Tag: heartbeat

My Breath Caught in Fire (day 2206)

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Crescent of my memory
Shines like water we braved together,
Amidst barnacles and salty slime
Where my dancing heart played games
With the sea lion
That so transfixed your gaze.

We dried our shivering hairs
Upon rocks of an overcast day
That supped with each ebb and flow,
Gathering my breath caught in fire
– each step to the four corners of earth.

An innocence I hadn’t expected
A sensitivity I hadn’t planned
A heartbeat I have learned to only observe
Though my inclining fingers reach towards
For this, long ago, has bowed deeply
To the essence and reality of you.

I Am Not Sorry (day 1974)

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Your choice is my misunderstanding
And for that I am sorry
Your past experience is my current overstepping
And for that I am sorry
Your love is my overwhelming
And for that I am sorry
Your human is my object of admiration
And for that I am sorry
Your patience is my forever questioning
And for that I am sorry
Your vision is my deep desiring
And for that I am sorry
Your time is forever my story
And for that I am sorry
Your absence is my sit and worry
And for that I am sorry
Your journey is my wildest dream
And for that I am sorry
Your heartbeat is my symphony
And for that I am sorry
Your light steps is my pitter-patter
And for that I am sorry
Your sleeping lips are my favorite dream
And for that I am sorry
Your calmest question is my quickest help
And for that I am sorry
Your silence is my sentence
And for that I am sorry

But my love, no, for my love
Which I will not delay
For that I am not sorry

Here To Stay (day 1929)

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I want to go off and into something else
I’m not here anymore, left blowing into the wind.
Where does my pain come from every night?
Leave me there, it’s in my soothing song.
It’s not lines I’ve drawn across my head
Nor lines that draw my sheet to bed,
It’s circles running down my cheeks
To smother every heartbeat I don’t want to forget.
I’ve lost the difference in my dreams,
They’ve come into my days with open eyes
Reaching out to what I see;
Reflections shaking out in twilight’s lake.
Harmony will be my memory’s drawing
As I lay my bedding down as straw,
Take my hand with what I’ve yet to say
And brush my dusty shoes so that it’s here I’ll stay.

Steam (day 1683)

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All that’s left is a silhouette
Screaming out in bursts of steam,
Each echo, forever damped.
Each heartbeat, forever cold
And solemnly lifting this black trailing gown
Lightly off Lucifer’s cold ground,
Frozen unevenly like ghastly daggers
So elegantly strapped
To my heaving chest in triumph.
And so fades thy vision.

More or Less (day 1636)

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Listening to me. Listening to feelings transpose into logic at a thousand frames per second. Listening to a new widow sigh on a train into dark night.

With your help I have gone a step beyond. An echo off in the distance as a bat flaps it’s wings in pure silence. But my heartbeat has become deafening, your pulse as elixir.

Listening to me delicately tap echoing waves into a silent-still pond, fireflies becoming breath upon my eyes here aglow. And a memory, just like you said: life is not more less.

Crispy Wallows (day 1593)

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Crispy wallows and snakes following ancient trails down spirals, leading only to a perfectly spherical, blood-moon-packed dirt bubble where one thousand and one perpendicular lines scarred concave smoothness, remarkably resembling an eerie odessical scene of Labyrinth, David Lynch infused simplicity and snakes. With an omnipresent light leaving no shadows, even in such depths, that echoed with every heartbeat snaking it’s way downward, downward, downward until the downward was no longer downward but stuck in a simple sphere, simply circled as if snakes and ladders were suddenly trapped in an empty crystal ball bubbling with misunderstood and toppled (read:shook) reason that inhabitants were too impatient to digest, leaving perpendicular marks in frightened terror as retraced steps traced their snaking along ancient trails back into the under-root of an atmospheric tragedy they had become familiar with and called home.

Pen Blotches (day 1575)

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I cannot grasp what it will mean to send you off again,
What it will mean to let you go;
Finger tips to finger tips and not looking back
And hearing the roar of big jet planes
Overcome my trembling heart
That fleeting moments have left disoriented,
Direction home now jumbled and unrecognizable
Like the clouds you’ll soon be looking down upon.
I cannot find solace in a text to voice ratio,
In a line to line heartbeat filled of stories from afar.
But I will write until my pen blotches all my
Blank pages sad, and leaves my exclamation marks
Simple puddles in a mess.
So come back soon,
Before my heart begins to beat too soft a vibration,
And my pen runs out of black.

Pen Blotches by Ned Tobin

Steam Engine (day 1566)

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Can you imagine my heartbeat
– Pitter patter it goes –
Living in a coiled roll
Ready to pounce and 
Starting at the slightest of moments.
Can you imagine breath
Holding itself upon faint whispers
Scarcely at my lips,
Crawling around lightly
Like a steam engine
Going by at hours counted
By my tick-tock heartbeat.

Steam Engine by Ned Tobin