Tag: tragedy

Misting Quiet Skies

 

Original DDE™  art: “Evening Wing ” by: rob kistner © 10/16/25

—-<§>—-

under the misting quiet skies

a crow drifts west — its shadow long

the trees exchange their peaceful sighs

as vespers bring the voice of calm

 

a crow drifts west  — its shadow long

under the misting quiet skies

the earth deep in thought and wonder

asking questions with no answer

 

the trees exchange their peaceful sighs

a crow drifts west  — its shadow long

under the misting quiet skies

its heart knows true which way home lies

 

as vespers bring the voice of calm

the trees exchange their peaceful sighs

a crow drifts west  — its shadow long

under the misting quiet skies

 


Rain clouds gather…

 

Original DDE™  art: “On the Wing ” by: rob kistner © 10/16/25

—-<§>—-

I listen for love’s sweet music

I wander through both fire and rain

love’s contradictions tear my eyes

frustration sings a sad refrain

 

as skies grow dim — and night draws near

I listen for love’s sweet music

I watch as the world sharp and clear

begins to fade ‘neath gloaming skies

 

each shining thing I dive to claim

through beat of heart or soulful sigh

I listen for love’s sweet music

I call to love — get no reply

 

like a crow soaring open sky

my wings recall that dream to fly

my soul still burns — my heart stays true

I listen for love’s sweet music

 

rob kistner © 10/16/25

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Hour of the Beasts

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When the most capable
believe they have risen above
the mucus, the shit, the afterbirth
of their origin

when in their reflection
they see perverse transcendence
towards entitlement
in which no allegiance
or kinship of nature
binds them to their center

nor founds them in the
fevered fumbling fury
of the frightened flesh parade
in which they lock step
flailing for survival

when their insanity of arrogance
so distorts their vision of time
of the ancient
of the sweating
bone-broken reality
of human swill and wallow
through which they likewise trudge

shiny shoes or no

when they blatantly begin
to eat their own
while copulating with false gods
on forsaken gilded altars
of perjured horrors

then the hour of the beasts
is certainly at hand
and the power of wild nature
will rise up to dominate

and we’ll all become
the hulking mass
of the apocalypse
deserving to be struck down

and our black hearts
torn out and severed
by the self-inflicted rapier
of raw wild justice
and our husks immolated
on the pyre of banished
abandoned truth

that moment is near

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: eartweal

 

Spellbound

poet
you are enigma

darkness and shadow
you veil and shroud

fire and light
you burn and incandesce

torch my essence
burn deep my soul
trouble my spirit
unsettle my being

then poet
ignite my wonder

whet my seeker’s vessel
with need
to be filled full

poet
at once familiar
yet
exotically foreign
wonderfully strange

wrongly boxed but
exquisitely wrapped

in angst
indignation
longing
discovery
loss

in love

with all these
and infinitely more
you reach an empty place
deep within

echoing my past
awakening my myths

exposing
that which I embrace
in the moment
as truth

refocus me

stirring my pain
my anger
my loneliness

my hope

offering just enough answer
that I combust with question
sacred uncertainty

I’m held
suspended in inquiry
in memories of neverwas

enrapt by your careful words
transfixed by mystery
elevated by insight
impaled by vision

spellbound

This Night

As you read this Christmas poem, with its taste of bittersweetness, see it not in a dark light — embrace it as a tale of a long-awaited journey, to be with the one beloved.


digital collage entitled: “Christmas Tear” – by: rob kistner © 2011

 

B rushed my shoulder on this morning’s train
then at the market it was there again
while in line to get my breakfast tea
from our favorite table it beckoned me

in the crowd at the festive mall
glimpsed like a flicker of candle light
I swear I saw it fleeting fall
upon the gifts I did not wrap this night

upon the tree I did not decorate
the greeting cards I did not write
in frail voice I chastise fate
singing carols doesn’t feel right

this season I see it everywhere
the shadow of your love
elusive as a shopper’s smile
caught up in the crush and shove

but soon I’ll catch and hold it close
warmly to my breast
it will sweetly fill my heart
lay soft with me this midnight rest

for it returns this night each year
the same night you went away
in dreams you kiss away each tear
touch my lips that beg you stay

taken from my life in sleep
gone without a last goodbye
as we dreamed at midnight deep
each year I weep and wonder why

but this year I’ll not awaken blue
in the end an easy thing to do
this night I’ll make our dreams come true
this midnight deep I will come to you

