Tag Archives: Face

Ancient Forest, Ranger (day 2142)

Walking through the ancient forest
I pick up broken sticks
I pick up what has left the home
To wander alone, to wander, Ranger.

Many times I’ve shared my thoughts
With wholesome handsome faces,
In a trunk of ancient bark
I sing songs of fallen trees
That show me signs of what has begun
In silver rays of spying lightness
And broken sticks below my foot
Though an ancient forest I remain.

Betwixt a Star (day 2134)

Let me thank you for your moment
For loving me for a moment
I saw it in your eyes then
I saw it in your eyes.

Like finding a new blossom
Betwixt winter’s long cold
Your heart rolled open then to me
Your heart rolled open, then.

Which put a smile upon my face
So deep it almost hurt
Together we saw a galaxy afar
Together we saw our star.

Sing My Song (day 2075)

When we’re young
We’re all we ever need
Why are we so silent
What makes us hide
Cool wind on my face tonight
And I’m playing a song
In a minor scale
Because I’m sitting here tonight
With no one
To sing my song to

Black Hole (day 2071)

I drew two thick lines
Down the center of my face
To show everyone
Just where I cracked
The day the sky fell
Exposing the gaping black hole
Sucking my dear daylight

Moon at Midnight – Part VI (day 1980)

(part V)

As my footsteps changed slope from uphill to downhill
I crested into a new valley
It was a particularly notable valley cresting
For the view I was afforded stretched from tip to bow
At the far end I could see a tail of smoke rising steady
Hovering for some time at the cloud line
Making its ever looming presence felt
As I looked down and stepped between the pebbles
Dodging in and out of the single-path trail I had been following.

My memory floated back to a woman I once had known
A woman whose smile touched the very essence of a man
Changing him instantly to a friend, forever
I had last seen her walking out of the tack store
In preparation to depart with a fresh pack of jerky
And enough rice to keep me a while,
She had asked where I was off to
And I told her what had honestly come to mind
I shared with her my dream of this land
With leaves the size of a horses head
With trees that bled sugar and turned as red as wine
She looked at me and shaked her head
Scolding that all us men ever want is our devil juice
I explained to her it wasn’t so,
She smiled and knew she was scolding the wrong man
I asked her if she would like to join me
An honest man on an honest journey
To a land beyond, to the East
But she had only replied in jest
Saying: “Honey, I’ve got too many mouths to feed.”

I started at a cracking branch
To my left, not 7 meters away,
I looked and staring back at me
Was a moose, hovering way above my head
He was looking straight at me
Antlers standing so tall and proud
Chewing on a tuft of a shrub
That hung down from the left side of his mouth
He snorted softly as he stared at me
Demanding I respect his space
I nodded back, gave a grunt
And quickly scanned the nearby forest
For any signs of a calf around.

My footstep didn’t stop
Rather, they kept along the trail I went
My heart beating loudly in my cool breath
The words of many an elder echoed in my mind:
“Moose are more aggressive then bears.”
I instinctively touched the blade
That rested at my hip
Foolish to think that such a weapon
Could disengage such a large beast so strong
I couldn’t feel the beast charging
Though I looked to check just in case.

I didn’t relax until I was over the next bend
Which didn’t take long to get
The familiar sound of a creek returned to my ears
No longer wise words warning and uncontrolled heartbeat
Echoing through my every breath
I softly observed the old man’s beard
Growing thicker as I descended into the valley below
Moss crawling higher up trunks of the silent giants
Experienced woods folk always say
That the birds will all be silent when there’s a predator around
So the light whistling of the forest’s inhabitants
The unique call of a raven
Calmed my senses once again.

When I reached a small opening
I dipped my hands in and splashed the fresh creek’s water
To my face, to wash the cold sweat that had gathered
I recognized bear droppings
A short distance from where I sat to rest
Looking at least a week old now
No danger for me, at least for the present
But a sign that they are around
And perhaps some tasty berries, too.

part VII

20151124-vancouver-island-victoria-port-renfrew-trestle-ned-tobin-8

Fog Horn (day 1969)

Where were you?
Alone at last and one day you will see
That my attempts to make things pass differently
Will go un-answered, un-fooled,
Soundscapes passing by my tender touches
In an envelope neatly packed so.
A heavy rain left my sweet flowers
Like pillars of a ruin,
And tapping lightly culls my darkness –
A soft smile about my face.
Willow in the season of dying
Soothes a fog horn off my ragged coastline,
I whistle into the coming darkness:
Where do you lay your head tonight?

Ode to the Setting Sun (day 1766)

Goodbye is not forever,
My sweet heart of mine.
And this moment we have now
Will carry me over
Till the dark sky, once more
Is met by thy face;
Sweet sweet embrace.
Enlivening each our hearts –
Mine so the more –
And our hands shall touch
Tingling.

Sunset across Big Bar Lake in the Cariboo of BC, Canada

Ode to Wild Flowers (day 1763)

As the sun kisses my face
Your blossoms shall kiss my nose –
Fill my eyes with butterflies
And leave me singing songs.
And when I walk up to my shins
Amongst your thriving throng,
My toes shall catch your hearty stems
My fingertips you’ll reach to kiss,
And leave me lost in harmony
Like I’ve once felt before
On a sunny day out at sea
Where my mind remains happy, forevermore.

Wild flowers of the Okanagan, BC

Last Card (day 1625)

Too late, I told myself,
The toilet had already been flushed.
And there, before me,
I stared face to face with
A two faced bandit
Who said he wanted more.
So I, in my duress,
Shook warily as if in fever,
And the last goodbye
Was dealt around
One card at a time.

Counterpose (day 1468)

I’m scared to understand,
Letting ideas ride deep
Into sleepless nights
And I wonder what ifs.
I don’t let wizards
Paint my low brow dark,
I keep satin stains
Along smirk marks of my face.
I crawl into your yellow marks,
Finishing a day old cigarette
That tastes sour
And makes me upset again.
Counterpose my excellence
Awkwardly adjacent
To a sprinkling good luck,
Nickel and dime water fountain.
I’m going back underground.

Post Navigation