beauty – Image & Verse

Persistent

Original DDE™ art: “Kingfisher” by: rob kistner © 1/5/26

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The epiphany came to him at the river’s bend, where water forgot its hurry and learned to slow down, listening. On this Pacific Northwest morning, fog lifted like a curtain, revealing stones smoothed by centuries of insistence. He had come looking for answers, but the river offered only motion—constant, unarguable, patient.

A kingfisher cut the air, focused and sudden, striking the river’s surface — then rising again with nothing. Failure, the man realized, was not embarrassment here. The bird simply returned to the branch — alert, unashamed, ever-vigilant. In this he understood — nature did not measure worth by outcome, only by endeavor. To genuinely apply oneself was enough.

As the sun warmed him, he felt the old weight loosen. Trees stood without apology. The river ran unabashed. He left the water’s edge seemingly unchanged, but something essential had shifted. The world was not asking him to be certain, only to be fully present—to keep moving, even when empty-beaked, toward the next bend.

stone keeps the river

learning the shape of patience—

time blinks — stone remains

Original DDE™ art: “Maybe Next Time” by: rob kistner © 1/5/26

rob kistner © 1/5/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Mean Green

Original DDE™ art: “Go Ducks” by: rob kistner © 12/28/25

—-<§>—-

at the snap

the play pulses alive—

go now — trust your training

shred the space around you

thunder green surges left

lightning yellow flashes right

then cuts sharp downfield

behind the defenders

helmets glinting in the sunlight

wings swepted back

the lone O burning at the crown

blue crowds the edge

scarlet red creeping

as the snap jets back to the QB—

madness ignites

pads are slappin’ hard

the collisions on the field

are resonating their impact

to the last row of the stadium

the crowds constant roar is deafening

just a typical fall Saturday at Autzen

I arc wide tearin’ up the turt

fast as thought — fluid as money

my emerald and gold — a blur

streaking the sideline

like a blood oath kept

the ball arrives from nowhere—

tight spiral

bright as promise

and locks into my eager hands

first hit comes—

blue and red thunder

rumbles into my ribs

I turn — dip — cut — then bolt

leave him grasping air

second tackle comes hot—

scarlet helmet — bad angle

speers me violently

his shoulder pads at my knees

I spin — stiff-arm — glide — sprint away

roarin’ towads paydirt

knees carving poetry into turf

my mean green

winged warriors surround me

this nasty battalion blazes down the field

clearing out any foe with a bad intention

crowd detonates

time dissolves

all and only end zone ahead

painted in glory—

the promised land

I cross standing tall

speed still burning

the joyful chaos of the team mob sceen

erupting from end zone

to sideline

through every fan at Autzen

the cacophony amps up even further

it’s the beginning of the 4th quarter

fans, team, and coaches

all freakin’ to — Shout!

what an amazing sight and feeling

Oregon exploding

burning deeper and deeper into legend

rob kistner © 12/28/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Plenty Enough

Original DDE™ art: “Gilded” by: rob kistner © 12/4/25

—-<§>—-

abundance is not a storehouse

or a vault

sealed in the dark

nor a fertile field

brimming with grain

not if a needy child

a hungry child

or anyone as such

may not enter

or share

it is not the bright idea of “plenty”

claimed by the few

guarded like treasure

while the world waits outside—

gate closed

abundance requires access—

requires the sharing hand

requires availability for all

like air

like sunlight

like rain that does not choose

which fields to bless

if a foolish world

stores mountains of food

but desperate mothers

still measure meals in worry—

then… what we call abundance

is only hoarding—

dressed in finer clothes

when people sleep on concrete

when bodies go unhealed

when bare unwashed feet

meet the sting of winter asphalt

when a just call for

critical help

goes unheeded

when true starvation

causes anyone unbearable pain

or excruciating death…

the “lie” of distance becomes obvious—

as if abundance can live “over there”

