Author: Rob Kistner

Original DDE™ art: “Daylight” by: rob kistner © 1/15/26

—-<§>—-

the snap ignites chaos
as it slaps into my hands

closing my fingers tightly to the ball
I secure it deep into my palms
then up — tucking it firmly under my arm
I pull away from the center

a mighty cloud of dust rolls
and I roll
as bodies surge
pads collide
with brutal impact
that rings the ears
and chatters the teeth

guttural grunts erupt
to fill the air
combining with chuffs and growls
in an animal-like cacophony
of intense human effort

after taking the snap
and rapidly deciding my maneuver
I see a wall of humanity
thrashing and closing fast

helmets and shoulder pads
stacked like a barricade
crashing down on me
thrusting towards me as one

 just then — a little daylight
as a seam flickers open in the line
just enough—

I fix my eyes on it
and I explode through
hands gripping firmly the ball
heartbeat pounding in my ears

plant my leading foot
my first violent cut—
a defender stumbles—
falls

second gear—
my legs catch fire
I burn through 2 more tacklers

I veer left
sixty yards stretch out ahead
yard lines blurring beneath my feet
as I burst downfield

crowd noise dissolves into wind
breath sharp
vision narrows focus
as my one arm drives
the other guards the prize

a final shadow looms ahead
it rears up
dives at my knees—

damn
I’m dead—
but…
he’s missed

the end zone rises like a promise

with my lungs
thundering like a locomotive—
my legs pounding like jackhammers—
my mind racing like a rocket—
I cross the goal-line

in that very special moment
the world stops
and for a brief instant
all falls completely silent…
until…

yes! yes!
I’m screaming—
full throat

it’s then the roar washes over me
my arms shoot skyward
still cupping the ball in my right palm
like a steel vice

sweat and joy collide
as I realize
for one perfect moment
speed had become freedom

the world could not catch me

<~>

rob kistner © 1/15/26

Poetry at: dVers

 

Original DDE™ art: “Fairy Aurelian” by: rob kistner © 12/28/25

they say the breathtaking Faye
the Aurelian gilded Maid’nMuse
appears magicallyl
when the sun sheen is on the land
and earth’s glow thins into gold—

when summer exhales
releasing its last warm breath
and the seasons of the year
begin their quiet descent

she is a most sensuous waif
an earthen and lake spirit
who can spritely curl
small as a leaf
yet is wise as the oldest oak

her hair adorn with alder catkins
holds the color of flame
of September’s first fire—
amber at the tips
saffron at the scalp

the shade of a world transitioning
preparing to let go
with grace

Faye’s task is simple
but it is most sacred
as she directs her liege fairy — Hewwo
mistress of color transition

Hewwo — with her gentle fingertips
the size of a morning dew-drop
she very carefully
draws color into the leaves

*Original DDE™ art: “Hewwo25*

russet into the maples
saffron into the birch
wine into the oaks—
stubborn to yield—
thus she embraces her task
with zeal and fervor

every swirl of leaves
is Aurelian’s gentle breath
coaxing them tenderly
into their final dance

she walks with animals
of forest and field
preparing them for the longer nights
as she lays a hush on the land

she softens the sky
into a deeper blue
that promises a winter
without fear

those who glimpse her
feel a sudden peace—
a knowing
that this change is not loss

that endings can be beautiful
if held with a steady hand

Faye is the calm guardian
overseeing all gentle transitions
lovingly and mindfully

she is the keeper of the season
that teaches us all
how to release without regret

and when the last leaf falls
she curls into its hollow
—here she sleeps deeply
until the world again needs
her tender touch

<~>

rob kistner © 1/13/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

”God forgave me, figured I ought to too” — Johnny Cash

Original DDE™ art: “I Messed Up” by: rob kistner © 1/13/26

—-<§>—-

I chased the higher star
like it should be my witness
my validation

wanted the climb to prove
I was wiser—

that I was better—
that I was correct

even though my apologies
wore polished shoes
they had holes in the souls

I said
forgive me

but built a staircase into the words
so I could stand a step higher
when you looked back

I embraced it as maturity

but it was armor
protecting my ego–
saving my face

it was in fact
a prison—
a prison of arrogance

there were times
I wasn’t sorry—
not for the wound

only for how
it made me look

times I confused clarity
with being right
and mercy
with winning—

quietly

…but winning nonetheless

owning this
hurts more
than any fall from Grace
that ever put me in my place—
exposing my “raw”

