She’s Death (day 2529)

She’s got magic in her hands
And death between her lips
She sings every night a song
That makes me miss my ship
I don’t think I’ll ever send away
The blanket I had specially made
For every day as I sit here
I wish I’d found another lover
Who’d play to me sad sad songs
I could write down to remember
And out I’d go, apart from death
Reaching madly for sunlight.

Bows (day 2484)

I’ve come along for the magic of night
Singing to my reflection ahead
Eyes wide open I’m inside myself
Forgetting all the bows I tied
While waiting by your side
A test I left unwritten, un-scribed
For distractions had taken the best of me
Towards an un-planted tree
Soil so deep I lost my shovel
And turned my soil to better ground
To grow the bio I dream of
Where magic of night shall leave behind
A day to open me up wide

Your Orbit (Honey Reprise) (day 2216)

I want to love you
I want to pour your honey
Upon the night sky
And sing with each star’s song
As witnesses caressing
Our embracing
Like memories they once had
Because we make it more
We mix our transcendence
Like an effective cocktail
Deep and magical
Swirling around us
Until we drop our inhibitions
And erupt in ecstasy
With our backs calling
Upon mountain peaks
To bite like frozen midnight
And thaw in a slow dance
That keeps you close to me
Hoping that night ends like this,
Two stuck souls
In magnetic resonance
And a smile that keeps returning
Along the path of I love you
And I love you
And I want to return to you
What fullness you’ve given me
What reasons and paths
And future to learn
The orbit of your mind
In a day that I can find
Inside the galaxy of my soul.

Your Orbit (Honey Reprise) by Ned Tobin

Moon at Midnight – Part II (day 1976)

(part I)

I woke to complete silence
Yet my knees screamed louder the murder
When I shifted them from slumber
Half crosslegged I had fallen backwards
Into sleep that left smoke trails
Through my dreams.
My nose was hiding itself from the cold
I looked searchingly at the fire
I could feel wasn’t even hopeful.

My pack was close enough
So I knew where matches were
But kindling rested beside my axe
Yet to be shorn from its whole
So were the tea bags that would slowly ooze life
Back into my cold frame
Easily forgetting the eyes of last night’s terror.

I made it a habit not to look back
When I walked away from yesterday’s camp
You don’t need that to remember what’s already known
Like folded socks in the side of my pack
I was well kempt and had a full bottle of water
And the industrious chipmunk
Was happy to see me go
Understood by the sounds of his chatter
That followed me along a path
I was making with my compass pointing East.

My first few steps always remembered
What yesterday so easily forgot
So I stopped and untied my shoe
To clip my nails that were growing healthy
It’s much nicer to put on warm socks
Then cold and wet socks of the first light of morning
And my pack jingled merrily
As I swung it back on.

Scanning the vastness was hard to comprehend
What had alarmed me so easily
The night before,
What creatures our dark mind magically creates,
And now looking back at me was salal so thick
No ghost could sneak through
And my heart reminded my mind
To believe in thy safety one thousand times again.

Slowly my breath found it’s groove
Steadily flowing with each footstep
My packs new bumps settled itself softly
And the world began to expose itself to me
With every step a new angle
A new tree fallen sideways
A slug neatly stepped over
An unidentified toadstool
A river softly gurgling somewhere in the distance
An obstacle I’d have to traverse.

part III

20160214-shawnigan-lake-ned-tobin-11

Ode to a Perfectly Placed Bench to Enjoy Nature (day 1775)

About my way
A merry one I should say
I wondered to myself:
My dear sweet man
What have you done,
You’ve gone and walked yourself out.
So there I was
A bit confused
Wondering what I could do
To rest my weary legs a while
To recoup my troubled mind.
And all at once
You appeared to me
Like some magic: unleashed
And set free,
Which I took as queue
And found my rest
Upon your well worn stead.

a bench in Fort George Park in Prince George, BC

My Poem for You (day 1552)

My poem for you:

I lay with my hands held tight, pretending the story hasn’t been written. I make flasks of mine own elixir that I spill onto your skin so I can lick it up, drop by drop. I run my eyes into a dizzy frenzy knowing the confines of your nape as I do, remembering the past moments as I do, holding the abound bits of magical love between my thighs so tight I know the feeling of urge so deep I gasp uncontrolled at last. Then, upon my calmed finger I begin to gently prowl the exposed portions of your skin so I can know again the feeling of indulge.