reflection
so I’m sorry — you are …screwed!
Can you please sing, while you — RUN?!
Poetry at: Sunday Muse
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
Day 4 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021
Seductive Fantasy
…a stream of consciousness trip…
Soaring psychedelic
colors pierce my eyes
to bleed into my mind
pulsing into shapes
and melting forms
dancingly irregular
a brilliant cacophony
of fully beautiful discord
that flows in time displacement
blared breathing blending abstract
wow dude!
~~ drifting drifting ~~
so wondrous and magical
as to create a dreamspace
where reality steps away
to a seductive fantasy
that roils and broils
a seething serenade
of sounds and vision
a sanctified vibration
simply too gone!
immaculate!
joyful noise’d orblets
flaring and flashing
in hues and shades
in timbre’d cadences
they spark stiletto sharp
stabbing staccato’d stealthy
and again colors pierce my eyes
lovely rumblings fill full my ears
shifting spinning and floating
to journey a’new through
my beautiful bountiful
and utterly blown
mind garden
}|=|{
psssst! hey! you!
am I conscious man —
— or halluuucinating truuuth?
April’s Fool
Early spring can make one
forget better judgement’s rules
filled with lust’s anticipation
desires sparkle bright like jewels
April’s fey intoxication
can make winter’s pale heart yearn
to feel this grand unfolding
to see nature’s great mandala turn
this sweet inebriation
can spark love’s eager soul
can ignite the rash impulsive
can draw one to the jester’s role
the elixir of the world in bloom
is to the lusting lovelorn
a most dangerous of potions
causing clear thought to be stillborn
remember well and here be warned
passion’s frenzy can be cruel
spring’s fever, it is well known
can make one act sweet April’s fool
Poetry at: dVerse
Day 3 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021
…a bit less foolish…
Folding Together
My daughter and son surprised, I should say shocked me yesterday, revealing the name and photo of my actual birth father — and the name of my birth mother. This information was unknown to me for 74 years. In fact, I was unaware my kids were genealogy mining. I was stunned to look at the picture my son showed me of a man, heretofore unknown to me, and quite clearly and eerily see “myself” — and the unmistakable faces of my son and daughter. Joseph Lawrence Perrmann and Evelyn Tieke — my birth father and mother. I was utterly floored. Using De’s prompt, I’ve created an imagined romantic scenario of that day they met, and I was conceived as a post WWII bastard — later to be placed in a “sealed” adoption.
and as beautiful as a summer day
what a most unususl place
to find such beauty
he muses to himself
as he paints her fondly
with his admiring eyes
“come here often miss”
he rolls off his lips
with a slow sly smile
“only when my laundry’s dirty”
she smiles back
with a perky snap
“what brought you in mister”
she banters jokingly
“like you, dirty laundry”
he emphasizes dirty
“you got a big load there”
she observes coyly
with a lingered downward glance
“you got a nice full basket too”
drawing ‘nice’ to a sly sssizzle
“what’s your name”
he asks, seductively
“Evelyn, what’s yours”
she flirts back
“Joe, but friends call me JL
you can just call me
whatever feels good to you, Evelyn”
he offers with an inviting smile
“can I call you Eve”
“sure, Eve is nice
what’s the L for, Joe”
“Lawrence — Joseph Lawrence Perrmann
purr, you know — like a cat”
“I’m Eve, Eve Tieke
you know, like the wood”
she says
“wa d’ya do JL,
rather, Joe”
she teasingly purrs
“I’m now a cop,
was Navy shore patrol,
I’m just back from war”
“where’s your gun officer”
she coaxs
“I keep it holstered
until I need t’use it”
he warns mockingly
“is it a big gun, Joe”
feigning wonder
“it’ll do the job Eve
you like guns”
“not usually
but I bet yours is nice”
she says breathily
they continued chatting
and flirting
while they laundered
growing more interested
and mutually attracted
just then
buzzzzz
“well, laundry’s dry Eve
wanna help each other fold”
she looks around
“these tables are awfully small”
she replies encouragingly
“I live just around the block Joe
and I have the perfect table”
“great Eve, let’s go there
and fold together
— how does that sound”
he asks suggestively
“purr-fect, Joe
I would love to fold with you”
she says directly into his eyes
“OK,
then let’s go
show me the way Eve”
they pause
their imaginations fully engaged
smiling deeply into each others eyes
“OK” Eve says warmly
body language relaxed
eyes willing
then JL turns
grabs both baskets
full of their warm laundry
and out the door they go
together
and into my history
Poetry at: dVerse
Burst of Blossoms
The burst of cherry blossoms outside my window, always heralds an uplift in my mood. Their bright blooms bring a lightness to my spirit, that puts a smile in my heart. Their delicate countenance speaks to me of peace and gentle beauty, while the heady fragrance stirs thoughts and feelings of love.
