Month: October 2025

Original DDE™  art: “World of Ideas” by: rob kistner © 10/30/25

—-<§>—-

a dream takes wing — a flicker in the blue

a tremor born of wonder light and chance

stirs the fertile mind — light breaks through

unfolds the vision into a bold expanse

this fragile faith began as happenstance

 

dreams gather pace to become design

the mind — once hesitant, begins to shine

doubt loosens as fear gives way to — “try”

in that leap to “what if” — the stars align

belief and vision unlocks the how and why

 

rob kistner © 10/30/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

 

Original DDE™  art: “Love’s Sustain” by: rob kistner © 10/30/25

 

—-<§>—-

a single note drifts soft through midnight air

its silver thread entwines my broken heart

it sustains in longing — tender and aware

then shivers where the moonlight’s whispers start—

a fragile echo — love’s unfinished art

 

it rises trembles falls — yet never dies

the stars lean close to listen — mesmerized

a breath made sound — a sigh that’s half a prayer

as tears like chords of yearning fill my eyes

for music feels what silence cannot bear

 

rob kistner © 10/30/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™  quadart: “Winederland” by: rob kistner © 10/30/25

—-<§>—-

between equinox and solstice

the vines lean heavy

their tendrils jeweled with dusk

of Pacific Northwest sundowns

 

in the hush before harvest

the valleys and the foothills

glow with a slow intoxication—

 

the air itself tastes of promise

 

grape clusters

swell to bursting

 

skins deepening to blue black

violet

golden green —

 

god fire…

 

the pulp’n leaves

of gold  rust and tan

whisper of endings

they have learned to love

 

a red hawk drifts high over the foothills

its shadow cutting through sweetness

 

soon careful knowing hands

will gather this fruit of dreams

   then crush these sun-orbs of summer

to pour into waiting vats of oak

 

wood that has known decades of secrets

echoing with fermentation’s hymn

to cradle it until the magic happens

until… “It’s Alive” *

 

the scent will rise—

earth — berry — yeast and miracle —

it will spill into the cool night

like incense from a slow prayer

 

somewhere a vintner hums softly

listening for the first stir of magic

that moment when juice becomes spirit

and labor becomes art

 

I watch the valley breathe

vineyard and vision

in a dance I understand—

 

we too are grapes ripening

toward some unseen wine

 

pressed by time

aged by longing

becoming…even now

something divine —

blessed here in this paradise

 

—-<§>—-

 

* Victor Frankenstein, Frankenstein (1931)

 

rob kistner © 10/30/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™  art: “Recalibration” by: rob kistner © 10/28/25

“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice “Oh — You must be, Alice” said the Chesire Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

we all go a little mad sometimes*

when the world moves faster

than thought can form

the pulse of data

beats louder than the human heart

and silence —

that ancient sanctuary —

seems now a myth

 

whispered

midst the drone of irrelevance

between the distraction

of self-aggrandized

“important” notifications

 

we mistake velocity for meaning

volume for truth

connection for communion

the spark for the flame

 

our eyes flicker like moths

around the blue glow

of a thousand screens

each promising revelation

 

each delivering exhaustion

confusion

desperation

 

we all go a little mad sometimes

because we were not built

to know everything

all at once

 

to feel every wound

every outrage

every triumph —

simultaneously

 

the mind splinters

under the weight

of its own awareness

 

even dreams are interrupted

by headlines

bulletins

“we interrupt to bring you…” ‘s

 

and yet

beneath the static

a quiet pulse remains —

 

the slow

deliberate rhythm

of hearts still beating

in a world still breathing

 

if we can turn toward it

turn off the brightness

and let the dark recalibrate us

 

let the quiet realign us

offer us some peace

we might remember —

madness is only the sound

of the soul

trying to rest

in a world

that never sleeps

as it’s grinding down

all of us crazy little diamonds

—<§>—

 

