To Proceed (day 2488)

I’ve been wondering what the curve of your hips feels like
Watching it sway about the room from my perch
While I lazily ignore the whims of this busy world
Taking you away from me now.
I reach out at every chance I get, of course,
A squeeze that so leaves me enchanted…
And of our conversation while your rainbow of smells
Fill my soul with emotions and memories,
Yet filled with rich vibrancy of time,
That I’ve been counting from me to you
Like flowers in a sunny, afternoon stroll
Through a field that makes me jealous
(Holding memories it so caresses)
Where my feet find sturdy ground to proceed.

Sense of Love (day 2480)

You know how to check my heart for pressure?
Don’t you with those softening hands?
My interested safety seems to hinge
On your ever growing sending
Of what I could only call a good sense of love
I’ve been in the desert after dark sets
Whispering the flowering cactus chant
That left stars out here blinking softly
And now I’m lying here with your hands
Pressing up against my remaining safety.

A Lazy Flower (day 2193)

I came upon a flower that I heard sing a sweet song
It lasted a whole day as I sat there upon a stone
Did you hear me coming?
Did I startle you?
I woke into a soft laid field buzzing of a wild abandon
My mind watched as it bobbed and hummed
A tune I came to love.
I hope my tear of joy didn’t startle you today
Though I tapped your tune onto my knee and whispered my goodbye
As day came on to call my hand
Home I sent away.

Window Drops (day 2171)

Along the ways of window drops
A bird flew out the nest
Cloud came to my very door
And my hair lay flattened down.
Yet every signal
East be at it’s back
Signaled me to rise above
What midnight I had not looked back.
Nor did my animosity
Rumble to a stop
A grinding halting dusty jalopy
My chariot of grim time.
True, each dirt splash lay bare
The deeper grit of sand
Which held my flower to my nose
Thus, bow down low I dearly bade.

Tobacco Pipe Dreams (day 2141)

I carried your tobacco pipe
Like a diamond on my mind,
Two puffs and a closed grip
Ricochet all security
Through the back door:
Creak creak.

And we pass it on
As night songs
From a holy tent with a view
That lisps night skies
Through dreams of a far off land
Whispering endlessly.

But hold me, hold on
Hold the flowers
Growing here so wild
In the palm of your hand
Until it stains your closed grip
The colour of my dream.

Tobacco Pipe Dreams by Ned Tobin