and still mean something here

true abundance is local

immediate

shared

it is not a rumor of plenty

but a presence of enough

in our own rooms

in our own hands

in the widened circle

where no one is left outside

abundance begins with an open gate—

not with the locked door

behind which a fatted few sit

counting their gold

eating there filet mignon

swilling their fine wine

~ no ~

it must live in the daylight

in the place where hands meet freely

where people come together

in the promise that enough

belongs to all

in the promise to care for each other

in the promise to care for our shared home

earth

you can pile food past the horizon

stack medicine to the ceiling

let good clothing gather

in towers of folded grace—

if it never reaches the people

who hunger

who ache

who shiver

then plenty is only a dark shadow

pretending to shine

true abundance is tangible

not rumor—

a chorus of shared opportunity

a fairness declared

a deeply rooted equality

it’s the way we lift each other

from the dim corners of need

abundance is not a closed fist

it is an open hand—

it is love

a rhythm of grace

a human tide of love

moving outward

making room

making a difference

giving of yourself

letting not one soul

stand outside

wanting

rob kistner © 12/4/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Autumn Enchantment

ForestFaye Amberline bewitching Summer to return…

Original DDE™ art: “Autumn Dress” by: rob kistner © 12/2/25

—-<§>—-

Amberline whispers beneath her coral foliage

her longing permeates the fresh autumn air

sweet summer — her red lips bid him come

prays his footsteps quickly find her there

she is enticing in her lush autumn dress

her love glows hot in season’s longer nights

she dreams of footsteps hurrying up the hill

of summer bending close — kisses she invites

though the wind sprites are restless on the hill

Amberline hopes he’ll soon be at her side

to come and satisfy her hungry soul

and join her where her turning colors glide

she feels him linger in her warm golden light

warmth she’ll share if he but holds her tight

she knows he soon must yield to colder night

spreads her arms — offering to sooth his plight

to share her heart

where steady embers burn

Amberline waits in silence

dreaming he’ll return

Amberline swirls her dancing leaves to message him

yes — seasons turn but our love need never fray

this mayn’t be what nature understands — but come

my warm autumn heart will surely find a way

rob kistner © 12/2/25

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™ art: “Amberline — Peak Autumn Dress” by: rob kistner © 12/2/25

No Escape

Run turkey, run!

Original DDE™ art: “No Escape” by: rob kistner © 11/27/25

—-<§>—-

turkey puffs its chest

knowing its fortunes — have been in better shape

hoping for the best

looking so well dressed

all while plotting — a dramatic great escape

sides all closing in

cranberries are laughing — giddy as a loon

gravy wears a grin

biscuits leap right in

mashed and stuffing hum a crazy little tune

turkey tries to flee

wishing it could blend in — at least for a while

it can not get free

fate’s made its decree

this poor birdy’s night — will not end with a smile

first he stopped to preen

posing like he’s modeling for fame

glowing bronze and lean

centerpiece-serene

till someone whispers, “Its time to baste again

he denies defeat

while he is tucked tightly in the baking pan

folding in his feet

grumbling, “Ain’t that sweet?”—

fighting to the end — this awkward human plan

the main meal is done

leftovers all are stored — in the fridge their placed

snacking has begun

feel I weigh a ton

turkey’s bowing out — lost to a butter baste

last he lifts his head

and offering just a shrug of dignity

“Make the gravy red,

keep my spices spread”—

I accept my culinary destiny

rob kistner © 11/27/25

Poetry at:

The Edge

Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “The Edge” by: rob kistner © 8/15/24

Standing at the edge
feeling far below
the great tides

the ebb and flow
the rise and fall

the come and go of centuries
of millenniums
wave by wave
day by day
as it has always been

this might incarnate
this power of indifference
this surge of perfect apathy

and I
as insignificant as the grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
dragged helpless in the undertow

a great froth crested wave
rises up in beckon
the silk of azure blue
draped smoothly down its sloping back
as it dances on the deep

how easy I could slip
into that fathomed realm

down
down
ever down
into the waiting silence
without so much a noticed sound
quiet as a breaking heart

absorbed into the churn and roar
without so much a ripple
to disturb the steady surf

a subtle crease
irrelevant
erased
even as it came

rob kistner © 2011
originally linked at Magpie Tales

More poetry at: dVerse

Patience

T he chest of the wave
slams the massive boulders
the steadfast rocks resist
yet they will be sand

*
rob kistner © 2022

More Zen poetry at: dVerse

The Return

Although here in my Seattle home, I am only 200 miles away from my Oregon, the fact that health has prevented me from returning for a number of years, and makes it impossible for me to ever again trek the breathtaking wilderness of that region, that lives so vividly in my memories — it feels that it might as well be on the other side of the country, in a beautiful, unreachable dreamscape. This envisioning I’ve written here of my return is presented from that perspective. It is likely also sparked, in no small way, by a subconscious wish that I could return to the robust health I enjoyed most of the 25 years I lived and explored in Oregon, discovering and falling in love with its precious beauty.

