Tag Archives: Broken

Reminded (day 2210)

You were not broken as I was;
Your only guiding star
Screamed out to remind me
Fresh as I may have been
It was never free to me.
Dark jackets cloaking sadness,
Salty waves lapping
At what you reminded me
And my opening held on to
Hands tattooed in braille.
Then your smile came,
Clouds parted,
And all that you had reminded me
Transformed as you had
‘For my eyes
Leaving dusty bits
Growing at the sides
Until you reminded me.

Treasure Chest (day 2131)

Rambling when I remembered to stop
A limb broken and I heard it drop
Methodically stripping naked
A consciously wrapped envelope
Placed at the trunk of a mighty old oak
Who waved back and forth
Silly gamblers marching about
To the tune of engines
Sputtering confusion
And lay raindrops upon folded corners
Which shall leak kava upon this ancient floor
Upon which I rest upon
To humbly assess the treasure chest.

I Cannot Believe in More (day 2097)

I cannot believe
What continually turns me around
I’ve got ten thousand wounds
Pierced through my broken soul
I’ve spent every summer
In the winter of my heart
And the coldness always warms up
What has forever been alone
I pull apart my chest
To reveal my ancient glacier
Upon which my survivor
Wags back and forth his tail
I separate every bit of sunlight
From creeping darkness setting in
And I’m left with an aggressive snarl
Cause I’m out looking for more.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXIII (day 2027)

(part XXXXXII)

As Willow lay on the ground motionless
Both Moon Cow and I put two more arrows
Into the belly of the mama bear as she stood up
Which shook her enough
To make her turn around and start walking off
With her baby now
In front of her and moving away
Moon Cow motioned to me to tend to Willow
And he slowly followed the bear
Putting two more arrows into her
Before she finally collapsed some distance beyond
The edge of the clearing.

When he came back to us
He had the bear cub by ruff of its baby neck
I was minding to Willow
Who didn’t have any cuts or bruises
That I could see immediately
But she was whiter then a ghost
And not responding to me
Knocked out I could only guess
By this time, Lily was up and out of her bed
Very worried about her mother
To keep her busy
I asked her to clean up what the bear had knocked down
And if she could, a cup of tea for her mother
I took some of the sweet mint leaves
And rubbed them together under her nose
Which slowly brought some colour back to her face
Her breathing became more dominant
And her eyes opened
And the first thing she said was
Is Lily ok?

I smiled at her and said Lily was right here
Who came over and lay down next to her mom
With a blanket in her hand
That she wrapped around the two of them
Clearly shaken and trying to be brave
I asked Willow if anything hurt
She said she couldn’t really tell
So I started with getting her to wiggle her toes
Which she was able to
Then I asked her to rock her feet slowly
From side to side
Which she was able to
I then pinched her toes
Which she said she could feel
So I declared she was going to live
And everybody laughed a little bit,
Including Willow
Which immediately made her wince in pain
Pointing to her stomach.

Through a process of poking and prodding
I eventually concluded that she had broken a rib or two
I was relieved (and so was she)
That when she next peed
There was no blood in it
We both knew what that would mean.

We decided to take the day
To decide which direction we should go
To Frank and Amy’s, where they had a warm house
And all the care we could ask for
This was still about a two days walk
If Willow wasn’t going to be able to ride a horse,
The other option was to head back to the village
Which would be about a days walk from here
Maybe two, if it was really hard for her to walk
Moon Cow proposed we make a sleigh
For her to ride in
But I knew that that would be no more comfortable
Then her riding the horse
And Willow agreed with this
So we decided that walking
Would be the smartest route for her.

By the end of the day
Willow was able to walk around
In moderate comfort
And we could definitely see the bruising starting to form
On her left rib area
Where the bear had collided nearly full charge.

(part XXXXXIV)

Dead Ends (day 1874)

I don’t want to remember
Because the stories of my nostalgia
Belong to endings I’ve never lived
And lost songs I’ve left unsung
Ring on in my head.
I don’t want to play those records
Because they’re broken now,
And my heart reaches
Every time the needle skips,
And every time I drive those streets
I’m left shifting gears of a
Past I’ve left dead ended.

