Category Archives: Bubblegum

Jon-Jon Wood Oak (day 2085)

These days are long, my son
The grass hardly grows
And we must be keen and aware
To find what has been left
From the summer’s growing
See these cat tails?
They will do you very good
But the birch, poplar, and willow
Those will do.
For we are not the only ones
Looking for sustenance
In these cold, blizzardy days
No, let this be a reminder
That when the food is plenty
In the warm summer days of green
To eat and eat and eat some more,
For winter’s sure to come again
And we survive, oh, we do survive
We are survivors on what has been stored
During the summer days of green.

Moose watercolour painting by Ned Tobin

Mary Lazaretta Pilonne (day 2084)

You see here now don’t chya know
I was, and were, to be sure
A little tied and tried
But test it was and test me not
I set the plot and tricky thin
My sneaky ways and shifty grin
Wore me like a blade of grass
And there I was on tippy-hooves
Scamper proof and lightly tapping
Dark as night, thin as life
Working in and working out
A two by two by four my plot
Let it be known and let me not
Show the grief I never treed
For in the end I never moved
So here I am stuck in my groove.

Bill Xavier Walters (day 2083)

You know, last night
I was walking through the briar patch
Thick as a skunks tail it was
And there before me was a glowing patch
Of juniper berries
I kid you not!
Juniper berries!
So I dug and I tugged
And I squeezed and I slid
I bent and I stretched
Until I made it through that prickly ol patch
And beheld those junipers
And boy did they taste good!
Sure is a change to the worms and beetles
And fiddleheads I’ve been finding
I sat right down and ate each juniper berry
One by one, plucked off the branch
Until they were all gone
And as I dug and tugged
And squeezed and slid
And bent and stretched my way out of there
Guess if I had a smile on my face or not?

Camojawa Longhook (day 2070)

I am sorry kind gentleelk
I have never been to the Rivers Pass
Though I have heard from friends
That the water there
Is exceptionally clear
I once had an Uncle
Who would go every year
For what he would call
Elaksation Elkscursions
Mother would roll her eyes
Whenever he would say this
I would ask him what that meant
And mother would tell him
Not to fill my head with such nonsense.

Watercolour Elk by Ned Tobin

You Used To (day 2063)

When you used to sing me songs
I was James Dean and you were love
And wind flowed through our hair
Past a highway sign that read: ‘see ya later’.

When you used to run your hand
Across the front summertime chest
I’d look you up and down
Until we’d both run all round.

When you called me that last time
I was a million miles away
There was static playing on every line
And my voice was in a tin can.

Now, when you come to my mind
You’ve still got those wild daises in your hand
Your smile is the size of the sun
Where we’ve both just begun.

Windy Winter in the Forest (day 2049)

Green branches and
New logs
Across my path

Still Life in the Window (day 1970)

Raindrops set the mood
On an open Thursday night,
Songs reverberated callusedly
Against a faint rattle
Hardly heard under the crash
Of elephant hoof raindrops
Where the marksman’s twang
Nearly captured,
Patiently awaiting amidst a
Two pane dust memory
With a perfect view
Of empty hopes;
A thin cobblestone path
Weaves its way
Amidst falling whitewashed fencepoats
And tufts of sheep fodder
With eager gumboots
Avoiding eye contact
With our token warrior
Next to a thimble and needle
And a postcard received yesterday.

Island Dribble (day 1962)

My island leaks
It dribbles uncontrollably
On passing dolphins
And soaks mosses
That covers hardwood
And little squirrels
That come hither
Jump and play
In each their puddle
Falling calmly
Upon dark rocks
That take away
My islands dribble

Blueberries (day 1955)

I bring my soul into your every hair
Dangling there
An extension
Floating and waving upon your whim
And sunshine
Marks my smile
As the golden hour I should tell
Clears minds
And hurries home
With a full basket of blueberries

2015-09-26-jamie-lee-mock-ned-tobin-urban-sunshine-22-of-374-2

My Sweet Game (day 1950)

Remind me of the garden I’ve floated in
Tea you used to share
Your laugh to my sweet game

With history on our steppe
I could mark every book full of stars
And still your voice through halls of love

Let me lose years since it’s been
So much to wish and to share
Let us find two handsome garden chairs

As dead leaves fall Autumn around
My heart pulls home warm cups of tea
And family speaks free in your hair

My Sweet Game by Ned Tobin