*
rob kistner © 2011
update by rob kistner © 2021

Poetry at: dVerse

This poem originally posted 2011: at Magpie Tales

Aeropachydermicide

Aeropachydermicide: recklessly causing the death of someone or something by actions that result from the foolish belief that one is so smart and powerful that one can make an elephant fly.

 

Aeropachydermicide

  • Debunking the ridiculous theory of human dominion.

    • ~

    somewhere between our petrochemical insanity
    and our reckless dance with fractured atoms
    we believed we were the miracle
    and it all went seriously awry

    we fantasized we had dominion
    that we understood the vast unknown
    could control the raw chaotic
    that we had figured out the why

    so we delved into dark science
    with no regard for frail nature
    flailed our way across the planet
    belched our leavings into our sky

    we so bought into our egos
    that we perceived ourselves as gods
    that we were capable of anything
    perhaps make the elephant to fly

    but we humans lost sight of balance
    did not comprehend our place
    as only one of precious many
    we let the tipping point slip by

    now we wonder what will happen
    to our misbegotten dream
    stare through disbelieving tears
    as we watch it slowly die

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 10/3/11
    revised © 2019


     

  • Click below to check out more poetry at dVerse:

    Poetic: Theories of Everything and Anything


     

  • Check out more poems on Toads

     

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    Hi! I’m Edgrrr, rob’s shih tzu.

    • Hope

  • For society to have a real chance we need quality education!

    IMG_8584

     
    Last Hope

    ~

    I lift myself quietly
    very quietly
    from beneath the sheets
    soiled with neglect
    soaked with my nightmares

    I am again awake
    from another dark night
    that began with fear
    fear I might not survive
    and ends in sorrow
    realizing I did

    I rise
    make my way carefully
    past the shallow-breathed crumple
    that lay milky-eyed
    in a heap on the floor
    un-moving
    save a twitch of the head

    a head which now harbors demons
    where nocturnal angels of sweet release
    had lain down lush upon it
    in fevered embrace
    lustfully conjured
    by last night’s spoon and lance
    still skewered silver in the soured vein

    this wreckage is my mother

    I stop but for a glance
    verifying life
    then move on head down
    angle to the bathroom
    to the scum-brown bowl
    to wash my face
    lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
    that hangs bare and lonely

    strange eyes
    hold me in the mirror
    broken as my heart

    eyes of knowing
    eyes of sadness

    grief courses through me
    weighing upon my being
    burning into my heart

    I want to cry out
    but there is no one here to hear me
    no hero that can help me

    driven by instinct to survive
    by urgency to flee
    I shudder away the paralyzing despair

    in this dank food-less morning
    in this ruined single room
    in this coat-less chill of predawn
    I gather up my books
    step lightly through the door
    down the damaged stairs
    into the hostile streets
    heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams

    I duck and dodge
    in and out of shadows
    praying to once again avoid the evil
    that lurks and slinks
    among the garbage and graffiti
    of these crumbled bricken’d canyons

    that rolls slow and lethal
    gripping cold blue steel
    in predatory drive-by

    evil
    seductive as a smile
    deadly as a snake

    evil
    which if diligence should fail
    I fear will consume my soul

    deliberately I continue
    until at last I find my way
    to the building
    to the classroom
    to my teacher
    to my desk

    to the only hope
    to which I dare cling

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011
    (revision © 2019)

    ___________________________

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    • Rivers of Tears

     

