Pepper’d Memories

 

Yes — I was the walrus
so too the fool on the hill
I was the nowhere man
sometime I feel nowhere still

but when the Fab4 took the stage
and raised their voice in song
they roused my golden slumber
my spirit sang along

I strolled to strawberry fields
along sweet penny lane
and when miss Rigby died
I felt McKenzie’s pain

stowed in the submarine
and sailed beneath the waves
down with the octopus
among the coral caves

and when the sergeant
struck up his lonely hearts club band
I fell in step by step
to march off to Pepperland

but before I’d hit the road
I ended up wounded in my bed
a delinquent name of Maxwell
took a hammer to my head

he’d come through the bathroom window
I forgot to shut it tight
I should have known better
but it’d been a hard day’s night

my friends had called for help
doctor Robert came in time
I’d said doc don’t let down
he did not — and I feel fine

cops searched helter skelter
looked here there and everywhere
but they found clues for no one
I said let it be I didn’t care

leaving home, you won’t see me
I said heading out the door
when I saw her standing there
my lover from the night before

oh darling let’s go day trippin’
I want to hold your hand
down this long and winding road
it won’t be long to Pepperland

now we’ve come together here
me and my sweet belle Michelle
she’s been writing paperback novels
the kind the drugstores sell

we have no plans to get back
we’re swept up in the allure
of Lucy and her diamond skies
on our magical mystery tour

even with George and Johnny dead
that old magic’s not yet slipped away
because old Paully‘s discovered AI
so a brand new tune is on the way

it will be so very cool
to hear them once again
to remember those wondrous days
get to relive them now and then

*
rob kistner © 4/5/11
expanded version: rob kistner © 6/13/23

Poetry at: dVerse

 


https://youtu.be/oz3JlMhgfq0

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!

*
rob kistner © 1995

 

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…

 

To Us


To all d’Verse poets — Salùte!

 
L et us drink deep
this wine of friendship
ripened well with time
aged to a vintage true

may this nectar rare
sweeten all our days
may its heady warmth
linger long and lush
lighten life’s burdens
and ever lift our spirits

here’s to us!

rob kistner © 2021

More poetry at: dVerse


 

The Gift


 
The Gift

~

unworthy fool am I

to ignore it
to abuse it
to mistreat it
to misuse it
to mishandle it at every turn

no way am I deserving

yet over and over
you lay it at my feet
to protect each step
on life’s harsh road

time after time
you wrap it round me
as shelter
from sorrow’s storm

again and again
it nurtures and sustains me
on my journey through
the wastelands of the lonely

this light
this precious treasure

no way do I deserve
but forever will I cherish
your soul gift
of selfless love

would I could give you
such a gift in return
it would be my purest
my most unselfish gift

a gift golden as the sun
tied in a tinsel of stars
to nurture you always
to keep you radiant

my most precious gift
of a love supreme

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2019

 

32AD0E85-B0A5-4D6D-B19A-E51CD04E0C53DAY 7

Clarion Stones

  • revised for Lillian at dVerse Poet’s Pub


     
    Clarion Stones

    ~

    all those years ago
    in the time of dangers
    they were placed in secret
    as a silent beacon
    in that deepest night

    waiting for the day
    when the shadowed world
    would waken from the nightmare
    shed its narrow petty ways
    and embrace the way of light

    stacked by those of vision
    blessed in hope and courage
    one upon the other
    like knowledge upon learning
    these standing stones of peace

    hear them call across the ages
    and beckon us to rise
    to step into the future
    to envision a new dream
    to let fear and hatred cease

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revision © 1/22/19)


    67F4B295-9233-407D-934F-9CA3C5A2B3F5
    stacked stones in Sedona red-rock desert

    _______________________

    These sculptures are called cairns. A cairn is a human-made balanced stack of stones. The word cairn comes from the Scottish Gaelic: càrn. Cairns have been, and still are used for a broad variety of purposes, from prehistoric times to the present. They are stacked as landmarks, direction finders, memorials, and also spiritual reasons, among other purposes.

