rob kistner Jun 8

across the way
last night's rain puddles
amidst the chaos of construction
trapped on-site
as if abandoned by the waters of earth
it erodes its way to the culvert
in search of mother sea

this day begins dewy and crisp

bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

lover and beloved
we sit by the morning window
with tea and curiosity.

we talk

for this moment
our souls spill
one into the other
until I am distracted

your lips continue sculpting words

but I've fallen
deep into your eyes


rob kistner © 2007
(revised 2018)
In this piece I used “puddles” as a verb, to give life and animation to the water.
Being an “alive entity”, the water’s instinctive search and need for its “natural place” in the world, draws a strong parallel to the lover, instinctively seeking a natural place in the beloved’s eyes (to be interpreted as soul also).
The lover is naturally drawn in as the water is naturally drawn to the sea.

I felt the poem worked better with the “day” being the subject. It allows you to enjoy the day in an active way, as is the lover looking out the window.
Also, this way, the imagery leads you unsuspectingly to the couple,
rather than it being an observation beginning with the lover.

In a cinematic perspective, this would be a rising shot, continually rising,
starting from a closeup of the water puddling on the construction site.
Then up, and pull-back, to a wide-angle fly-over of the street,
eventually picking out the window, then a slow, deliderate decent,
to just outside the window, looking in at the couple, then slowly in
through the window. Ultimately, the scene becomes engaged with the couple in conversation. Then ever so slowly we move into the beloved’s azure eyes.

Soundtrack: the obvious natural sounds of morning birds, blended with
the industrious sounds of. construction. slowly fading in is the gentle,
but obscure sound of lovers, comversing, maybe a warm subdued laugh.
As the camera draws closer to the window, the sounds of construction,
and the birds songs, begin to fade, while the sound of the lover's obscure conversation holds steady in volume, but begins to be overtaken
by slowly rising, modest tempo acoustic music. As the camera pulls in on
The lover's eyes, all that remains is the music, until all fades to black
with the resonance of a single harmonic chord, plucked on a pair of strings.
Autumn…by Jessie 9/05

Autumn, the days visit shortly and the earth sighs
The winds tide changes dropping from the north
Crisp; clean, awakening

Leaves rustle high, amongst the outstretched arms of each branch
One last dance, then in an exhausted state, drops
Carried ever so gently on whispered winds

A blanket of colors tucks in the ground
Eclectic tapestry, colors and shapes
Shuffled feet reweaving

Cinnamon smells and autumn leaves, permeate the air
Aromas lure forgotten times
Innocent and pure
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Winterfly of moonlit dreams.
With wisps of smoke, and coiling wings.
Snow drop falls.
On crisp brown leaves.
At the snap of a twig,
You rise from ash to sea of stars.
The sunlight dances on the fresh coat of ice.
Based on a lucid dream I had as a Winterbutterfly.
df Aug 2017
as i walked out the door
this morning, i felt it.

i felt the crisp in the air.
the promise of cooler days.

remembrance of things long ago forgotten.

Autumn is near.
hand me my jacket.
my season is about to begin.

{d.f. - 08/28/17}
counting down the days till it's officially autumn.
The Tinkerer Oct 2016
Quiet nights remind me of your voice.
The silence cut ever so delicately.
Blades of whispers.
Whispers of sweet nothings.
What keeps the fire in this heart alight.

Quiet nights remind me of your eyes.
The glint of a beautiful moon.
The hope of a million galaxies,
As darkness cowers.

Quiet nights remind me of you.
All the little things that you would do.
And though half a world away you may be from me.
Though once in a blue moon, you I get to see.

Quiet nights like these.
Will always remind me of you.

Clear, crisp, beautiful warm night with the moon up high and the stars out playing with the fires in our hearts.
These nights remind me of you.
It's been 84 days and counting.
Far from me you may be, but too far you will never be. :)

Happy birthday you strong, beautiful young lady..
May all that's good be yours and all you wish be true someday. :)
Kaya Sep 2016
She was dressed in mustard,
on a tall golden chair
She sat before clean,
crisp and clear silverware
around her, nothing mattered
not even the polluted air
she left, nobody noticed
they ask "was she even there"

lulu Aug 2016
Sweater sleeves dangling past your cold fingertips;
leaves drifting soundlessly to your feet.
The air is so cool and crisp and it feels so clean
and fresh against your skin and in your lungs.
You can feel the past slipping away,
making way for the new and exciting things the autumn season brings you.

Long, intellectual, enlightening conversations
that happen in the coziest of places with the friendliest of people.
Warm coffees and teas drank next to equally as
warm fireplaces and comforters.
Ginger and spice scenting every home you enter.

Wishes being made and promises being kept.
Walking hand in hand with the love of your life,
wearing jackets and mittens and knowing that everything is finally alright.
Nose kisses and long hugs to chase away the cold.

I wouldn't call is autumn so much as the one time of year you ever feel at home.
** Write a poem inspired by autumn. What does it smell like? What does it feel like? What does it sound like? What does it look like? What does it mean to you? Send them to me! I would love to read them!!! **
Cameron Boyd May 2016
I want to bottle this air just for you
I wish I could wrap it up and bring it back!
If I could hold my breath long enough this would be easier.
So I think you should just come with me next time
So I can kiss you

I wish you could feel this breeze
I wish you could come above the clouds!
If I had a fan just gentle enough then maybe I could show you.
Until then I think you should just come with me
So I can brush my fingers through your hair.

I wish you could see these flowers
I wish you could see these colours!
If I could show you the shades of your eyes maybe then you'd see
So next time I think you should just follow me
And we can smell the same flowers together

I wish you could feel these hands,
I wish you could feel these lips!
If I could place a kiss on your cheek and my hands on your hips
Maybe I wouldn't have to ask you to follow me
And we could smell the same flowers together
And roll around in the same grass
Vladmir Putin May 2015
Frank Sinatra
En mi casa
Copy pastarino

Wearin Prada
Russian opera
Quentin Tarantino
Next page