Month: November 2025

Original DDE™ art: “Golden Spiral” by: rob kistner © 11/25/25

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from silence a spiraled spark is born

soft echo rising from echo’s dawn

a blooming coil in the quiet air

patterned numbers repeat a whispered prayer

as golden circles are gently drawn

each turning carries an older trace

a memory wrapped in a mirrored grace

a breath becoming a wider ring

this unfurling an eternal thing

in the hidden chambers of time and space

these coils remember what light once knew —

the path the seed in its dreaming grew

its curves unfolding in perfect rhyme

soft syllables spoken by ancient time

a script of shapes — each one forms true

the helix rises with deliberate poise

near golden-born, near that ancient voice

its measured turn a geometry of calm

world’s ratios shaped in ethereal palms

a spiral’s echo held within its climb

in every coil, a whispered kinship glows

a borrowed form that nature knows—

a resonance in chambered stellar arcs

a symmetrical hum of living sparks

where life’s golden spiral cypher grows

around the spark the spirals climb

a dance of balance — new form with prime

each step recalling the step before

the natural balance keeping score

while matter turns into sublime

so the living world unwinds its thread

from heartbeat’s  pulse to a flower’s spread

each curve a story the cosmos sings

of how all beauty into motion springs —

from the golden spiral’s creation thread

rob kistner © 11/25/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™ art: “Taking Wing” by: rob kistner © 11/24/25

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The morning feels weightless today, as if the essence of gravity still sleeps. I move slowly through the house, each step soft, each motion carrying a faint shimmer of déjà vu. Nothing dramatic is a’stir— yet something inside me feels rearranged, like a constellation that shifted one star over in the night. I can’t name it, but I can sense it, the way you sense a change in weather before the a wind begins to lift.

My wife’s voice hums, barely above the whisper of the yarn she is carefully pulling through the tines of her loom— a new weave coming to life. The sound seems to float through the doorway like a thread of light, tying me to the moment with surprising gentleness. I pause and let it settle into me. It strikes me that transformation often arrives quietly, waiting for us to notice its presence.

Outside, the trees hold their breath. Moving through cirrus, the morning sunrise glances off the open window in soft, uneven pulses, as though the light itself is waking from a dream. I feel something in me drift toward deliverance— an inner door unlatched, a small release of stubborn resistance. Life doesn’t change in a rush; instead, it reveals its evolving shape in layers, each one asking to be trusted.

pale winter sunlight—

a crow lifts into the breeze

as if born of morn

rob kistner © 11/24/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™  art: “Breaking Day” by: rob kistner © 11/20/25

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there’s a moment

just before the morning sun

bursts over the mountain tops

when the whole world seems to pause…

holding its breath—

in a hush

older than memory

the sky glows a soft amber—

a quiet promise

rising from the grasp of night

then the light

begins to enfold you

a slow embrace at first

like a whisper warming the cool air

then widening

brightening

unfurling across the land

shadows thin and retreat

coastal grasses catch fire

smoldering aflame

ignited by sunrise

every tree stands stately and proud

in this first touch of morning

regal in topaz

you feel it inside you… too—

…that lift…

that opening of your inner sky—

as if something sacred is stepping forward

reminding you that beginnings are still possible

that you are an empowered being

and… that breathtaking beauty

still remembers your name

rob kistner © 11/20/25

Poetry at: dVerse

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A reflection on transcendence — crossing to a next-level existence…

Original DDE™  art: “The Crossing” by: rob kistner © 11/14/25

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there ahead

in a quiet corner of life

is a soul stirring scene

beautiful and serene

it’s Evermore Crossing

where the sky widens

where light ascends

where the wind smells of petrichor

sweet memory

and peace

where my burden will at last be stowed

in a sweet rejoining moment of release

there

a stone bridge rises

still and solid

silent as a sigh

spanning a stream of memories

sitting oh its stone shoulders

it sports a shawl

of mistied summer silver fogl

its arch casts a deep curved shadow

over this ribbon of crystal water

where fish of gold suspend

then slip slowly by

where sleek silvery fish flicker and flit

like fleeting familiar recollections

stirring odd surface reflections

occasionally breaking water

to capture glimpses—

of you and I…

of then

its waters

carry many precious memories

letting few be lost—

too steep

such cost

but rather

carefully collected

then carried onward

I approach gently

as evening light settles

around my weary shoulders

the world dimming just enough

to feel tender

to coax my blues— surrender

this bridge asks nothing—

it simply offers passage

its stones worn smooth

by the footsteps of time

by stories

of sorrows and joys

some I’ve heard

some I wrote

some I know well

some I’ll never hear

crossing feels like unraveling the fray

 loosening the grip of all I have endured

to let anguish lift away

the stream below

accepts every fallen leaf

every wandering reflection

without judgment — or rejection

reflections that shimmer

then drift beyond

Evermore

all to be collected

some later reflected

on the far bank

a rolling glade opens

of purest pale gold

comforting — welcoming

Glade of Evermore

its here the light changes—

becomes rounder

richer

gentler…

…soothing

as though being shaped

by an unseen hand

as though peace itself

has taken root

embracing the land

waiting—

for you

for me

to be here…

past the worry

beyond the fear

to: enlightenment

here there is a feeling

a feeling—

that I’ve been expected

a feeling it’s been too long

yet — a feeling I belong

that I have all along

it stirs my heart-song — son

it stirs that feeling

that deep searching feeling

that feeling of— together again…

that question of— when…

that longing for — home…

challenges still to defeat—  but…

…be there soon

rob kistner © 11/18/25

Poetry at: dVerse

You are about to witness a man, touch transcendence on a pure spiritual level — while singing out-of-body, like an absolute angel… WOW!!

