~
rob kistner © 2020
To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE
A Child’s Reply
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A father passed his son’s room, and glanced in to see the boy sitting on the floor, seemingly staring at the wall. The father thought he might step in to the room to see why his son had his gaze fixed so intently on the far wall. Reconsidering, he walked on to the kitchen, thinking it better not to disturb the child.
Passing his son’s door again, he noticed the boy had not moved. This time the father stepped in to inquire what was going on. “What are you doing son?” Without turning, the son replied, “I’m listening.” The father marveled, “Listening to what son? There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles”
Slowly turning to look at his father, the boy quietly said, “no dad, you’re wrong. When I close my eyes, I can hear the whole world.”
To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE
Just Gone
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No warning, they were just gone. We were left to wonder, “what’s going on.” The entire family strangely disappeared, no clue what happened. Truly very weird.
Taken in an instant, to where, we may never know. Midst this kitchen clutter, it all abruptly ended. Was their mortal life forfeit, or was time within these walls, ominously suspended?
“Highly suspicious”, thought the detective. “People don’t simply vanish.” So he began an intensive investigation. Searched each room, the attic, the garage outside — he searched it all. Lastly even the hollow of the cookstove wall.
Finally he concluded, “there is nothing behind the wall, except a space where the wind whistles.” Yet, muffled by that wind, come inaudible cries — there is no doubt. “Oh please! Please hear our bloody fingers, scratching to get out!”
rob kistner © 2020
To check out more poems at dVerse: CLICK HERE
~
furtive angel nonpareil
lolled lush upon vermilion leather
coral goblet of mimosan nectar
fondled to saffron velvet bodice
now supple breast, soft loin and limbs
stand aglow in emerald sweet seduction
magenta lace teases from turquoise silk
ignites violet lust’s combusted indigo
silvered undulation in a mirror mist
of moonlight promise in a cerulean fog
beckons aureate midst dewy dripping ferns
to stir lucid languid cerisean joy
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2020
To read more poetry at dVerse, click below:
twilight having receded
moonlight labors hard
slowly shouldering its way
through the thickening shroud
gnarled shape of leaf-dead trees
their spindly spiked branches
thrust skyward knobbed and twisted
their trunks bent threateningly.
muffled deep within my soul
a chaotic chill of seeming voices
shiver a darkly indecipherable
no no novemburrr
— QUADRILLE —
giving up
is giving in
grip letting go of dreams
frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage
happy is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded
stopping is no option
for the times
they are a’changin’
rob kistner © 2020
— COMPLETE VERSION —
* Watch me read Frozen Man complete version: CLICK HERE
to lose the way is to keep going
keep moving forward
lest one atrophies
rigid with despair
paralyzed with doubt
locked in hopelessness
bound by fear
the giving up
is the giving in
is the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams
loss of faith debilitates the soul
cripples the manifest light
that shines so bright
at the leap into sacred uncertainty
so bright
as to boldly illuminate truth
frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage
terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked
wounded by fear
bleeding out the color of life
hemorrhaging joy
exsanguinating possibility
a cold brittled husk
mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death
as to light the way of truth
valiant is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded
a cry of dissatisfaction
a voice of change
a stand for defiance
stopping is no option
so senators and congressmen
you best heed the call
don’t stand in the doorway
don’t block up the hall
for they that will lose
will be they who have stalled
so brothers and sisters
raise up your hand
let it be known
throughout the land
if we want change
we must take a stand
NO
stopping is no option
for the times
they are a-changin’
https://youtu.be/wZ9drv78dCQ
NOTE: To read more about folly: CLICK HERE
NOTE: To watch me read The Folly of More: CLICK HERE
they once vibrated
with the rush and chaos
of synapse and sinew
they hummmed
with networked urgency
a torrent of data
outdistancing comprehension
‘we can’
beyond the reach
of ‘should we’
multitudes chanting
more more more
a time too blind
to see its faulted fate
a time to turn back
sadly came too late
bedecked in stainless
stone
and arrogance
a halogen blaze
of neon fire
burnt logic
they surged
with the impulse of power
and greed
in varying shape
and differing size
they flanked for miles
in gridded corridors
that crissed and crossed
blinked and beeped
buzzed and hissed
they stank!