Original DDE™  art: “In Time” by: rob kistner © 10/29/25

The madness of time travel

your very essence

merged with light and mystery

 

the air humms with computations

that dream themselves conscious

folding cause into consequence

into forward course

until all rigid meaning flickers

vaporizing into navigatable concept

 

each thought a corridor

— through which you float

demolecularized

luminous

 

above — sighs of yesterday

below — churns of tomorrow 

to the left and right

parallel presents

flowing forward and back

everything in flux

moving

evolving

we all go a little mad sometimes*

 

time travel — like insanity

is the art of turning chaos to clarity

before either are manifest inflexible —

 

the magic of touching the edge

of what’s impossible

 

stepping into tomorrow

hands gripping solid to yesterday

to end up in the omnipresence of now

 

and when you emerge

you are neither here nor then —

 

but rather a glimmer

caught in the turning of the hourglass

 

you’re eternally now

forever arriving

forever gone

 

consumed by the mystical

touching the madness

as you dissolve

into the shimmer between seconds —

to slip soundless

through the skin of time

 

where time breathes softly,

and everything trembles with possibility

 

you— adrift among moments

unmoored

pursuing your envisioned reality

through the expanse of  lifelight

through the future and the memory

,

 air crackling with choices 

that dream themselves to exist

unaware the good or bad

of unrealized fate 

 

folding cause into consequence

until all temporality flickers

each flicker a time stream

— through which you are transported 

luminous and perfect

watching yourself approaching in the distance

 

perplexed

yet ecstatic 

 

kistner © 10/28/25

Poetry at: dVerse

*Norman Bates – Psycho

 

Original DDE™  art: “Evening Walk” by: rob kistner © 10/27/25

—-<§>—

A brisk breeze slips along the path, fragrant with rain and possibility. Hills a’brush in amber and rust, trees tremble with light. The air hums with change. Leaves release themselves softly, freedom in their separation , surrendering to the gentle hush that follows.

I watch their slow escape, feeling a pulse of quiet epiphany. In their falling, I sense a strange calm, a blessing — the world neither dying nor grieving, but transforming, beautifully, into a breath of renewal.

A peace gathers at the bronzed edge of things, as trees relax their grip; saffron light seeps through thinning branches. Every leaf drifts downward with the grace of acceptance — a long kaleidoscopic sigh — a final dance before rest. I walk beneath them, feeling their cascade inside me, as though memory itself is evolving.

There is beauty in this soft unraveling — this gentle celebration of release, of evolution . Autumn teaches by transforming.

leaves let go in change —

the heart, full-open, listens

to its own turning

 

rob kistner © 10/27/25

Poetry at: dVerse

---

May love enfold the seasons of your life…

Original DDE™  art: “Seasons” by: rob kistner © 10/23/25

 

—-<§>—-

 

I lean out

through time’s open window

slow-breathed

 

the breeze

fragrant with rain

and possibility

 

spring’s nurturing light

spills across my desk

warming my youthful face

stimulating my imaginations

 

dreams of inquiry are coaxed

igniting discovery

 

the world going green

inhales deeply

reaching for more sky

bursting with life

 

cresting the golden hill

comes long-armed summer

 

energy pulsing

writhing naked

a’shimmer

 

dancing unbridled

flaunting itself unashamed

laughing unabashedly

radiant in the window frame

seemingly inexhaustible

 

but soon

twilight approaches

 

a brisk wind

wafts through my window

caresses my face

with a rejuvenating — smack!

snapping my reverie

 

autumn arrives unapologetically

 

boldly

it begins brushing

in broad strokes

 

amber

saffron

bronze

and rust

 

crackling colors of change

slathered ‘cross the landscape

with joyous abandon

 

then slowly

meticulously

Fall disrobes

the quivering trees

 

they acquiesce submissively

freely letting go

uninhibited

 

each leaf

a lesson in surrender

 

a chill stirs

the calendar turns

the hourglass inverts

darkness quickens

time slows

 

now the casement

holds more silence

than song

as winter settles softly on the sill

 

softly on my soul

 

quietly I close the window

embracing the sterling hush

 

glassen’d panes fog

frosting with trembled breath

 

beyond

the trees stand still

calmly quiet —

 

bare

but unembarrassed

 

waiting

 