• ***Please: click here to continue reading — MORE:

Original DDE™  art: “Sunrise” by: rob kistner © 11/17/25

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I coax a smile

in your waking hours

to lift the shadow from your eyes—

a glimmer of warmth

like a first ray of sunrise

my love

gentle and bright

to help the fragile curves

of your lips

catch the glow

of first light

rob kistner © 11/17/25

Poetry at: dVerse

I walked with you your 18 years, my son  —  now we walk alone.

Until we’re again step to step — I’ll always remember…

Original DDE™  art: “Bloom” by: rob kistner © 11/13/25

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you  come to me just like a gentle breeze

a sweet memory wafting through my day

this memory that blooms to fill my heart

your warmth comes in small familiar ways

in quiet moments filling me with ease

you  come to me a soft embracing breeze

a sweet memory wafting through my day

your voice still sings to lift me on my way

a calm that lifts the weight of memories

a lilting song that helps my heart find peace

you  come to me a soft embracing breeze

a sweet memory wafting through my day

this memory that blooms to fill my heart

rob kistner © 11/13/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™  art: “Love Lives There” by: rob kistner © 11/10/25

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Autumn winds skate across the valley, rattling bare tree branches like bamboo chimes. He pauses at the fence line, coat unbuttoned, looking across his field, breath rising in soft clouds. Behind their home, hills frosted in pewter mist.

She had loved these bare November days — the quiet between endings and beginnings. He used to tease her for it. Now, he finally understood.

“Not yesterday I learned to know the love of bare November days, before the coming of the snow,” he whispers, the words wafting from his lips — a prayer that sought no answer.

The camera of the world pulls back: a lone man, standing by a winter gray field, bathed in gentle moonlight. Then it focuses in again — to his trembling hands, his eyes moist with her memory. Transfixed, he faces homeward, the warm glow… lamplight? No — the embers of their enduring love.

rob kistner © 11/10/25

Poetry at: dVerse

“Nature is the proof of god, it’s there you can commune.”

Original DDE™  art: “Empty” by: rob kistner © 11/7/25

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religion drips slowly into the soul

like morphine

through a thin vein of doubt—

warmth spreading

to fill the emptiness

the painful void

it promises to hush the tremors of fear

turns tragedies into hymns

and sells the opioid of order

in a world that roils in chaos

religion is the needle’s soft whisper—

a promise of meaning

a ritual of release

the fantasy of escape

some awaken

aching for genuine connection

aching for truth

others keep dreaming

chasing that high of sacred certainty

eyes half-closed against the light

unaware of their addiction—

and somewhere between

the altar and the apothecary

we should become seekers—

seekers

not for gods

not for theocracies

not for concocted panaceas

not for isolating ideologies—

but to feel in balance

to feel whole

to feel one with the world

I want to feel stripped

bare

exposed

raw

I want to feel vulnerable

I want to feel… real

rob kistner © 11/7/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™  art: “Seabirds” by: rob kistner © 11/6/25

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dreams

like beautiful white seabirds

rise up

above the ocean’s shore

weightless

their wings sparkle

glinting

with salt and dawn-light

they sail

through morning fog

calling softly to the cliffs

to the pines that hold the sky aloft

when they descend .

to marry with the sea

each wave below

seems to fondle them

then lifts them to ascend —

as if the sea itself knows

their life to be on high

to circle where gulls cry

where the wind carries whispers

of what we once dared to be —

…free

and for a breathless moment

we rise with them —

soaring —  shining

part of everything

that cannot be caged

celebrating hollow bones…

and freedom

rob kistner © 11/6/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™  art: “Laundry Lander” by: rob kistner © 11/4/25

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my lunar laundry lander tumbles clean

through suds of silvery rainbow sheen

its a cool machine — blasts off in june

spin-cycle rockets it to the moon

buttons chatter — bubbles balloon

soap-clouds a’poppin’ — launchin’ soon

rinse— repeat — up’n round it’ll go

its a galactic cosmic laundry show

now you just might think me daft

but this is a most splendiferous craft

even when I’m way-way far out there

a rocket man still needs — clean underwear

rob kistner © 11/4/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™  art: “OCD” by: rob kistner © 11/3/25

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madness whips the trembling air

time loses its ever steady stare

as all once seen as solid —  loses hold

 reality spins — and perception folds

thoughts invade — reason thins

chaos laughs — upheaval grins

suddenly thinking is heavy as sin

facts jumble in a mental whirlwind

rob kistner © 11/3/25

Poetry at: dVerse