~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2021
https://youtu.be/Ff-0pHwyQ1g
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just beyond
the big roan
rustles in his stall
as the faded red slats
of the weathered horse barn
quietly creak
inside
at the oak table
we sit with dinner
and complacency
there is little resonance
we care for one another
our love goes without saying
meal finished
we clear the table
to the clinks and clanks
of china and sterling
being rinsed
in the stainless steel sink
we converse very little
no need
we know each other
we know without saying
task done
we part quietly
me
to my desk
to write
you
to your chair
to read
outside
golden sunset
softly shades
the side deck
to easy sounds
of settling horses
content from final feeding
tubular bells lilt quietly
in gathering twilight
inside
soft shadows
blanket subtle activity
we are comfortable
in our quiet bond
that goes without saying
outside
a wakening wind
greets day’s end
chimes vigorously keep pace
inside
turbulent uncertainty
stirs
as I type
I wonder
are we really happy
surely we are
that goes without saying
but why is it
we do not say
we wear these masks of coy silence
to hide the vulnerable face of love
how dangerously foolish we’ve become
it’s then
my heart wants to call out
to rouse you
from your pulp and plot
talk with me
I lift my mask
see me now
see me new
talk with me
I can still surprise
let us say
what is not said
unmask our hearts
and talk
before our love
slips away
without ever saying
outside
copper
chimes in the darkness
inside
silence
rings aloud
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2021
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Letters of Life
letter by letter
word by word
I reach out
from fingertips flow feelings
mindfully crafting verse
sculpting images
memory engaged
spirit enlivened
my thoughts ignite
my heart pours forth
I share
honest emotion
barriers down
longing for connection
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 1/19/21
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I sometimes get very dark, my emotions get brittle. Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy that anger at life swells. Try as I might to fight it, this darkness still surfaces, my inner light goes out. But I continue facing it down when I feel its chilled grip.
That is what life is, keeping the good fight, finding the balance, because life is all about balance. The keeping of it, and the regaining of it when it’s lost. And it does get lost at times, very lost
But waging the battle’s an opportunity to confront the profound, and the mysterious. The great mystery we are not meant to solve, but rather to ponder with grace and wonder, in the embrace of love. For love is the gateway to the great mystery. And it is love that will light the darkness.
rob kistner © 2021
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An homage to the golden days of Hollywood, and the sultry sirens that sizzled on the big silver screen.
goddess of the silver screen
every man’s fantasy
luscious charms beguile bewitch
a most gorgeous mystery
golden lady of sensuous gaze
a beauty sure to mesmerize
face sculpted by a master’s hand
so seductive as to scandalize
her stare whispers come hither boy
as it floats above a comely pout
spellbound by her big magic eyes
she holds your soul with no way out
her tongue tip teases her top lip’s. edge
like a supple paintbrush flowing
this woman-girl’s smile will hypnotize
then wrap around you knowing
you are now her helpless captive
quite hopelessly addicted
in the velvet grip of this smoldering vamp
but is she an angel — or fiery wicked
rob kistner © 2021
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it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of a welcoming sea
as the rising sun embraces this morning
day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets
prisoners of this quarantine
me and my loyal iPad
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly perplexed by this morning’s news
I read The Atlantic online
CNN drones on my wall TV
occasionally distracted
I avoid both angry screens
growing troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious
in this moment
my head drums
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare unfocused
TV announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I have fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this fucking world
rob kistner © 2021
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where you can watch
the golden clouds of Telure
wafting up its emerald climbs
high over its warm cerulean seas
where you can hear
the shrill haunting calls
of fast coral-winged Lellurts
racing into Droon’s violet skies
or see the copper hues
of rustling Parmus fronds
fire the indigo ground mists
beneath Gemin’s crystal trees
or maybe a genie’s lamp
carrying you off to Xanadu
to Kubla Khan’s pleasure-dome
where the sacred river Alph runs
or perhaps an enchantment
that introduces you to Bastian
and you two adventure to Fantasia
to save the kingdom from The Nothing
no, this is not a book
it’s a time travel vehicle
a portal to parallel worlds
it’s a key to unlock wonders
it’s imagination’s magic carpet
it is anything you dream it to be
but it’s definitely not — just a book
rob kistner © 2021
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rob kistner © 2021
To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE
https://youtu.be/5Kahhl5Qhus
my mouth upon you
hungrily
oh lush plush pink lady
I bite you
firm but gentle
sweetly as ambrosia
you glisten
honeycrisp
trickle from my lips
you taste
golden delicious
tart as jonagold
tender flesh
so succulent
saucy treat sweetango
again I bite
with such delight
your tantalizing treasure
my soul’s afire
heady desire
such luscious juicy pleasure
rob kistner © 2021
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I was so horrified by what transpired in our nation’s capital yesterday that I set out to write a scathingly angry piece. However, it just got darker and darker still, the more I edited — and I was dragging myself under. So instead, I turned to blissful whimsy. I will return to being pissed off tomorrow.
