Tag Archives: Eagle

Bled My Raindrops (day 2120)

Listen to raindrops fall
I thought I heard to let it go
Sadness in an old song
And my heart is letting go
To me, I’m still beating there
Go back, take the slower track
In a mind of losing me
I called out to a golden eagle
Take me to the sun
Today I ran today I run
Today I found a trail
Through a suffering forest
They call Ancient Wisdom
I led my heart
Through the roots
To place it at a base
Of Old Man Beard and his setting sun
That bled my raindrops dry.

Shawnigan Lake - Ned Tobin

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.

Eagle’s Low (day 2068)

My eagle has been flying low
A message near me now
Healing in my soldier row
Many years of rules below
Wings are taking me up slow
Up, up, flying low
I hear a cry upon ocean’s brow
Take me river, take me so
I’ll never be mother’s sorrow.

Eagle's Low by Ned Tobin

Heart & Soul (day 1779)

When I crawled to the edge of a forever span
I got so close to a miracle
I laid my nose right down to the stone
And breathed in the dirt that was my heart and soul

When I reached so high from the up most top
My mind was scorching in an unbent sky
With rainbows and eagles far below
I was a full thought in a twinkling eye

When I caused each leaf to rock and sway
From an ebb and flow in my very glow
I sent my prana to behold the world
To return double-fold, with such secrets that’d never been told.

Golden trees along the PNW coastline of Vancouver Island, Canada

Ode to a Valley (day 1764)

If I were an eagle
I’d be here, soaring free
Sweeping through your narrows
Upon gusts that never slow.
And if I were a rain cloud
I’d pass by every time
To feed this valley floor with
Water, for to see you forever full.
And if I were a hungry bear
I’d find my way to you
To feed upon your wild berries
And fish upon your stream.
And if I were forever wiggling
My white tail, bounding free,
I’d seek your meadow pasture
To fill my belly overflow.

wild valley near Faulkland, BC

Fears on Ice (day 1265)

A timeline isn’t a memory
Unless you’re walking there with me.
Soar like an eagle baby,
Ride high above the sea.

Answers to all these questions
Is you and me growing free.
Lay fears on ice baby,
Command your spirit carry me.

Music isn’t loud enough
Until it’s got you in the knees.
Throw your head back with me baby,
Ignite fires and set souls free.

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.

Lords Divine (day 1081)

For goodness – not –
Shall Lords divine.
Sweet melon nectar
Explicit: intertwine.

An eagle soars
With lengthy hearth
An eagle burns
As Pharaoh’s earth.

River’s dry
– A cracking grain –
To whither: dead,
Our fathers bane.

Of golden green
‘Twixt slender pains
Yell “Willow’s mixture”
Betrayal’s feign.

Yet heard – unspoke –
Gripped the sword
– A childless yoke –
Divine hoard.

With The Eagle (day 928)

The Eagle flies with me tonight
Around tall lean trees
The anger of cold winds
Flexing thunder in eyes of darkness
With whispers lightly tossed with Zeus’s talons

And I – with my cry – let fall great prey
Great beasts of ancient lineage
Who scream loud
When I soar near

I am gliding through torrents tonight
With the Eagle by my side

The Heavens (day 195)

This journey has been tortured and turned with the omnipresent glare of the eagle
The desires of conquest have been hindered by the scorn of angels
The love has never been spared by cupid, nor by a hungry lover’s eyes
Yet the gears still turn, the ride still rolls

This ascent has been beaten with brutality of breath
Baited with the promise of one pure and descending glance towards the worlds we’ve passed through
A view from the heavens, a wonderfully epic moment of hysteria
As the clouds below part and clarity is felt like the needle sinking in

Mother, won’t you cry with me, die with me
As the young ladies last romance curled its gnarly fingers around the seeping demise
Withered air collapsing into the cruel hands of zero gravity
Mother, won’t you cry with me? Die with me.