Author Archives: Ned

Window Speak (day 2255)

What borders your mind
Living inside windows
Waving at only full moons
From the bottom
Of a claw foot tub.
Does conscience
Grab your envelope
Of regret as a child grabs
A pumpkin to smash?
My Lilies have grown up
Convincing dilated pupils
Of a two for one deal
They cannot pass up,
But you don’t like purple hearts
You dive deep into paper cups
Shredding tomorrow
With dull plastic knives
And this is goodbye
From your window I’m waving.

Connect (day 2254)

Calmness is my pressure
A systematic indulgence
That crosses over boundaries
Calling names
At single use disposable users
A tire track
With endless amounts of windows
At an ocean view exploration
A landfill with no name
With no responsibility
Because nobody actually knows
Where disposable income goes
Wake up with an eye sore
And slice the issue out
Organically disposable non-issue
An ocean of non-issue
A backyard of non-issue
A driveway with no grass
Beside a lawn with perfect grass
Clear boundaries
In a global world
Connected
Indiscreet and moving
Migrating in our uncomfort
Like comfortable shoes
Worn well
While shopping for a new pair
And comfortably disposing
Of my connect.

Edge of Me (day 2253)

It drops the edge out of me
Silence and methods and
Misunderstanding
I don’t know the cost
But I know the me
The truth in me
And it comes out in droves
That burst upon parkades
And spills into pastures
To edges of your existence
To be forgotten
Muted
Stumbled upon and missed
And closed.
A box being closed
Yet so delicately wrapped
And ornately carved
It is almost fit
It should rest closed
Yet each edge
Reminds me I’m still here
Resembling
A fifty year old maple
With buttons on my shoes.

Sunsets (day 2252)

Sunsets have come again
Chipping paint on my front door
Paint paint paint some more
Let me go ol’Loony bin
I’m growing wild to my back steps
It’s summer come to hem me in
Picking out my rooted joy
Chip-o-way-o-chip-a-maw
Returned again with knuckles raw
Scuffed it up till fingers bled
A little grass to dull the pain
Watching sunsets come again
Call me in the morning sun
Call me in the morning
Call me when it’s to dark again

Fire Making (day 2251)

There’s nothing quite like starting a fire
From the very kindling you’ve gathered
Shaved flakes of fresh wood
Because woodsmen don’t use paper
To start their fires.
Each piece of wood weighed and measured
To match each flames intensity
For in its time that fire shall get
A new piece as its fuel.
Handling an axe isn’t a light days work
It’s sharp, and heavy,
And you’ve really got to swing it hard
I you want any work done at all,
For your fire to get nice and tall.
Then as night sets in, darkness itself,
Warmth from your toil and support
Comes bellowing out
In calculated intensity
From within the fire you’ve set
And worked as a good night beacon.

Ode To Birds Singing At Night (day 2250)

When I bed my wary down
An anticipated rest at night
Whilst stars still not yet hung
A song plays in a key so high
So high I must quieten to enjoy
First the symphony comes
From the right of me
A solo of hesitation
Then echoing the chorus rings in:
“All of life, all of life, all of life!”
Off into the distant copse
A clear and bright bird stands up tall,
Two so close
One behind
Now chattering from all around!
Carrying me off on a journey
Into a night so deep
To surely dream
Of more sweetly
Singing birds.

Home Team Game (day 2249)

Memory brings me to a time I played
On ice so cold and flat
Laced my skates, taped my stick
Buttoned on my helmet tight
Jersey worn proud and clean
Stretched about my back
Number on a team so strong
Hear the Cougars roaring loud
From the home team bench we’d sit.
A puck would be the object of
Bodychecks and blocking shots
Goalies were last defense
Set back in their crease to save the rest
Pass, slapshot, he shoots, he scores!
That’s how we’d win our games,
Hat trick, assists, winning goals,
The whole rink was on our side.
Then, exhausted, we’d all shake hands
Open a door in the boards
And head off to the locker room
To debrief and tuck our gear
Into hockey bags we’d pack off
Out into night’s frosty air.

As a Soldier (day 2248)

Here I am just as a soldier,
A rough and humble man;
Hairy and unkempt again.
Spent a year in training camp
Now I’m out here on the line,
Every night my rest’s a tent.
Wind keeps blowing me all over,
Stand to face pouring rain.

Friend you are and will always be –
One day may turn out just fine.
A lofty sunset we shall see
Watching gulls play the breeze.
With my heart I levy will
Faith forever you shall be
My guiding star, my dreams of free
My hope and evermore.

Spruce Story (day 2247)

The old spruce and I sat silently
We shared secrets unspoken
We shared ground softly packed
I looked up and counted to one hundred
Each branch I gave a name
Each name remembered its origin
In the world of seven valleys
I heard ravens nesting
Squirrels chasing
And I felt each limb slowly shake
Watching each needle slowly fall
Tumbling to the palm of my hand
Which rebirthed my blessings
In each moment of doubt
Until I stood where the spruce had stood
And I inhaled deeply as the spruce had inhaled
And I listened as the spruce had listened
And I swayed as the spruce had swayed
Until the seven valleys became my valleys
And my story remained so.

Worn Sun (day 2246)

I watched the sun set today
My worn legs took me to the edge of the world
Where I ran my finger over horizon lines
That achingly waltzed a deep pink hue of gold.
The last drops of sunlight are transfixing
They speak of ancient willows blowing in the wind,
Of ancestors who worked fields with their hands,
Of patio chairs rocking back and forth
Transfixed by the first sips of a perspiring cider.
Then, darkness calls;
Outstretched hands tracing my jawline
Caressing my sore back with nimble fingers
Jarring my consciousness with fading memories
Like static visions lifting stars into place
And a wind dying down for rest.