I was blind to your pain
because I only saw this
from my side—from my pride

I have finally learned
but you have been burned

I know now
the higher star
is not a place afar—
not a summit

it is the courage
to kneel in the dust
— and say —
without defense

I was wrong

my friend
please forgive me

all my brothers
all my sisters
to whom I’ve been so foolish—

I am so — so sorry

<~>

rob kistner © 1/13/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™ art: “Good Morning Me” by: rob kistner © 1/12/26

—-<§>—-

in each morning mirror
I practice courage
lifting the corners of my doubt
to let my smile out

a smile’s not denial
it’s a bridge I employ
from yesterday’s ache
to coming joy

a flag of hope
I plant
in the day’s first hour

<~>

rob kistner © 1/12/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

“All things must pass”  —  George Harrison

Original DDE™ art: “When” by: rob kistner © 1/10/26

—-<§>—-

visit your memories frequently

or you will lose their friendship

and they took a lifetime to gather

<~>

 

I didn’t grasp

the impact of their going

the “never again” of it all

failed to mark it on a calendar

I really hadn’t known to

 

no bell rings

no curtain falls

no clarion calls—

 

it just happens

gradually

 

a quiet crossing

until— already out of sight

 

some I didn’t even see leaving

until they were gone

 

vanished — as into the night

 

I’m doing the thing I love

or the thing I must do

…for passion

…for health

…for safety

the way I always have

 

but now—

quiet grieving

 

muscle memory carrying me

like an old song

one I still know by heart

 

nothing feels different —

and that is the trick of it

the cold surprise

the cruelty

 

at first you don’t know

you don’t realize

 

joy— never announces its exit

strength— never begs apology

intuition— offers no farewell

clarity— bids no adieu

they just slink away

 

something that ignited my joy

or I shared with loved ones

family or friend

or that made my life work

 

gone — no goodbye

never again

 

I’ll reach for it

and find only air—

my hand closing on absence

not there—

but where

 

the tool

that once lived there

not gone dramatically —

it rather — departed unnoticed

frustratingly

 

simply — evaded my touch

escaped my use

now — just echoes

 

like a friend — moved away

leaving no forwarding address

just — gone

 

age keeps its receipts

health makes withdrawals

but I never approved

 

even small losses sting —

tying a shoestring

standing too long

why’d you crossed that room

 

now what was that perfect word

that wonderful song—

it’s gone

 

damn… I remember your face

think I recognize this place—

it’s all so absurd

 

each one

a quiet goodbye—

giving no real notice

 

I wish I had known

I would have tried they stay longer

let the moment linger

pressed it into memory

like a flower

 

but life never warns us

when we touch something sacred

for the final time

 

so…

I honor then now

honor them all

large and small

 

…that unmarked goodbye

…that ordinary miracle

…that friendly smile

…those last bright flames

before the night

closed in—

that unknown final time

 

softly…

stealthily…

without warning

without rhyme

 

<~>

 

rob kistner © 1/10/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Observations touching on awareness…

Original DDE™ art: “As Eye See It” by: rob kistner © 1/8/26

 

—-<§>—-

look for what is hidden

listen for what is silent

embrace the revelation

<~>

 

Awareness arrives before language, a hush that listens.

Breath becomes our first teacher, entering, leaving, never certain.

Consciousness curves around moments, seeing at first dimly.

Doubt flickers, but even doubt is noticed—and considered.

Each sensation announces itself, then bows away.

Form appears solid until probing attention pierces it.

Gaze inward, and the watcher quietly dissolves.

Hesitance needs name things, but awareness feels them first.

I am not the thought, I am the space it crosses to arrive.

Judgment loosens when seeing replaces deciding.

Knowing hums beneath belief, steady and wordless.

Light does not argue with shadow, it reveals.

Memory drifts through like weather, noticed, then not.

Now is not small—it holds everything.

Observer and observed blur at the edges.

Presence asks nothing, yet offers all.

Quiet widens until even silence is heard.

Reaction slows, becoming response, becoming choice.

Self is seen as expandable, not as static.

Time is forgotten when attention deepens.

Understanding blooms without explanation.

Vision clears when control fades.

What remains is simple, awake, sufficient.

X marks no end—only a crossing point.

