Tag Archives: Rose

Come Here Before (day 2113)

I am filled with forbidden passion
And necromancy
Unbid and skeletal
In a full moon sitar
Keeping me up at night
Eyes stare calmly
Dancing a slow waltz
With herself
Through a barren rose garden
And two lines of benches
Marked with names
Of those came here before.

Spoons of Sorrow (day 1959)

When I walk into an empty room
When I reach my palms for the sky
As essence, I’m a ghost
And sunrise brings tomorrow
With ten thousand spoons of sorrow.

I am a prophet in a rose
With two hands tied by thorns,
Fence posts painted white
Along dew kissed morning lawns.

When I sit amidst thousand year old trees
When I wave crookedly in heaven’s winds
My heart becomes a dead leaf
Integrating so effortlessly into a path
Dust to soil to earth to spring.

So long shall my stalk bend
Two ends of a hemp string crossed,
Seeds falling on gray wood
And harvest moon is my birth.

Journals (day 1902)

I want to prescribe my love to a book,
Hold it like dead leaves
Ready for to crumble.
I want my dreams to spill
Into a molten desert
My toes slowly roast in,
Pealing at the seams
As my typed heart scowers
Horizon lines flickering between
Icy reverence and painful reality
And papercuts
That read like smudged fingers
Of a well loved journal.

Journal by Ned Tobin

Return (day 1528)

Return my mouth of suffering;
Return to a place where a brook lightly flows,
Where footsteps – delicately laid –
Digress with foggy mountain hillsides
Tangled deep amidst rose bushes,
Willow whips, cedars wide and pine needles fallen.
Return my mind to awake and aware,
Where fluttering wings present
Gusts of wind amidst tiny chatter from illustrious nutcrackers.
Return me to my home –
Nestled among wild things,
For ohana lives there.
Namaskar, Namaskar, Namaskar.

Thrill (day 1525)

Opening door
Holy roller
Betting on good times
Hand full of roses.

Opening heart
Small bag of essences
Dripping in gold
Hot bed of desire.

Opening trail
Gorging thrill.
Random my choice,
Hammering noise.

Jagged (day 1452)

Like a rose
My heart unfurled into
Untangled mess,
Jagged first touch.

Ashram Day 22 (day 1425)

If you’re homesick,
Let rain wash you home.
If you’re silent,
Let music slowly cry.
If faces never cease to smile,
Let good hearts believe
And deeply caress thee,
And settle your soul
Into a tiny canvas bag
Ensigniated with a rose.

Roses with a Name (day 1389)

Lost at home
Inside muddled and laughter
That strangles and whispers
And tickles the tips.
But what of wild roses
That line the garden path?
What makes a heart shine
When all about is hard rain?
Come hither, mad man,
Come into pure mind.
Make out faint lines
Beyond a place called by name.

Walking Home With a Sunset (day 1313)

Your pulse is an imaginary prism,
Fixating between red, purple and rose,
Shifting with every passing moment
And lingering upon lips
Like a foreign accent.
How deeply can these hues beget
With winter’s sun
Hanging upon sky’s brow so low?
Three sides and full strides
From now until the end of time.

image

Thorn (day 1261)

I once laid my eyes upon
An autumn so yellow and red,
That spoke to me of Monarchy;
The golden days of ol’.
Here I tarried a while
Pondering on the past,
Only to find, as I divined,
I had been transformed into a lord
Who had about, in glorious splendor,
A thousand man devoted train.
But to my alarm,
And quite disarming,
I hadn’t a desire to call mine own.
So my yawn was feigned,
My brow was fanned,
And of my rose was left a thorn.

Post Navigation