a tear can cloud the brightest day
song will brush those clouds away
is not sadness just a passing state
but what melody can alleviate
a tune played true as voices ring
little sorrows flee from such display
thing is, too few will dare to sing
and thus succumb to much dismay
yet when life is lived in harmony
what sorrow you feel will quickly fade
joy shared in chorus works perfectly
it swells the soul in love’s serenade
is it not foolish to stem bliss’s bloom
to see naught but the dark and gloom
sing — let beautiful light the room
rob kistner © 2021
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Certainly one of my most favorite poets is Gary Snyder. He has inspired me for years to write about the natural wilderness, an endeavor that sparks the ecstatic in me. This short poem of his that follows in parenthesis, “How Poetry Comes To Me”, directly inspired me to write the poem that follows further below, “Why Poet”. I had been in discussion with members of a poetry group years ago. We were talking about where and how we find our muse. Holding in mind this poem by Gary, I wrote the first draft of “Why Poet”. I wrote this revision found here for this prompt.
© Gary Snyder
<=|=>
fond of stumbling in
fumbling through
finding the way that’s mine
seduced by the clue
drawn to the fog
I seek the wonder
it withholds
my ears prick
to the distant sound
that calls
just beyond clarity
it is to this
my soul is pulled
because
down that path
around a curve
over a crest
hidden away
the truth dwells
rob kistner © 2021
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But my adult son and daughter have much life still to live. Watching the challenges they continue to encounter, fills me with much concern. However, seeing them embrace the ongoing changes so brilliantly, fills me with much hope. My 7-year-old grandson Alex, my son’s boy, while mildly confused by it all, and ready with questions, is maneuvering this new normal — resiliently.
I worry for his education, but he assures me he finds school online with his friends, “kinda fun PaPa!” He answers the zoom “school bell” on his laptop every morning with a smile. He is bursting with learning, always proud to share with me what new he knows today! He, with great support and nurturing from his father and mother, have shown PaPa — love finds a way.
rob kistner © 2021
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what was the fire
that burned so bright
and raged so fierce
as to consume complete
that in its heat
and ferocity
could not sustain
your tenderness of youth
until it became
much too much
for you to bear
yet still I hear
your silken voice
rising
to joy
to freedom
to love
to lust and longing
to heartache
to impatience
to immortality
your soulful siren sound
calling from the rooftops
over new york city
so seductive
the breathless passion
the bliss
and sorrow
of bittersweet innocence
when your wonder
stirred to every mystery
and your spirit lit
to every spark
igniting the fury in your soul
so brightly it burned
filled with red yellow honey
sassafras and moonshine
in a roaring sweet blindness
an inferno of creativity
ultimately
to leave you spent
at the stony end
and so
crying angel
I think of you
sweet songstress
remembering
rob kistner © 2020
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you were there
the dismissive femme fatale
in this final edit
you took his cues
took his keys
took his shoes
took his leave
took his heart…
…took him apart
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
one that saw you
leave quietlyy alone
through the garden
alive with the fragrance of roses
and the joys of the lilly
and you said “I’d like, too,
to plant the sweet alyssum
that smells like honey
and peace”
and in this peaceful quiet
there would be
no long farewells
no broken hearts
at least
not yours
and the abandoned man
in the leather chair
had my face
had no expectations
made no demands
held you responsible
for nothing
nothing
and the night lark sang
and a silver tear
fell hard as steel
from his crystal’d cheek
which you collected in a sterling box
to toss into the freezing sea
for you had no need for tears
no need
you’d rolled the dice
but the bones was loaded
and you left the table
cashed in your winnings
climbed the winding stairs
silk purse in hand
his heart in your pocket
to place it at midnight
on your balcony rail
to watch it wither in the moonlight
he had no need for it
now
nor did you
anymore
nor most certainly
did you
no need
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this castle is most ominous
since becoming Overlord of the Realm
Zwénne has rejected our father’s example
as our father rejected him and his ways
no joy warms the hallways, or towers
this long proud and mighty old structure
now a soulless abode of dark magic
it has become cold and foreboding
a nest for perverse wing’d changlings
rumored deadly for those that dare enter
but I know they are not just rumors
there is undoubtedly a murderous evil
that dwells within its walls
raging jealousy — seething and vicious
since conjuring the spirit
of Döxys, the blood beast
and having been thus possessed
Zwénne has become bloodthirsty
mindlessly violent and cruel
now a ruthless predator
whom I have come to slay
would that this task were not mine
but I have been charged herewith
by the supreme council of wizards
Zwénne is my fallen elder brother
and by decree, under this 3rd moon
in the presence of his perverse court
by my hand alone, he must die
no turning back now, this must be done
and I must do it, but I am terrified
I hesitate at the heavy castle door
attempting to gain much needed composure
I slow my heartbeat, steady my breathing
I lift the iron latch, the lock clicks
the massive door unseats inwardly
this is it, fate has dealt the cards
I am both prisoner and executioner
trapped hopelessly in this horrible plot
I search my soul to find the courage
to take the life of my own flesh & blood
I swing the door open ever so gradually
eyes darting, mind racing, heart pounding
I step in…
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