Yielding reveals a deeper strength.

Zero distance remains between awareness and being.

 

Original DDE™ art: “I To Eye” by: rob kistner © 1/8/26

 

rob kistner © 1/8/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

~ a meditative realization ~

Original DDE™ art: ”The Stepping In” & “The Body Electric” by: rob kistner © 1/5/26

—-<§>—-

life is a chord continuum

no strummed beginning

no fading resolve—

only vibration resonating form

changing timbre through eternity

<~>

 

we are not born

we do not come from nothing

to become something

 

we step in

taking a different perspective

to resume what we are—

 

to resume what we always have been

at our core—

 

~ pure energy ~

 

energy…

pausing long enough

to take a body

to take a name

to mindfully observe—

 

to have a good metaphysical think

discuss encountered opinions

examine enlightenment

 

take a dimensional cognitive form

with which to explore

the temporal field—

experientially

 

time calls this a beginning

—birth

because time requires edges

 

but now

as we continue

as individual aware beings

nothing in us

embraces that story

for very long

 

its purpose—

as an aligned introduction

to the physical world…

eventually wanes

 

time is an eternal passage

temporal life is a hallway

through which we pass— slowly

 

the physical body is the vehicle

enabling us to touch the walls

to leave fingerprints—

of love…

of grief…

of music…

of art…

of poetry…

 

to encounter others

encountering us

Original DDE™ art: “Body Electric II” by: rob kistner © 1/5/26

what we call living

is simply attention paid

in our infinite forward motion

 

what we call our passing on

—death

is another of time’s edges

 

it is not disappearance

but release—

a reawakening

of our universal awareness

 

a turning

from this chosen temporal form—

a refocusing again on our eternal motion

 

nothing essential ends

energy does not retire—

 

it changes form

changes circumstance

changes perspective—

 

our temporal self

eventually becomes a stranger

in a physical world—

a world turned incompatible

to our expiring body…

strange to our eternal self

 

and so

 time sees it pass on—

as we resume

 

not as we’ve become

because we’ve always been—

 

an unbroken essence

of the body electric—-

 

in perpetual motion

of continuity—

 

and so — we resume…

 

<~>

 

rob kistner © 12/28/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Original DDE™ art: “Bringing It Out” by: rob kistner © 12/24/25

—-<§>—-

hand-picked

hard-gotten treasures—

this is most definitely personal

 

pristine one-eighth split birch

felled but just yesterday

in this high mountain stand

 

once dried and cured

they will burn

with the crackle

of nature’s pure energy—

 

and the heady aroma

of deep wilderness freedom

 

upon returning to our cabin

the axe and wedge splitting

of this pole-straight beauty

will be an intoxicating release

 

stacking it cord after cord

in neatly organized piles

between our back porch

and our hand-hewn cedar shed—

both now sadly mine alone…

this has become for me—

commemoration

 

a blessed preparation

of our near-holy ritual—

one you so loved…

 

stoking the fires

 

this is how this ceremony begins

feeling the fibers of the birch trunk

freely and readily acquiesce

 

opening to the insistence

of the honed steel edge

hammering down unrelenting

from the end of its 36” long

smooth— sure-grip handle

 

hearing the virgin wood

crack — tear… and splinter

under my well-placed impact

is as music to my ears—

 

and a balm for my sorrow

 

sadly — there are those

who pervert the sacrament

with internal combustion

and chained metal teeth—

 

but that is simply sacrilegious

 

the art and ceremony

of creating perfect firewood

by the craft of the hand

lifts my heart—

centers my soul

 

it is second only

to the precise and perfect

burning of the birch—

swooning to its divine aroma

…remembering

 

it is in the fire

in the flames

of this sacrament

that I burn—

 

…I burn for you!