”It is not down in any map; true places never are.” — Herman Melville

Across the chasm of time
and great distance
memories unfold
vividly rich
like elaborate origami sculptures
as the paper of this odd map
unfolds bewilderingly before me

even ‘cross this flat
boring land spread
I see in my mind’s eye
soaring ramparts
of sky-piercing mountains
forested tier upon tier
with enormous sitka spruce

scattered brewers
known as the weeping spruce
the most beautiful of the conifer
whose branches in summer
display sunlight
as a jeweler’s velvet
showcases gems

the whispers
of wind-stirred
lawson cypress
towering ponderosa pine
and douglas fir
waft down emerald climbs

tangerine-scented white fir
a fragrance rivaled only
by the rough-tufted red cedar

the dogwood’s brilliant leaves
big-leaf maples
pendulous western maples
tight ranks of dark-green sadler oak

the golden shimmer
and crisp crackle
of white-barked aspen

these live and breath
boldly in my heart
calling me forward

this morning’s sun comes crisp and bright
enfolding my waking in warmth
and vivid presence
the world fresh and fascinating

I embark toward noonday
the joy of homecoming palpable
senses saturated and alive
blissfully consumed
by a deep satisfaction
that permeates this afternoon

my soul is full
my mind is clear
my heart — overflowing

as dusk descends upon this place
painting its heady grace and expectation
my pace is smooth and steady
the downing sun — a gentle gold embrace

early shadows fall soft across my face
as vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes its comfort ’round my shoulders
splendid calm envelops me

yet there are other shadows
strange distractions
that disrupt my moments
they come unannounced
almost imperceptible

but I follow close
without fear
the way blazened in my mind
and there is still far to go

I am eager to journey
drawn by the beauty
that is the rising moon in sunset

facing into the evening breeze
I venture onward

rolling amber and coral
spreads across the horizon

again the shadows shift
dull confusion finds me
I lose my pace and focus

but I do not heed
this temporary distraction
nor the suggestions of this creased parchment
unfurled before me

for it is not what will lead me home
I do not let it sway or stray me
for my heart knows the way

yet
nagging concern
disquiets me
a stab of panic
pierces my solace
have I been gone too long
will it feel the same

unwelcome bewilderment
grips me
holds me
uncomfortable in my skin

a cloud of frustration
sweeps over me
obscuring briefly
my purpose and destination

then the fog wafts
and again I envision
across the veiled valley
of time
my hearth and home

twilight is coming
much too quickly
and my concern
at first a nuisance — mounts

a gathering feeling
gnaws inside
fear I will not make it home
before this sunset

I am afraid
to lose this evening light
that leads my way

but my way
is not on this map
not on any map
it lives in my heart
and in my soul

this calms the disturbance
of my reverie
quiets my mind
brings my fear to settle
as the ease of remembered beauty
and warmth of home
swell my soul

ahead are the mountains
and forests of my Oregon home
where I finally return
to reclaim my heart
this day

now I have
such sweet recall
pulling me forward
urgently

even in the faded light
of many distant memories
these visions have held me breathless
soon I will gaze upon them again

I redouble my pace

Poetry at: The Sunday Muse

Poetry at: Earthweal

Little jazz tune from Sanborn entitled “Comin’ Home”… plus a little Keith magic!

https://youtu.be/k84QxVJd0tIp

Northwest Autumn

It is three weeks until Autumn Equinox 2022. I first wrote and published this piece in 2008, significantly revised it in 2018, sharing it again on dVerse in response to a wonderful prompt by Amaya Engleking. I now have further refined it in small ways, and choose to share it again here in 2022. Much has changed in the 14 years since I first wrote this, but not my love for the Pacific Northwest, and most especially — Oregon. It is in the light of this abiding love, that I now share this piece once more here on dVerse, for OLN, September 1st, 2022. Peace!