temples of avarice
now but this lone
crumbling monolith
this final tribute
to human folly
rob kistner © 2020
NOTE: To read more about folly: CLICK HERE
~
sanctified artistic beings
stalking their unreal visions
as time and reality bends away
prowling the eclectic realm
lusting for some surreal magic
gesso-deep in life’s illusions
fingers burned to the bone
from fresco fire-dancin’
with the gouache-devils of
pain angst and perception
rollin’ like infernos
three combusting fireballs
longing to boldly set aflame
every forbidden bristle‘n bit
of passion knowledge and truth
rob kistner © 2020
NOTE: To watch me read Nocturne: CLICK HERE
bulbous moist pearl
rolling
in a cold chromium fog
wet slivers of cloud
smear themselves
across its face
irregular
like translucent sacks
of moonbeams
breathing
glassine billowing pillows
oozing
soaked with midnight
stars float and spark
glinting
dripping
shivering
frozen splintered crystal tips
diamond chips
pinprick rips
in blackened space
they wink and wane
and flutter
shattered bits of silvered light
snapping here then not
behind the ghostly white vapor
that slithers
through the firmament
the world
devoid of color
aglow in sterling grey
a negative of day
thick and chilled
filled with the sound
of stalking after-dark things
nocturne
the sorrowing hour
to lay bare your soul
in pale introspection
in grief of secrets
~
even trapped in torment
as in the skulls of saints
persecuted for their truth
he will hold her love sacred
lidded ‘neath his heart’s brow
secreted like a palmed rose
he will never forget
rob kistner © 2020
molten cores
mingled gasses
hurtling shards
black holes
plasma rain
liquid lightning
revolving orbs
in evolving orbit
with beings aboard
attractions — repulsions
magnetized masses
in precarious fragility
inconceivable
ever expanding
frozen dance of chaos
on the tentative edge
of balance
rob kistner © 2020
“Liquid Lighting” — A bit of poetic license, drawn from the fact that recent studies indicate that ice, hail, and semi-frozen water drops known as graupel are essential to the creation of lightning anywhere in the universe such conditions exist
~
rob kistner © 2020
each step
cushioned by centuries of needle-drop
deep in this ancient forest
enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I’ve ringed a portion
of the cerulean mountain lake
my crooked walking stick
smooth in my right hand
rounding a bend in the trail
brushing through waist-high fern
dappled emerald in scattered sunlight
I crest a knoll
by the restless azure brook
and stop
mesmerized
as before
I have reached my wonderland
filtered by the towering woodland canopy
light drifts down dreamlike
settles golden
into the natural cathedral before me
were it a manmade cathedral
or a grande ballroom
truly gorgeous
might describe it
but this is so much more
breathtaking
falls short
even magnificent
feels wanting
a cool lake breeze
enfolds me
filled with the heady scent
of the living earth
cascade red cedar
douglas fir
ponderosa pine
moss
fern
bark
loam
wildflower
ionized mountain air
intoxicated
I grow very still
listening
breathing
I become this moment
rapt
in touch with my soul
with the eternal
I’m transcendent
this is — paradise
This is the natural gateway on Trail #656 opening on the old growth stand.
Both well over 200 feet tall, and hundreds of years old.
1/2 mile ahead you leave the path, wandering into the heart of the giants!
mighty sentinels
guardians of the old growth
may ever you stand
rob kistner © 2020
First 2 of my 3 words are imbedded, in order, in poem. 3rd word: swanky
~
Why is Seth Wheeler not famous and revered? Why do we not celebrate his outstanding contribution to the world? Why is his accomplishment not taught in schools, as part of the fabric of our nation?
We all know the name of Thomas Edison. Though, in current time, we’ve learned Nicola Tesla is the man who actually fathered the AC electric current, which now powers the world. But, the names of these two men glow brightly through history. And Henry Ford, Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs — we know these men because they made our lives easier, more comfortable.
Poor Seth, uncelebrated. People have fought in the streets over his invention! Yet, he’s essentially unknown. Undoubtedly, we look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of time. Like he’s been wiped from history. Sad! After all, he invented rolled and perforated toilet paper!
rob kistner © 2020