Distance (day 1827)

I hate distance
It makes me anxious
And unwilling to move
And at the same point
Lost in translation
For locked inside
My nomadic heart
Beating upon different soil
Fleeting like broken sheets
And immersed
In a distant photograph
Soiled with the essence
Of a soul wandering,
A soul purely exposed
And awaiting.

photo by and of Danielle Nicol

photo by and of Danielle Nicol

Just Fine (day 1587)

Left my memories
On an empty bank today
Singing an old song
And my heart bleeds on

Turned to a broken arrow
Shot through the dark
Loosely wrapped with a
Half written love letter

Leather upon my wrists
Empty and holding it tight
Got a wing on my mind
Baby, I’m doing just fine.

Just Fine by Ned Tobin

Winter Footsteps (day 1337)

Winter swept away my eyes,
Blinded while in memory
That lay half spent from truth,
Half lost on an innocent blue eyes
That woke with no name.

I walked backwards to confirm my footsteps –
Innocents of a broken heart.
For too many, my dear love,
Have fallen unwatched upon this cold ground.
Share this memory with my awaiting cold winter steps.

Lines of my Heart (day 1157)

A heart is a weathered blanket
Alone on the porch
Blowing in the wind.

And I can’t see the end.

When we open our hearts
They’re alone for the ride
Like yesterday’s news.

And I can’t see the end.

A cure is buried
Like lines of my heart
Broken and bent.

And I can’t see the end.

Transition From Hurt to Love, and then Back Again (day 1092)

..And there were golden letters.
[Can I finally tell you?]
Like streams lapping mossy brooks,
To which my gloss rolled over.
In spite my anarchy,
My self propulsion…
Towards your grace.
I left slipping,
Jumping to and fro
Unto my broken jaw,
Lifelessly turning me over
Into airbrushed aluminum oxide.
Geometrically tracing
My bloodless sorrow
Into triangles
[Non-conducive triangles]
That weaved my sorrow
Into perfect pitches
[Acute pitches]
Hallowing my desire
Into five unspoken pledges,
Five needle point succulents
Layering my borders
Like foggy rolling alcoves
Set deep amongst
Cool summer’s afternoon
Wheeping willow rushes
– faint memories about this seascape –
But my layered angles sheltered me
From petty hearts that soothed me
To make my sleepless nights
Ever lonely, evermore.
A riddle I can’t play just so.
But lighting candles
That broke into my bedroom
And watched my brow quiver
As morning wretched it’s yawning
About the dusty trails,
I traced an even pathway
In triangles, forever faster
Until my morning had at last come
Filled with ancient rhythm.
Eyes so better clearer
Than one thousand lenses focused
On a heart so muddy [clearer].
I held onto my breath
Until anxious had subsided,
For I could not remember
What words had come before it.
And in such built excitement
A heart did flutter on,
Lost but not forgotten
Into books of golden letters
– Bound with broken arrows –
That felt so narrow holding
Pieces of leather’d sorrow
[Remember bloodless triangles]
That wept a stainless trail
From deep within desperation
Into worn hands of a savior
Who whittled out a triangle
To feed alotted perscriptions
With ever nimble fingers
Soaked in rosé water
And dried with ancient scrolls
Written in a forgotten language
That told of a lost soul
Who pledged a life to quill
Written in golden letters
And tied with broken arrows.
Words he’d lost to scrolls.
A heart he’d bled for food scraps
To feed his lifeless voodoo doll
Filled with needled pin holes
And scarred with a single triangle
Between worn out eye holes.
And written just below it
In tiny golden letters
Was ‘dia de la muerte’,
And the eyes all turned to sun
That grasped their holy language,
Blinding them to forgiveness
In smokeless trans-am tires
With a golden eagle flying.
This was not the end of stardust,
Not a burning pledge for Satan,
Not midnight’s showdown in dusty boots.
This was the last redemption hour,
A stained wedding gown and laughter.
And two boots made of leather
Tied tight with broken arrows,
Tracing triangles in the dirt
At gun points scary tremor.
Written neatly in a book
In perfect golden letters
Signed only with a triangle.

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