 

rob kistner © 12/24/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

 

Original DDE™ art: “Waiting The Dawn” by: rob kistner © 12/26/25

—-<§>—-

 

the porch gathers the last of the day

around the quieting lake

boats tick softly against their moorings

lake light loosening into evening

 

we clean our gear without hurry

letting success settle into our hands

 

rustling north woods birch ring the water

pale and still — excited by the breeze

their reflections broken by gentle wake

and above them — the sky opens

 

green threads drifting — unannounced

 

we speak of our coming home

quietly

the narrow channel from our last lake

water too shallow for speed

the depths demanding attention

 

ice age boulders / logs / and stumps

have shut many a fishing trip down

prematurely and sadly

shearing a prop mercilessly

 

care — and a damned sharp eye

in tangent with a free oar

is the magic of the day

 

respect the potage both ways

and it will grant you passage

 

today we made it

we stayed — we fished

boat breathed peaceful below us

 

but soon night was arriving

exactly on time

as we headed for home dock

 

as we gratefully approached

dusk was settling peacefully on the porch.

boats soon rocking — impatient

lake hushes itself around them

as we wipe rods — loosen reels

listening to the eerie calls of the loons

hands still warm with the day’s work

 

white birch line the far shore

stand quietly — listening

and above them —the sky

begins its slow green speech

magical aurora lifting again

like breath through leaves

 

 talk about tomorrow—

reflecting once again

on the narrow way through

the shallow water

that won’t forgive haste

 

the careful portage ahead

not as worry, just remembering—

knowing

 

the night agrees to hold us

boats and plans

bobbing in the northern lights

 

canada settling in

while the cabin warms and sooths us

and waits

a wait quietly earned

 

rob kistner © 12/25/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Original DDE™ art: “Down — Ever Down” by: rob kistner © 12/25/25

—-<§>—-

I rocket into motion

where slick outruns sanity

 

touch comes—

vanishes

velocity carries the argument

gravity waits in hush

 

white-barked birches blur by

control struggles to grip

exhilaration grasps my soul

 

for a breath

I am speed molding form

alive—

in this frigid rush

 

rob kistner © 12/25/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™ art: “Carving The Drop” by: rob kistner © 12/23/25

 

—-<§>—-

staring out the jump door at 10,000 feet

is absolutely breathtaking — literally

a mix of excitement and terror

 

am I stone cold crazy…!

 

but— I step cleanly into nothingness

trained calm replacing panic

body already choosing direction

 

wind rises fast— a living wall

whistling pitch climbing into a hard

beastly roar around my helmet

 

speed gathers like intention

air thickens— sculptable

something I can lean against

 

I angle a shoulder… roll a hip…

and the fall answers— obedient

precise…exhilarating

 

the sound sharpens—

no  fluctuation now—

a continuous pressing roar

 

velocity etching into muscle

the suit ripples and snaps

seams vibrating like strings

 

I cut left— then steepen

drawing curves through sky

as if sketching with my spine

 

cloud fragments shred past

jump suit slapping loudly now

I’m gone before thought follows

 

below— earth rushes upward

in disciplined layers… grids…

earthen veins resolving cleanly

 

wind claws louder— rocketing down

a tunnel of compressed force

frugal breath synced to motion

 

I spread my arms— flatten briefly

surfing the column to dive again

committing fully to pure descent

 

control becomes instinct

altimeter rolls like slot machine

only angle… tension… flow remain

 

five hundred feet waits

but not yet— this is the …stretch…

the long final sentence of the drop

 

the air respects precision

yielding to coaxed steering

blistering speed without chaos

 

I carve one last line

through open  cloudless sky

laughing inside the thunder

 

as I reach 500 ft above ground

I yank the cord… jerk upright

my body hit hard by the jolt

 

but then all becomes a drift

only the natural sound of wind

as my world settles

 

I calm my thoughts

looking around me

so beautiful

 

just a few more feet

and it is terra firma baby

then a few grateful steps

 

I fall back in the grass

let the tension drain away

slowly steady my breathing

 

and a few tears

relief —pure genuine joy

a wild yowl of exhilaration

 

rob kistner © 12/23/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

 

 

~ morning is meaning — evening is feeling ~

GERTRUDE STEIN PARAPHRASED

Original DDE™ art: “Evening” by: rob kistner © 12/18/25

 

—-<§>—-

evening gathers the loose ends

of a day half-understood—

 

just as december

the season’s evenimg

gathers the year to be contemplated

 

sunset’s lights blink on

one by one

like encouragement

 

extinction of useful light

only as it serves

emerging twilight

 

I carry fatigue

the way a coat is carried—

as cautionary… not defining

 

somewhere laughter survives

plants lean toward water

and tomorrow practices arriving

 

I set down expectations

pick up wonder again

and let silence finish the sentence—

 

to be reminded…

life is a gift

that rest is not quitting

and love need not shout

to be real

 

rob kistner © 12/16/25

Poetry at: dVerse