I too wait

watching their vigil

feeling the ache of beauty

in their patience

 

knowing

this is not… an end  —

 

simply a turn of the page

in life’s eternal journal

 

in the book of seasons

 

rob kistner © 10/20/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

the Pacific Northwest (Washington & Oregon) annually produce 77% of the fresh U.S. apple crop

Original DDE™  art: “Cider Season” by: rob kistner © 10/21/25

—-<§>—-

driving east from the coast

Columbia Gorge opens like a hymn —

 

mist lifting off the pines

the river winding on

gantle as memory

 

we laugh

as we travel deeper into this realm

 

scarecrows

guarding their kingdoms of crimson and gold

 

each orchard

a nurtured secret

kept by rain

 

fragrance of cider

applewood smoke

and something older —

 

a sweetness that waits all year

for this soft collapse of summer

from the April explosion of blossoms

that herald a crisp delicious awakening

 

we amble ‘tween rows of trees

breathing in the intoxicating promise

 

hands brushing bark

cool as stone

 

apples

round as bursting joyous hearts

 

and I think —

this is how the world knows us

will remember us

 

not in words

but in the taste of what we bring forth

to share

 

later —

as light fades violet over Hood River

Cascade’s climbs painted in moonlight

music carries from the Harvest Fest

 

fiddles

banjoes

scrub tub base

pulsing with a rhythm of love

wafting throughout the valley

 

scent of carameled apples

a slow dance between rainclouds.

and I know —

 

autumn is not a season at all

but October’s promise

whispered in the space that surrounds us

during this cider season

 

rob kistner © 10/20/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Original DDE™  art: “Awe” by: rob kistner © 10/20/25

—-<§>—-

I cup wonder’s spark

in my palms —

 

small

trembling

bright as a newborn star

 

as winds of uncertainty stir

coveting its shimmer

 

but I build walls of dreams

vision

 

feed it whispers

color

and song

 

until it explodes

to burn unbridled

 

effervescent

fierce

unextinguishable

 

rob kistner © 10/20/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

 

Original DDE™  art: “Burnin’ ” by: rob kistner © 10/15/25

—-<§>—-

Mad in love

I’ve lost my head

and with it too my reason

 

fallen away

lost in the dust of sanity

 

my heart calling your name

drawn down now

to a hoarse whisper of yearning

 

I ride blind

through the fevered darkness of longing

astride the rippled sinew of passion

 

gripping reins of desire

slick with wanting

 

the night alive

soaked with frustration’s tears

each falling like a razored blade

cutting deeper my soul

 

your memory a ghost horse

eluding me

as I smolder in the sweat of lust

 

my fantasies afire

your voice is the flame

that burns the horizon to ash

 

I chase anyway—

 

this endless gallop through ruin and rapture

where love is the madness

and this madness is what drives me on

 

rob kistner © 10/15/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

 

Original DDE™  art: “Dreamflight” by: rob kistner © 10/14/25

—-<§>—-

When I was small

this word was a universe

its syllables — open wings

 

powerful

endless

 

I’d lie still in darkness

and whisper it

— infinity —

again and again

until I’d rise

gravity forgetting my name

the ceiling — a mist of stars

 

I was the boy

and the watcher of the boy

sleeping

face painted with August

losing grip of the summer night

 

my face fading

unmoored

drifting up through midnight

wondering my destination

 

what will I do there

without my hands upon

your summer face

 

there was no end

only the hush between heartbeats

 

the slow unravel of time itself

 

and when wonder tilted toward fear

the vastness unsettling

I’d call myself home —

 

fall back through folds of light

into the whisper of my own breath

 

even now

that word trembles in me like a bell

— infinity —

a sound that knows the way out

and the way back in

rob kistner © 10/14/25

Poetry at: dVerse