Autumn is upon us, as we enter our season of nature’s rest and replenishment here in the Pacific Northwest. The cycle of renewal will begin in western Oregon, where I lived for 25 years. I moved in 2015 to Seattle to be near my young grandson. Still immersed in Pacific Northwest beauty here, but Oregon will always hold my heart.

The summer’s dry period has ended, and agricultural irrigation has ceased. Harvesting explodes in October into November, including the grape harvest in our many vineyards. Following the gathering of this autumn bounty, the soil is left to recover. The fruit and nut trees, the vines in the vineyards, and the crop fields will begin the slow period of winter revitalization, in anticipation of the growing seasons to come in the new year. The Great Mandala of life turns steady. The rains that begin sporadically in late October, increasing into November, will work their magic — plumping Oregon’s world-class Christmas tree and holly crops, renewing the sparkle of these holiday icons, readying them for harvest.

Wild nature will also enter a period of recovery and renewal. The flowering plants that have dropped their petals, and the grasses and brush, gone late-summer golden, seek these nurturing rains. Mighty evergreens pause, conifers drop their cones, and deciduous trees shed their leaves all go dormant, and rest. The vast Northwest forests are enriched by this period of rejuvenation.

Streams, whose water levels have dropped considerably, will come to new life when rains begin to replenish their flow. Sockeye and Chinook salmon start their run upstream to begin their spawn. Rainbow, Brook, German Brown, and Cutthroat Trout, as well as numerous other species become active as waters rise and cool. Bear, deer, cougar, elk, coyote, big horn sheep, pronghorn antelope, hawk, osprey, eagle; the varied and plentiful wildlife of our region begin preparation for their unique winter rituals.

Autumn nudges into winter, a peaceful time of rest and restoration here in this breathtakingly beautiful region. A regenerative calm lies upon the lush land, as the season of sky-water arrives to quench nature’s thirst, and revivify her energies in this utopia.

Just as the gardener
nurtures her tend
bending close
to nourish
and protect

so too nature stoops
to embrace
and refresh
her pacific northwest paradise

her autumn shadow upon the land
she leans down
and lets flow life-giving waters
to enrich this lush realm

she covers her beloved eden
in a soft blanket
of moist cloud

a shelter from chilled winter
to insure a rich bounty
when spring returns

abundant fruits
vegetables
and nuts

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hill-climbing vineyards

towering trees
too numerous to imagine

endless grasses
bushes
berries
and flowers

all will be spring succulent
from buildiing winter waters

mountain streams
valley rivers
swell with migrating fish

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as they journey home
up these fresh waters
of new birth

birds and animals
flock and gather
embraced by this season
of quiet replenish

in balanced step
and close harmony
with this cycle
they too
will welcome next spring
with plentiful new life

a sustaining love
this affair

life
nurtured to flourish
in the eventual spring

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*

published: rob kistner © 2008
revised: rob kistner © 2018
final revision: rob kistner © 2022

* More poetry at: dVerse

photos (top to bottom):

Autumn at Multnomah Falls, Oregon

Oregon Autumn rain on conifer needles

Autumn at Sokol Blosser Vineyards, Willamette Valley Oregon

Sockeye salmon, Deschutes River, Oregon

Autumn Cascade Mountain Lake, Oregon

Finish Line

This song by Sarah McLachlan, “In The Arms Of An Angel” always makes me break down. He is my son, Aaron Robert Kistner. Hearing this song takes me deep into memories of my sweet angel. My son Aaron died in his 18th year, just prior to entering college to study music. He was a very handsome, kind, and gentle young man – and a fabulous singer. I miss him so, everyday. I ache to hold him close just once more — to hear his beautiful voice. I wrote this poem very shortly after his tragic death in a horrible auto accident.

In loving memory of my son, Aaron Robert Kistner: 11/4/76 – 7/3/95

This is my favorite picture of you son,
the one I treasure most
since your passing.

A simple snapshot,
taken at the airport,
upon your return
from having run the New York City Marathon.

A gentle, triumphant smile,
eyes beaming behind those ‘cool’ shades,
jacket sleeves rolled in casual hip-ness,
bag gripped firm and steady in your left hand,
medal dangling proudly from your strong neck.