    Rivers of Tears

    ~

    once lithe and vital
    nature’s great rivers
    lie choked and bloated

    buried misshapen
    in watery graves
    of reckless progress

    headstone’d
    by constructs
    of human folly

    their bones
    stained
    with the ghosts of salmon

    borne away
    on the tears
    of the ancients

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    …inspired by the ecological damage being done by the ill-conceived hydro-electric dams now choking many of the Pacific Northwest’s, and the earth’s mighty rivers, and the pollution we dump so recklessly into our critical and dwindling fresh water tributaries…

    The Startled Man

     

    The Startled Man

    ~

    this “she” was birthed
    in his fractured dreams
    helpless as a forest fawn
    frail as a snowflake
    falling on a May predawn

    a captive
    to his fearful heart
    caught in his twisted fantasy
    conjured by his crippled soul
    his power is his fallacy

    he needs her weak
    for at his core
    he’s filled with sour doubt
    knows his time of tyranny
    is quickly running out

    threatened
    he seeks to dominate
    silences her rising voice
    to keep her mute and under thumb
    tries to deny her right of choice

    with strengthened will
    she finds her voice
    speaks direct to what she sees
    startled by her forthright way
    he wants her back upon her knees

    once a hollow woman-husk
    with sorrow dark as growing dusk
    whose spirit withered
    in the dimming light
    as nightmares swelled
    night after night
    whose tears once seared the barren land

    now rebukes
    his fisted hand
    and walks away
    from the startled man

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2012

    Rebel Rebel

    …I republish this piece today in fond memory of John…

     

    “we all shine on, like the moon, and the stars, and the sun”

     

    Rebel Rebel

    •

    I’ll not listen
    not be shackled
    not be handled
    not be ruled

    I’ll not be managed
    nor be played
    manipulated
    or be fooled

    you sure as hell
    will not tell
    me

    who
    what
    where
    when
    how

    or why

    what you offer
    I’m not taking

    your extended hand
    I am not shaking

    the world I walk
    is of my making

    and

    I will not have it
    any other way

    your iron fist
    I destroyed it

    your sage advice
    I avoid it

    you can
    rant
    rave
    condemn
    and preach

    your approval
    I do not beseech

    I seek only
    my good counsel

    I’ll not succumb
    to might
    or muscle

    not be swayed
    by your slick hustle

    I am a man
    of my own mind

    and I will live
    as my own man

    this is all
    I want to be

    well-traveled
    loved

    and free

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2008

    _____________________

    image at top entitled: “Lennon”

    10/9/40 – 12/8/80

    • • •

     

    …inspired by writing prompt #54, found at “readwritepoem”.

    The Dimming

     

    The Dimming

    •

    here is the change

    the forgetting

    the slipping away
    into the haze of memory

    the frustration
    of no longer being able
    and still
    the burning longing to…
    remember

    and you
    dimming in this fog
    midst the times we have cherished
    the places we have loved
    fading beyond reach

    an ever-mounting loneliness
    like so many vacant seats

    empty

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Silent

     

    Silent

    ~

    do you hear the autumn wind
    stirring in the branches

    do you hear the leaves rustle

    do you hear my breath
    whispering your name

    do you hear my heart beat

    do you hear my tears fall

    or is it silent

    silent as the light-less realm
    that hauntingly engulfs my soul

    silent as that night
    when apples spilled
    on the broken stair
    where rail eluded
    your grasping hand

    silent as your futile cry
    when no voice came
    to grace your lips

    tender lips
    that parted gently
    to hold my kiss

    lips

    that will not know again
    sweet fruit

    nor love

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2011

     

    poem & image above inspired by visual prompt below

    * linked 2011 at Magpie Tales

    * linked 2020 at Poets & Storytellers

    Silence – two reflections

    These two poetic reflections are unrelated, beyond their focus on silence. The first reflection here considers what it is to fall into the deepening silence of old age. The second reflection looks at the silence that causes, and also results from repression…

     

