Tag Archives: Bed

Each Torrent (day 2177)

Wisdom calls in the elements
And smiles to each torrent and fury
Wisdom tramples upon no minion
Takes no weakened arrow
And pulls no tender feather
Wisdom spews no fallacy
Nor isolates convenient truths
Wisdom sweeps no dirt
Under our very own beds
Wisdom holds space
For every voice to share
And walks hand in hand
To the center of the square
A march of justice
With a silent peace flag
Wisdom charges the air
With truth and an open heart.

One Long Om (day 2175)

A never ending line of whispers
Spoke to me last night
Took my innocent eyes
Shaded them with tricks unmissed
I walked along a grassy slope
With wind circling around my eyes
And with two short breaths
And one long OM
I sank into the ground
Here I found the largest system
I’d ever seen before
I made acquaintances with
Two oddly shaped rocks
And the loam between their mounds
Where slowly came
A wiggly earth worm
Who circled me twice before
It called my name
In whispers twice
And there I was in bed.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXVI (day 2030)

(part XXXXXV)

We stayed for five days
With Amy, Frank and Clarinet
As expected, it was really quite enjoyable
There wasn’t enough room inside their cabin
So we set up in Frank’s barn
With some fresh hay we had helped reap –
Clarinet and Lily shared a bed inside,
I was happy to see them getting along so good
In spite their obvious cultural differences
And, truthfully, hardly able to speak to each other.

We were all thankful to have the horses
For the ride home
Amy forced us to take some of her jerky again
And stuffed our bags full of baked buns
Fresh from her oven
But, it was nice to sleep
Under the stars again
Around a campfire
The night was warm and clear
And we all felt happy,
Warmed by the socializing…
By the friendliness Amy and Frank
Always made sure to shower us with
They were really becoming quite good friends
To think, only three short years ago
I had first walked up to their front porch.

The next day we were up early again
And before we had ridden too far
Moon Cow saw a deer and had an arrow through it’s neck
We camped close by, at a creek
And spent the rest of the day dressing it
To prepare it for the remainder of the ride
It was nice to eat the fresh meat that night
But it surely wasn’t as good as
What Amy had packed us, smoked.

The rest of the trip home went
Without much to excitement
I was happy to see how well Willow was doing
On account of her broken ribs
It still hurt her to do long days on the horse
But she was so skilled on the horse
That she was able to avoid much pain
Still, we kept the next two days of riding
Slow and steady, without pushing too much
And enjoying the wildnerness we explored
Lily, of course, was all eyes everywhere
So excited to be on a journey
But a little melancholic about
Having to return to our village
After become so familiar, spoiled I guess I could say
With Amy and Clarinet’s hospitality.

part XXXXXVII

Moon at Midnight – Part IV (day 1978)

(part III)

As I sat crosslegged in the little clearing
Hidden as I was, deep within the forest
Heading East to the land of the Old People
I wondered about the faces I might see,
Faces of the men and women who would greet me,
Faces of the children playing in fields
And fields growing with the vigor
Only well cared for fields of tender hands can grow
I knew I would find
In the land of the Old People.

Beside me was a little patch of buttercups
That skirted the edge of deeper forest
Fallen logs and fir needles of this land
I could still hear the brook I had crossed
Calmly gurgling in the distance
My canteen still cold from its fill
My belly still churning from its fill
My fingers still wet and a cold
Only fresh mountain water can give,
A cleaning happily taken
Where I had let my bare feet soak gently a while.

My eyes scanned into the forest
Of an age I guessed ageless
Not a stump to be seen
Finding geometry in naturally fallen trees
Trees standing so tall my guess couldn’t reach
Moss covering so gently
I envisioned the industry nestled
Deep within the safety net of moss
That lay about thickly covered forest floor
Fungus’ mycelia layer hidden well
In healthy circles around the Ancient Giants
Old Man’s Beard hanging low
And spider webs zig-zagging
With its delicate fibers of care.

My pouch was always on me
No matter how far from camp I wandered
So as I moved away from my opening
I felt instinctively for my tools
Stepping over former soldiers
Rotting as life continued its circle
Through the efforts of decay
My soft crunch avoided the mounds
Finding edible mushrooms was easy
This early season of harvest
Upon edges of clearings I’d find strawberries
And blueberries and salmonberry brambles
So thick I’d get high
Feeding so heartily on such sugar
I knew it wouldn’t stay forever.

Fire starting was an economy no man could do without
No sane man that is,
For plenty of nights I’d been cold
In pure darkness of deep night,
But this night I had supple moss
And accessible wood dry enough to start
A warming dance in my blood
Soon the coals were hotter then the wood
That burned inside their whispers

My bed was simply a roll
The hard ground was something I was used to
I carried soft fur of a bear
On the top of my bag
Which I’d lay under my roll
To soften each night’s cold
My dream of a sheepskin
I had read about in books
Of old foreign herdsmen roaming
Highlands of Scotland
But I with my simple roll
Laid out on the ground.

part V

20151015-shawnigan-lake-ned-tobin-27

Here To Stay (day 1929)

I want to go off and into something else
I’m not here anymore, left blowing into the wind.
Where does my pain come from every night?
Leave me there, it’s in my soothing song.
It’s not lines I’ve drawn across my head
Nor lines that draw my sheet to bed,
It’s circles running down my cheeks
To smother every heartbeat I don’t want to forget.
I’ve lost the difference in my dreams,
They’ve come into my days with open eyes
Reaching out to what I see;
Reflections shaking out in twilight’s lake.
Harmony will be my memory’s drawing
As I lay my bedding down as straw,
Take my hand with what I’ve yet to say
And brush my dusty shoes so that it’s here I’ll stay.

My Chest (day 1889)

All the innocence has just left my body
Angels wilting as sunflowers
Along roads striped in yellow
Blue skies dotted with white exclamation points
Into dreams I’m trying to fall back into
On a hazy morning bed
With a slight smell of campfire
Tinglin’ my nostrils
And a ladybug slowly crawling
Six legs at a time
Across the roof to cannonball onto my chest

My Chest by Ned Tobin

Sheets in Pages (day 1747)

I could write your pages onto sheets of my unkempt bed
Slowly cycling the in-seam with the hem,
And rolling each corner up like a cigarette to smoke slowly
Because love here is so thick it’s impassable;
Between eyes of surrender and a heart of
I’m never letting go.
So I blot my pen into deep white sensories
Circumnavigating each prior night’s creases – expertly –
Until my final stroke has been felt and embraced
As if it were written upon thy own lined back.

Storm is on the Ni’ (day 1696)

Weathered by the storm one night
I lay awake in bed,
Trusty steed loose outside
To fare for his warmth, amidst.
I’ve got a heart of gold and
I left my shoes tidy by the door.
Stayed up all night watching
Stars shoot through the sky,
And you told me twice that I
Had led you down the right road.
Now you come home and
Lay awake in bed,
Lay beside me when
Storm is on the ni’.

This Old House (day 1652)

A terrible wind
Is blowing through
The house again tonight.

I’m lucky to
Have got on my
Moccasins for extra warmth.

And if I am
Of my right mind
I’ll surely bring out my socks

To keep my toes
And this empty bed
Warm throughout tonight.

Thrill (day 1525)

Opening door
Holy roller
Betting on good times
Hand full of roses.

Opening heart
Small bag of essences
Dripping in gold
Hot bed of desire.

Opening trail
Gorging thrill.
Random my choice,
Hammering noise.

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