They deliver me from the doldrums of winter into the joys of the unfolding spring, celebrating renewal and new possibility. The time of cherry blossoms is a sacred time of transcendence, to be honored and embraced with gratitude, for the blessing of rebirth. May this stricken world find rekindled hope.
sweet pink blossoms burst
red spring buds have spread their wings
soon will be cherries
Poetry at: dVerse
Fallen
…oh, again to soar…
I could but glide
like a bird in flight
I would soar skyward
on feathered wings
in sweeping circles
lifted on mighty thermals
I would not be earthbound
not a captive of gravity
if I could
but break the gravity
of time
I would not be a prisoner
of regret
this day would be soaring
and swooping
and giving thanks
for feathers
and hollow bones
and forgiveness
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: Sunday Muse
These women can SING!!
Danza del Deseo
…burnin’ it down…
pressing against his
the flesh of her hip
urgent against him
the warmth
as he responds involuntarily
a heat spreads through him
a quickening of pulse
he swoons
and swells
a deep need overtakes him
he reaches ’round her
firmly encircling her waist
with his strong arm
pulling her forward
bending her backward
with the power of his body
consumed by her passion
thus begins the danza del deseo
his urges hot and husky
on her ear and cheek
they churn in slow pleasure
building in lustful pace and tension
they dance and dance
well into the starry starry night
spinning into a carnal fury
until finally
a great release
sweeps over them
they melt together
in fevered bliss
matching breath for slowing breath
his lips
soft on the nape of her neck
they drift to earth
entwined in the joy
the afterglow
of love’s lingered embrace
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: Poets & Storytellers
Day 5 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021
Sorrow
…born in water, in water she’s swept away…
on this broken, cloud-covered day
slipping into the surge alone
silently, she kicks away
on these broken, cloud-covered days
alone with her fractured wishes
she drops so silently ‘neath the waves
deep, deep down to the fishes
alone with her fractured wishes
a’tumble in the seabed’s sway
down down deep with the fishes
she is leaving it all today
sorrow’s a’swim in the seabed’s sway
beauty’s nothing left to say
she is leaving this lonely world, today
the sea will sweep her away
rob kistner © 2021
*Check out: Joy’s Pantoum
https://youtu.be/K5oAf7bs7_U
Day 2 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021
Celebrate
…if but one candle…
let love’s flame damp down false fear
our human spirit swells with yearning
sweet logic’s voice again we hear
let love’s flame damp down false fear
illuminate at last this dark
sweet logic’s voice again we hear
extinguish now vile hatred’s spark
illuminate at last this dark
this warmth of truth we need to feel
extinguish now vile hatred’s spark
our hungry hearts seek this that’s real
the warmth of truth we need to feel
our human spirit swells with yearning
our hungry hearts seek this that’s real
let’s celebrate the truth returning
rob kistner © 2021
*Check out: Sorrow’s Pantoum
Convergence
Convergence, 1952 by Jackson Pollock
when the multi hues
of your vivid life
finally converge
and its fractured palette
at last melds
into a beautiful whole
may its canvas forever hang
in the hearts
of those you’ve loved
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
Trueff
with my mind’s eye
watch the flow of people
the shuffle of feet
with the different sounds
of their telltale shoes
the divergent realities
through which truth stumbles frayed
to move in the world
rough as rope
knotted as every inarticulate promise
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
This Clearing
This Clearing
~
unsullied
tinged with the sparkle
of discovery
already I see
with growing clarity
how real
my love for you
how true
my bond of fidelity
how remarkable
our relationship
how aware I grow
day to day
how possible it becomes
I could give my life to you
in these precious moments
of honest reflection
emotions overwhelm me
I vow I will share with you
the depth of these feelings
holding nothing back
baring all
then that fog creeps in
that veil of insecurity
how frail is my ego
courage stumbles
precious opportunity fades
expressions of love falter
foolishly
I fall mute
smiling blissfully
so my love
forever see these words
as a clearing
where you alone can visit
to be nurtured
a private
wonderful place
you alone can go
to truly know
these treasures in my heart
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2021
More at: Poets & Storytellers
Yeah Sure
So, wadayathinka’ma piercing eyes?
………… sure
wadayathinka’ma brooding stare?
………… right
wadayathinka’ma chiseled nose?
………… uh-huh
wadayathinka’ma rugged complexion?
………… yep
wadayathinka’ma manly beard?
………… hmm
wadayathinka’ma pensive furrowed brow?
………… well, gotta go
hey, wait! — wadayathink, wadayathink, huh… wadayathink?!
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: Sunday Muse