Tag Archives: Fly

Allowed To Fly (day 2225)

Where are we allowed to fly?
Crimson dreams that set fire to galactic ghosts
Swinging too slow and forgetting
Each signpost leading us there.

And if words shant be strong enough
Let them capture the North Wind’s fury
Secret wiles of Mudjekeewis
Belt wearing naked bear slayer.

But let not the words of fear
Let our hearts float listless forward
Set wicks to our roaring fires
So we track each evening star.

Who then does this whisper come from
This easy touch of heart I hear
Say it slower so I can embrace
Evening’s wind through cottonwoods.

Is it not enough to lay here?
My opening is widening
I am not forgotten dandelion
I am resting with lilies.

Alone with a Neighbour (day 2151)

Alone I sat
Atop the ol’ cliff
Atop me wise mountain
Gathering reverie.
A hand touched my shoulder –
Sweet emotion I did feel –
A Saint in a brown robe.
With my emptiness
Leading me over deserts
Clouds and the sea,
I was a whisper
Lost in memory
And wind was my friend.
She, we was three,
We sat in our moments
Flying alone
Though neighbours we became.

Dripping (day 1952)

In one breath I could fly
Let anchors drag deep
And mount mountains wildly,
Calling to twinkling stars
In my deepest yearning
To leave all mystery to me
To leave my unnerving heartbeats
Explosions in the sky
As a brocade of waterfalls
Dripping happily from my toes.

2013-08-mount-robson-152-of-496

Autumn’s Wick (day 1937)

As Autumn’s candle blows clouds away
Sharpness enters into this day
At the cost of blue one cannot say
The geese should fly today.
But as Hermes doth say,
“Winter, come our way,”
So must we abide by nature’s law.
And here we are amidst the fray
Swirling leaves on an Autumn day,
And frost spreading it’s silver lining
Along the open grass
With little paw prints
Bustling here and there,
To prepare for Winter’s deep lair,
Shelter and warmth bites the air
Though Autumn’s wick doth get shorter.

Autumn's Wick by Ned Tobin

Forest Trail (day 1870)

Did you ever wander lonely
At a path about the forest
Where squirrels chirp
And fly’s buzz
About and around your presence?
For in the path,
And on the trail
There is silence before you come
A silence that lasts like inhaled breath
And breaks soon enough again.
And on this path where needles fall
Flora grows as wild as wild can be
Blossoms at different times
Spring out to say hello.
Now, if your lucky as a rabbit can be
Some fauna will browse your way
About its trail,
Upon its way
From whence I’ll never know
And likely never see,
In spite exploring
In spite discovering
In spite the many paths one takes
There’s always another
Always a corner
Left for another day.

Asked to be An Angel Again (day 1813)

I was asked to become a guardian
Down low, down low, in a bottom of mud.
Too late, I said,
Coughing and excusing myself;
Toxicity had taken control
Of my asthma, uncontrollably
Letting my lungs flank
Sides of this yellow pole.
I smiled nicely
At the man who said something,
But to him, I wasn’t listening,
I was to busy snoring.
Excuse me, I said,
Under my breath
And a fly came and landed
Above my head,
So I moved on again, up high, up high.

Golden Cleft, Silver Leaf (day 1780)

To me it was the best I could
But in the end, I lament – misunderstood.
Like a diamond engulfed in a suave scarf
I rolled nonchalance, engulfed in Mars.

To be alone in a symbol of peace,
I had a golden cleft, a silver leaf;
A long row of butterflies
And I, wanting only to spread my wings to fly.

Easing words that did not become my name,
I reached a point to which I claimed!
And there I stood, as naked as death,
Where moments stood for my held breath.

20151219 - The Ranch - Ned Tobin - 63

Into My Sky (day 1388)

I’m allowed to fly.
I am going to grab a star so high.
I put out my hand
To feel your every move again.
Can you hear the wind
Let out its breath into the sky.
Can you love me any more?
Can you let your love fly high above.
Come and dance and spin.
Come and let the world take you in.
Walk into my arms.
Look into my heart that’s never done.

Unforgiven (day 1201)

I cannot be unforgiven.
I cannot untie the lesions
Fluttering around pickaxes
Tickling my mind.
I am an unborn, mon amis,
A shackling wreck
Anchoring my finer points
To big firs and pines.
I am a fascinated child
Playing footsie with a wench,
Smiling shyly.

I cannot be unforgiven.
I cannot backfire my heart
And pickle rabbits in garlic water.
I know I’m one letter flying,
B and my C tiger,
Loading box spring mattress sets
Into Ford Ranger pickups.

I cannot be unforgiven
Selling chanterelles,
Those spicy succulent fungi,
To slightly unhealthy social workers
That pick-pocket Pez dispensers
Out of working hard pre-teens.
This mattress does not fly,
These firs do not bend,
This wench does not grin,
And I am not fickle.

Hallows of my Skull (day 1200)

I carved your name into the hallows of my skull
Like a safety razor bringing back memories.
I was a Tiffany lamp casting butterflies
About the light pink empty walls of my mother’s wall.

Leaving the fly buzzing about my shifty hairs
I focused my every ounce on the skulls
Which stared back at me with unwavering attention.
It was here I lost my nerve to the valiant stork.

However, I did not float with green lantern’s cast shadow,
I dipped my soul below the line of respite
To gasp the warm air and feel the baby cacti
Rustle about closed loops of my hallowed skull.

Safety bird whistles cast dubious high pitched whispers
Towards my groaning and croaking ways,
And as I rested my wrists on the folded wooden crow
The sporadic clicking calmed my beating heart.

Post Navigation