  • Check out more shedding at dVerse:

    Shed some light on this today!

  • Daredevil’s Dread

     

    Daredevil’s Dread

    ~

    to be shot from a cannon
    into the cool night air
    is really no big deal

    to face a barrage
    of flying knives
    isn’t really that unreal

    to leap through the fire
    of a flaming hoop
    the warmth is kind’a nice

    jumping giant chasms
    on two-wheeled fury
    sure – let’s do it twice

    to be blown up
    in a speeding car
    sort’a turns me on

    falling 20-story
    from a skyscraper
    I’m up over and gone

    riding upside down
    on an airplane wing
    it’s the only way to fly

    the high trapeze
    without a net
    I wouldn’t bat an eye

    buried alive
    in a padlocked tomb
    count 10 and I’ll cheat death

    chained in steel
    tossed in the sea
    no need to hold my breath



    the sphere of fear
    the dome of doom
    the bungee-cord freefall

    to walk blazing coals
    swallow deadly swords
    no sweat — I’ve done them all

    almost nothing scares
    this bold daredevil
    I am very proud to say

    save the single thing
    of which I’m terrified

    to give my heart away



    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2010
    (revised © 2018)

    ____________________________________

  • top 2 photos: Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus
  • bottom photo: source unknown
  • Evening Prayer

    3664ACBA-225E-498E-A19F-02F2111C389C

     

    Evening Prayer

    ~

    sun sits low on the horizon
    dusk slowly advances
    the breath of night begins to stir
    all the daydreams are gone to bed

    I sit quiet
    on my ole bench
    soothed by the cool breeze
    warmed by the memories
    that huddle ’round me

    from far into the past
    they drift
    forward through the years

    they visit gently
    one by one

    memories of those
    I’ve been well to know
    those I’ve been blessed to love
    those that have got beyond
    a tender tear for every one

    a sweetness fills the air
    just a touch of soft regret

    my heart is full
    my spirit calm
    I surrender
    to fate’s embrace

    would this evening never end
    but soon
    the lingering day
    will bow its head
    twilight too will fade

    as the waxing night
    blankets my repose
    I fall still
    and pray

    pray
    when soon carried away
    it be in deep
    peaceful sleep

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Yet

  • inspired by the first day I met my wife in 1987…

     

    Yet

    ~

    had she not appeared in that clearing
    so lost

    had she not crossed my threshold
    on that september day

    had not her voice
    drifted like silk on a summer breeze
    to wrap sheer and sweet
    around my heart

    had not I been drawn
    like a bloom to the morning sun

    had not I been captivated
    as a hummingbird
    by a drop of nectar
    crystal on a velvet petal

    had not my love come down
    soft as a rolling mountain meadow

    had not this dream been born

    had not my life begun again

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

  • Two Moments

    These are two poems about two powerful and indelible life-moments I shared with my son Justin.

    The first “Night Sky” is about the courageous moment he chose, at age fourteen, to leave his mother’s home to move across our country, to live with me in Oregon — through the years of his high school and college graduations, and his early career. This was an incredible gift he gave me.

    The second, “Book of Days”, is about the moment, two days ago, when he and his wife Christine, moved from Oregon to pursue a career advancement — a deeply bittersweet moment for me.