    1ST REFLECTION

    Endings

    •

    shrouded by evening in waning october
    as autumn tumbles towards winter
    is to know the losing of the light
    the ever growing darkness
    the advance of the cold
    the time of endings
    death’s due vigil
    deep silence

    how do I abide this season

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    2ND REFLECTION

    Silenced

    •

    escape was an improbability
    as was understanding
    opinions regarding outcome
    ignored altogether
    fate sealed with no discourse
    executed with an air of entitlement

    when one has no arms to flail
    no fists to clench
    no fingers to point
    gestures of dissent are sorely limited
    rights easily wrest away
    freedom falls beyond grasp

    inevitable
    when one has no voice

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    poem “Silenced” inspired by image below

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    King of Sunrise

     

    King of Sunrise

    •

    on the boulevard below
    last night’s rain puddles
    midst the chaos of metro-clutter
    held hostage by tire and curb
    as if abandoned by the waters of earth

    it shoulders its way through the gutters
    in search of mother sea

    this day begins golden and crisp
    bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

    me and the first edition
    we sit by this morning window
    with coffee and curiosity
    quietly serenaded by the 5:00 AM news

    I read
    occasionally glimpse the screen
    grow troubled by our human plight
    amazed how we never learn
    when the answers seem so obvious

    in this moment
    the tv drones
    my frustration rises
    my spirit slips
    my mind drifts
    lifting on the vapor ribbons
    wafting from my steaming cup
    until I stare distracted

    the announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
    but I’ve fallen deep into my thoughts
    imagining how different it would be
    if I ruled this world

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    • linked at Magpie Tales

    Images – a ten year vigil

    …lest we ever forget

     

     

     

    Images


    •

    images

    unreal
    unfathomable images

    the graceful glide
    engulfed by the spire
    in a roar of golden orange

    horribly beautiful

    perversely mesmerizing

    obscene
    devastating images

    torrents of humanity
    raining down

    desperation their only escape

    masses of humanity
    racing
    to outrun the unbelievable

    praying
    to be delivered from the inconceivable

    traumatic images

    shrines of free commerce
    consumed
    by the unbearable weight
    of their fragile significance
    plummeting to earth
    in a cloud of self-destruction

    heartbreaking images

    screaming
    dazed
    terrified souls
    consumed
    by the unbearable weight of the moment

    staggering onward
    to outdistance the surging roll
    of all-engulfing
    pulverized aftermath

    courageous images

    battered
    determined
    tireless heroes

    those who were called
    who served unselfishly

    some
    who gave the ultimate service

    haunting images

    color
    gender
    ethnicity
    wiped away
    from the ashen-grey faces
    of the traumatized throngs

    now just masks of calamity

    all made equal
    by horror and grief

    one nation
    under siege
    inconsolable
    with tragedy and sorrow
    for all

    unforgettable images
    burned into our hearts

    • • •

    rob kistner © 9/11/09

     

    Clown

     

    Clown

    •

    I’m the sad little clown with the frowning face
    the round red nose and the great big tear
    this meek facade and silly sham
    belie the horror that I engineer

    life’s dealt me cold my hand is slack
    not one queen no king nor ace
    so violence now dwells in me
    masked behind my woeful face

    no one suspects the evil soul
    that festers deep in this funny fool
    they know not the monster here
    my gentle sheen conceals the cruel

    they don’t realize a broken heart
    a ruined life makes one quite mad
    they simply see the pitiful
    the painted face that looks so sad

    the shaggy coat the baggy pants
    the red suspenders the big white glove
    they do not know it hides the hand
    that choked the life from the one they love

    town after town state after state
    bodies mount in the circus’ wake
    in the dead of night at the dark of moon
    in frenzied fever each life I take

    each beautiful each innocent
    each unaware that they would die
    there will be more on the road ahead
    one for every tear you made me cry

    when the circus comes and the tents go up
    the people cheer in each sleepy town
    because the poor fools just don’t know
    who’s really come is the killer clown

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2011

    _____________________

    for two more tales of murder written in dark rhyme click “more”