Category Archives: Photograph

Jack Jump Down Twice (day 2125)

Jumpin juniper berries
Did I ever tell you about the
Hot rocks in the Devil’s Pass
Down South along Whiskey Gorge?
Oh boy oh boy those rocks
I tell ya
Had me jumping half way down that gorge
Didn’t miss a jump
But sure did scare ol Franny
Boy oh boy
She was hollering after me
And the echo of her hollerin’
Had the whole gorge a’shakin’
And me a jumpin
Oh boy oh boy
Those hot rocks down South!

Nubian-Ibex watercolour painting by Ned Tobin

Roan Short Tail (day 2124)

In the great time of y’or
When my Grandfather Thick Neck
Roamed these wild lands
His deer were thousands strong
And each Autumn they’d collect
From all four corners of
His vast kingdom
He had roamed all Summer
And would gather near
The great Big River
To Winter in collective warmth
The power was in their numbers
It was impossible for predators
To attack such a strong group
And in the darkest days of Winter
They had fellow deer
To remind each other
Of the bountiful Summer days
Coming soon again.

Mule-Deer watercolour painting by Ned Tobin

Ode to a Forest Tree (day 2115)

Every step you carry with me
A fragrance wafting so free
Your spine tingles the very clouds
Surrounding me, which I see
Which I love and become one
Of every day a deep inhale
That reminds me of pure ecstasy
A true embrace
A truth I remember and carry home
To set my mind upon the ledge
Of your clear visage.

Cottonwood tree - Ned Tobin

Blossoming (day 2100)

Mystery is a spring blossom
Thou art nothing but a layer
Hardly shall thou breathe
Thy deepest breath: inhale
Until thy layers do bloom to flower
Whereto this spreading blossoming
So, too, shall come to thy mystery
Thy warmest days at last.

Abandon (day 2091)

This is our violence
Shatter brackets ripping through
Cleanly pressed materialism
A bomb drops
And two children cry
One for mother sky
Two for dust around
Tie a rock to the bottom of our soul
While tulips begin to grow
Above rusting piles
Of violent ricochet
Splinters of what should have done
But left walking alone
Through feral fields
An effort spent
Into misuse and abandon
Which we voted for
And raised flags proudly.

Far Away (day 2089)

Walking past a darkened window
About my business of the day
I caught a glimpse deep inside
That sent me far away.

I shuddered at the thought upon
My furrowed brow, so cold
A memory of a locked trunk
I had believed far away.

Oh torment, why thou doth attack me
In my daily sugared tea
Leaves me holding secateurs
A photograph from far away.

There then rests thy saving grace
A cutout tacked to thee wall
A guillotine for my dancing fingers
Upon darkness far away.

Far Away by Ned Tobin

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

Sparks (day 2079)

Wait for the moment
Should ever it arise
Feeling of fire
Deep down inside

Each forever moment
Should any desire
Oh thy heart asunder
Deep down inside

Lace is your habit
My open skin
Protection is frivolous
Deep down inside

Darkness is silence
Blonde a habit
Sparks are our evening
Deep down inside

Cracking Ice (day 2078)

I awoke with two round moons
Holding my hands
Asking me to cherish
Each breath I was given to take
I slowly drew one in
And icicles formed on my beard
Tingling each lung
One quiver at a time
Until my thoughts all vanished
Like the sounds of cracking ice
And light arose
From tips of frozen fir
Grand Douglas firs
Silhouetted as snowy boughs
That stood watch
One more evening.

Just A Little (day 2073)

It’s days like these
Rolled over, stuffed in
Left sleeping
With tired eyes
Lost on a distant horizon
A breath, heavy
Somewhere between asthma
And an eagle’s scream
Washed in the lapping ocean
And swept away
By the wind
Leaving heavy drops
Crawling down my cheek
And humming a slow song
That’re maybe
Just a little sad.

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