The victor: gentle, cool, hip, carefree, proud, and strong,
– fiercely handsome!

How profound this captured moment proved to be.

Taken just before the finish line of your 18 years,
it said it all.

Your race is run,
your bag is packed,
your reward’s in hand.

Fly my sweet angel – fly!

Waltz of Youth

W ith the heft and smooth sheen
of the beautiful sculpted body
caressed lovingly
between her nubile legs
her excitement stirs
her anticipation grows

eager and confident
she lays tingling hands upon it

engaging the sure strength
of her lithe knowing essence
and the firm deft touch
of her pristine fingers
the brilliant young cellist
ignites the dance

strong slender legs
carry firm yearning bodies
perfumed and cologne’d
around and across
the crowded dance floor
pulses alive

budding passion
craving — yet hesitant
swept up in innocent bliss

the waltz of youth
rising and falling
to the rich give and take
of the cellist’s bow

she lifts the energy
coaxing the passion
of the beautiful dance

with her nimble sway
and precision movements
delicately she envisions
the flowing notes

lovely face
in rhythmic expression
eyes sometimes closed
she dreams the music

wholly consumed
by the seductive strains
the enlivened dancers
sweep round and round
bodies a’glisten
in smoldered embrace
bathed in the chandelier’s
golden glow

further fired by stolen kisses
and breathy whispers
of promised love
and naive forevers

dawning lives
in the tender grasp
of blooming desire
and the velvet touch
of mad magical
magnificent music
*
rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: Sunday Muse

…a little “out of this world” music…

Sweetest Taboo

S ucculent nectar of full plumped peach
laid bare engorged deliciousness
peeled open in promised sweet delight
ecstatic vision of tender flesh

tart sweet tingle at tip of tongue
such sweetness surely is taboo
my mouth thrills at the juicy pulp
my lips glisten sweetest nectar’s dew

breathing in the rich bouquet
all senses teased and tantalized
my mouth devours the dripping treat
again and again ‘til satisfied

Poetry at: dVerse

Bridge of Truth

The music is a key element of my expression here…
FE6468E4-DB21-4AC2-AE47-A151350888DD

P ossessed of all it is I am
I sigh a sigh of longing
I feel empty sad and very old
I seek to fill my barren soul

~across the bridge of truth~

I seek not a kingly right
nor scepter gold to rule a realm
worldly wealth I do not need
love’s enlightenment I seek

Poetry at: dVerse

https://youtu.be/cpPSBzGEklE

~ A live bonus from Pauly! ~

Seductive Fantasy

…a stream of consciousness trip…

Soaring psychedelic
colors pierce my eyes
to bleed into my mind
pulsing into shapes
and melting forms
dancingly irregular
a brilliant cacophony
of fully beautiful discord
that flows in time displacement
blared breathing blending abstract

wow dude!
~~ drifting drifting ~~

so wondrous and magical
as to create a dreamspace
where reality steps away
to a seductive fantasy
that roils and broils
a seething serenade
of sounds and vision
a sanctified vibration

simply too gone!
immaculate!

joyful noise’d orblets
flaring and flashing
in hues and shades
in timbre’d cadences
they spark stiletto sharp
stabbing staccato’d stealthy
and again colors pierce my eyes
lovely rumblings fill full my ears
shifting spinning and floating
to journey a’new through
my beautiful bountiful
and utterly blown
mind garden

}|=|{

psssst! hey! you!
am I conscious man —
— or halluuucinating truuuth?

Day 1 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021

Sorrow

…born in water, in water she’s swept away…

Beauty sings to the sea — love’s tone
on this broken, cloud-covered day
slipping into the surge alone
silently, she kicks away

on these broken, cloud-covered days
alone with her fractured wishes
she drops so silently ‘neath the waves
deep, deep down to the fishes

alone with her fractured wishes
a’tumble in the seabed’s sway
down down deep with the fishes
she is leaving it all today

sorrow’s a’swim in the seabed’s sway
beauty’s nothing left to say
she is leaving this lonely world, today
the sea will sweep her away

*Check out: Joy’s Pantoum

https://youtu.be/K5oAf7bs7_U