     

    Night Sky

    •

    you arrived in spring
    asking why I’d left

    I had no good response
    but the other shoe had fallen
    with a deafening thud
    so what was I to do

    you looked startled by life
    and asked me about sorrow

    I had no good response
    so I took you in
    and watched as you untangled truth
    marveling at your balance

    for 19 years
    together we watched the night sky
    and wondered about love

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011


    Book of Days

    •

    in the book of days
    clearly it is written
    your time for moving on
    beyond the reach of yesterday

    in this book of days
    so too is it written
    clearly mine grow short
    my grasp loosens on tomorrow

    our miles apart grow greater
    our time together lessens
    as you pursue the future
    I slip further in the past

    and per the book of days
    this is the way of nature
    the son becomes the father
    the father bows away

    yet stands this father’s dream
    would that this space between
    but vanish with this pain
    of bittersweet farewell

    that the book somehow rewritten
    would bend both time and space
    and my days once more
    stretch full to your horizon

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Wonder

     

    Wonder

    •

    to grow up
    is to chase off
    our innocence
    our naïve belief
    in the world as a beautiful place
    to harden against the magic
    of our childhood dreams

    but if by chance
    we can cling to just one
    perhaps we can hold on
    to our precious sense of wonder

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • photo: “Alice in Wonderland” by Yuki Valentine

    Heartfire (redux)

    …I did a gentle edit and rewrite of this poem from a year ago,
    in response to the May 2nd prompt at Big Tent Poetry

     

    HeartFire

    •

    the velvet nape
    of your slender neck
    swept with wisps
    of silken hair

    the tender swell
    of your pouted lips
    blossomed full
    in comely glisten

    your quiet sighs
    of smouldered passion
    hushed and low
    in twilight deep

    sterling moonlight
    that fondles you
    in slumber nude
    ‘neath midnight’s window

    autumn sunrise
    crisp and fresh
    blushed coral
    on your waking smile

    sunlight’s gold
    that falls dreamlike
    filtered soft
    in old growth forest

    unspoiled nature
    to far horizons
    from where I gaze
    on mountain’s crest

    christmas eve
    a quiet snow
    fresh fragrant cedar
    my child’s joy

    splendid jazz
    inspired verse
    an evening breeze
    a soul-felt tear

    pristine beaches
    pacific sunsets
    silvered waterfalls
    laughter with you

    what fires my heart
    what stirs my soul
    what turns me on
    these are a few

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    Fret Not

    …written for Day #30, NaPoMo 2011…

     

    Fret Not

    •

    people are consumed
    by endings
    speak of their finality
    their permanence
    their absoluteness

    but I say no

    in this age of recycling
    repurposing
    sequels
    syndication
    spin-offs
    botox
    rogaine
    viagra
    endings are not absolute

    eventually inevitable
    but in that
    they are not so special
    not unique

    beginnings

    these are unique
    these are absolute
    they only happen once
    they are not inevitable
    not guaranteed

    they require a complex
    independent
    set of variables
    to come together
    perfectly timed
    properly executed

    and in that
    they are singular
    very very special

    so let us not fret
    nor dwell
    nor waste emotion upon
    something so commonplace
    as endings

    instead

    let us seek
    let us anticipate
    let us celebrate
    beginnings

    these amazing culminations
    of elusive possibilities

    they are so full
    of promise
    of potential
    of mystery

    so worth our wonder

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4/30/11

    Time Traveling

    …written for Day #16, NaPoMo 2011…


    Time Traveling

    •

    tonight
    careful hands
    peel back cracked
    and yellowed protectant
    from dark and aging pages

    soured
    in long-ignored
    dusty albums

    my wife is liberating memories
    life moments
    immortalized

    faces and places
    call from another time

    a beautiful young bride
    a proud new husband

    our sweet children
    living
    and not

    family and friends
    here and gone

    other visuals
    strangely vague
    yet hauntingly familiar
    draw me
    spark warm recall

    remembered laughter
    tears gratefully less bitter

    captured images
    collect on our coffee table

    so too
    do insistent emotions
    cascading one by one
    and all together

    time
    the grand thief

    who would steal
    the treasures of our heart
    who would hold hostage
    the moments of our journey

    beautifully arrested

    deeply moved
    tears well and glisten
    stirred by heartfelt gratitude
    for this proof of life

    proof
    of love

    • • •

    rob kistner © 4.16.11