Tag Archives: Yellow

Afternoon Clover (day 2170)

Afternoon, Clover
Bring me Yellow, forever
In tunes leftover
Imagining another
Toes dipped into
Running water
Reflection’s gone
On muddy shores
Of afternoon, Clover.

Caveman (day 2129)

I was influenced by a caveman
A landscape with two carved rocks
And fire to keep me awake at night.

We were inseparable
Two rhinestones in a yellow cup
Dead blind in middle earth
Losing daylight hours
In our metronome;
Lessons influenced
By a better man.

Home again, paid again
Leaving marks upon little stones
Giving a poem to memory
On a midnight string and there you are
A stonemason and a better man.

Moon at Midnight – Part XIII (day 1987)

(part XII)

I could feel them before I saw them
When you walk through the forest
As much as I do
You know when something is a bit off
You look around searching for what it is
But keep walking as If nothing is wrong
As if you don’t suspect a thing
And don’t want it, whatever it is,
To know you’re on to it
It’s during these few steps
That you grow eyes on every part of your body
Listening and sensing and feeling and seeing
I always hope that whatever it is
Sees me and gets scared off
Because you know whatever it is
Means business if it doesn’t.

I put my palms to the front of me, open,
And stayed my path
But before to long I was forced to stop
By a native man standing in front of me
He had yellow paint across his eyes
And dots in red everywhere else
Yellow lines covering exposed skin on his body
His gun, resting on the ground
Was taller then him
I knew if push came to shove
I would be quicker then him at getting my gun
But I could see he’d be quicker with his knife.

As I came near I began to see
More and more of his brothers
Floating in and out of my vision
Playing havoc with my mind
There was no point in resisting
So I slowly pulled from my pocket
A large piece of moose meat
Amy and Frank had given me
And bowed before him with it in my hand, raised
He stood there without saying a word
Me bowed in front of him
For several minutes
Until finally he took the offering and ate it
And I stood up looking him in the eye
He said: “Frank. Amy.” and smiled
And patted me on the shoulder
I guess he knew the special flavor
They put on their jerky,
It was unique I had already admitted.

He pointed at me, and I said: Joe
With this he stopped dead in his animation
And stared directly into my soul
I saw him lose sight with far away eyes
And a vision come over him
Before I knew what was happening we were surrounded.

I had no choice in the matter and was led back to their camp
What hurry was I in?
They were friendly and had offered
To carry some of my things
Had offered me a horse
But I had said no
And their fast pace was slowed
To accommodate my slower, heavier footsteps
The trail was clearly used
And not hard to follow
Though we were walking south for three hours
I came to learn through one of the men
A bit about who I was with.

part XIV

My Chest (day 1889)

All the innocence has just left my body
Angels wilting as sunflowers
Along roads striped in yellow
Blue skies dotted with white exclamation points
Into dreams I’m trying to fall back into
On a hazy morning bed
With a slight smell of campfire
Tinglin’ my nostrils
And a ladybug slowly crawling
Six legs at a time
Across the roof to cannonball onto my chest

My Chest by Ned Tobin

Ode to a Maple Tree (day 1758)

Dear Maple, so sweet
Your heart is my nectar
To warm on the cold days
To taste and to glow.
But that’s not all
Of your marvelous fall,
For yellows and browns
And greens and oranges
And burgundies and maroons
And suns golden hues
Shall greet me in splendor
From your largest of limbs
From your gloriously iconic leaves
And float to the ground
In a rain of pure gold
For all to behold
And bow to your throne.
And in spring
When your life shall return
I anxiously watch each blossoming bud
Counted with pure delight
From the ground where I await
In the birth of your spread
In the mirth of your stead
And smile
As I enjoy what beautiful view
Always awaits by your thick
And porous and clunky trunk.

large maple tree looking out over lake

Rolling Circles (day 1580)

I am beginning to observe this once again,
One two three one two three one two three.
And your elegance makes my romance
Waltz as a leaf in autumn’s light breeze.

Let this hand be lead for thee,
One two three one two three one two three.
And my pen write again because
Circles rolling down these widening streets.

“Late,” said the bus to a leaning signpost,
One two three one two three one two three.
And if recollections could be the bumblebee
Sun would soak yellow into sands of our memory.

Yellow (day 1570)

Shake your hands little man
Rumble rumble rumble.
Shock proof and submerged
I’ve become a yellow alien
Lost in a foreign land.

Shake it in a glass pint of feel good yellow
Until it hurts so hard nutshell
There begins quite a rumble.
Put your guns outside now,
The blood is run down.

Bitter is the agent of change;
A sour heart upon edges of my spine.
My yellow in the midst of your confusion.
An iron, coyly, in a state of disconnect
And my flattening ceases, rumble rumble.

I hope you found the keys –
Open sitting etched wooden door.
Explanations come out
Flight from a thousand monarch butterflies
In a thousand shades of yellow.

Ever Field (day 1516)

To be in a field of yellows here,
Set aside and lightly dusted.
Times we open hearts,
And times we take our shelter,
There are times we can wish for more,
Green it grows it grows it grows.
A dusty footstep leaves a story here,
Wild weeds share ancient scent
That blows and blows and blows
And blows about our ever field.

Drift (day 1494)

A funny situation has left me struggling,
Self medicated anxiety turning yellow, brown and white.
Upside down and round and round,
There’s nothing left here now.
It used to be a lasting impression
Behind safety walls and rusty cars;
Tall grass means it’s summer.
I am a drifter,
Drifting whisper,
Into my drift I sweat.

Counterpose (day 1468)

I’m scared to understand,
Letting ideas ride deep
Into sleepless nights
And I wonder what ifs.
I don’t let wizards
Paint my low brow dark,
I keep satin stains
Along smirk marks of my face.
I crawl into your yellow marks,
Finishing a day old cigarette
That tastes sour
And makes me upset again.
Counterpose my excellence
Awkwardly adjacent
To a sprinkling good luck,
Nickel and dime water fountain.
I’m going back underground.

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