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Monthly Archives: April 2022

Giggly Tickler

the giggler's
baby index finger tickled
the rotund pot belly,
but the heavy lug slept
out like a rock

but wanting to go outside
the toddler said

again

the wormy finger tips gouging
but
the loafer just a slug,
as a lump on siesta

but precocious kids
don’t giveup
and certainly not this
little wiggly tyke

seeing the sleeper
playing possum
the toddler
jabbed
poking with all the strength,

but the toughguy still didn't budge

then the infant's notetoself-

this killjoy
is a holding me back but
i'm
laughingly alive

pushing with all the life within
shouting

git out of my road you dead lump

cleaving through the granite boulder,
the seed's stem broke through the surface ground
reaching up and stretching out
new giggling green fingers
to greet the sun








4.4 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson
 
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Posted by on April 26, 2022 in Poetry

 

Screen Day

red eyes blink
squint flutter open

stump to the big box
press
whirrrr
stare

screen too bright
pain glow

pull the blinds
stare
i don't see a thing

to the bathroom
stare
turn magazine pages
but i don't read


grunt
pull postage stamps
wipe look
wipe again

back
the pc-idiotbox
eye screen
the world reports
old

with the takeover
of the pc
in the face

drugged
to just not do it
but eyeball the nudies
all day
drained

look
stare
empty
emptiness
emptied

kids
don't go outside
these days
don't explore
play ball
chase butterflies

too brain-dead
staring at the five inch
brain-sucking gametoy

back to
my forty inch
brainsucker

stomach growls
*toot

water for tea
wash face
brush teeth
shave stubble
underarm deodorant
steep teabag

put in two slices of toast
sit again
siestatime

try thinking
for grins
but i don’t want to think

try to think again
stare
slack jaw

sip tea
thawing
sip tea

ringing in the head
it’s another day
time to do...
siesta
stare

don't noodle
no thing tastes
sit down again
sipping more tea

solitary
silent

munch on toast
dry without taste
like sawdust

esophagus burns
head pain behind the eyes
bone tired

another day
march the somethingth

listen
to the sounds
cars
the pc fan
the rattling
of the radiator
cars & trucks
sloshing by–

but no bird songs

not a thing
not
a
flipping thing–

just me
this
like paint drying grass growing

a sinking ship
as
i
sit
just
...











3.9 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson 
 
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Posted by on April 26, 2022 in Poetry

 

Spring Sun

the dark spring morning
ambulance siren screaming
hoarfrost drops flower

spring birds tap the glass
nesting grass and twigs falling
the icu bed

the lungs filled with phlegm
septic shock from pneumonia
the spring sun lifts up

1 foot in earth-bed
pipes of fluids pierce the veins
breathing the spring day




3.4 10/7
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson  
 
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Posted by on April 26, 2022 in haiku, Poetry

 

Crone

time

is the crone
a flowing
like vapor

celestial
impartial

the river
burbling
below
is it fast
or slow

i don't know
but
i am caught
in
the crone's toe

the rear range
grow in age

sands tinkle
dropping slide
the hourglass

as dust gold
or just glass

the tree of
availability

her
green leaves form
genetically

fertilizing
the potentiality

is time
providence
or
the joke of
appurtenance

the guided dance
or drifting

does the crone
emanate
from the living

or does the life
come from her

she calls me
now to side

if i fiddle
ride hide
or back slide

the only thing
for darned sure

her













2.0 6/4
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson
 
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Posted by on April 25, 2022 in Poetry

 

Nut Wars

on day ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ of the squirrel war
tensions tween the gray squirrels 
and the black 
come 
a chisel-toothed head

this nut-war hopped up 
by the sinister 
black squirrel leader nutpin  

the proverb 
among the squirrels- 

things that just don't stop-   
nutpin as leader of the blacks   

the black squirrels ambushed the grays 
cutting them off from 

their nut caches
and cannibalize many
like the reds do  

the gray leader fuzzytailskyy 
once breaking the acorns 
of gray gatherings 
a bucktoothed chattering card

now their leaping squeaker  

the two hundred and eighty 
clans of squirreldom 
hop that

the gray leaders 
were liars for years  

the early shadow of 
fuzzytailskyy
he steals from the blacks
caches of acorn and chestnut 

hidey-holes
acting on siesta to hide food
for the clan 

but just a shyster for himself

now he's looked at as a rodent martyr

with the squeaking art
as of
the tree-nibbling squeaker squirrelhill 

the grays 
have a club-of-haterrodents 

the twisted tail 
rat asses plan to sabotage 
all the nongray 

they bite the whole 280 fur shades of
squirreldom 

they chatter of gray-rule

squeaking out haterrodent jingos 
of an all gray 
squirrel
-world

walking all their eighteen toes  
like the geese web along   

fuzzytailskyy chattered
from the large chestnut tree 

he gave extra 
acorns 
to the club-of-haterrodents
a hair-brained hound-dog alliance
to attack nutpin 

this sour squeak of fuzzy's 
should have electrified the tails and 
ears 
pricked straight up 

the whole two hundred and eighty
clans 
of the squirrel alliance   

yes, nutpin the black
the nut hungry rat-assed-rodent 
bass turd 

but the gray leader fuzzytailskyy
gave nutty gifts 
to the club-of-haterrodents

faraway red 
and white squirrel cousins gave nuts 
to the club of rats also 

their toes caked with rat droppings too
a shared off-fence 

against all 
the squirrel and chipmunk

even some squeak 
the gray club-of-haterrodents
cannabalize their gray comrades 

to pin 
the black pawed hind feet on nutpin










4.6 10/10
© an hour ago, Brian Peter Hodgkinson 

 
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Posted by on April 24, 2022 in Poetry

 

The Hermit And The Oak Tree

the hermit woke early
in his shire forest home
out the door
padding his feet
to the clearing
to the acorn he planted

a tree hugger
in his inner core
saw
the sprouting twig
with unfolding light green
baby leaves
his chest bursting buttons

for many years
the same morning jog
now the sapling a sturdy oak tree
hugged
as the sun crested the forest horizon

he saw the buds of spring
the bell-like leaves of july
the acorns of autumn
turn yellow orange and red
and pile the ground

he saw the naked gray of winter
but looking up spotted some old brown leaves
dry and dead that managed to cling on
through the whipping winter gusts

he put it in his head
to climb the tree
and pick the ugly things off

but they were high and reaching for
a dead crinkly leaf
lost his grip
and fell to his death

his body decomposing under the tree
weeks passed to spring
the oak buds pushed
the old stragglers

drifting down to litter his corpse







4.0 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson 
 
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Posted by on April 22, 2022 in Poetry

 

Snip Knots

sitting
the sunny porch
book in hand the eyelids droop
siesta snore

looking up at all
    the green growing things

below the black-eyed susan
      like sun spots
by the purple hibiscus

ahead to the left

three trees

i've seen them for years
didn't under stand 

maple trees
but
you'd not guess

climbing
ivy has coiled the trunks like leafy boa constrictors

buddha said two things
make the world full of unsatisfactoriness
(dukka)
i cling,
i push -

i felt like
taking the ladder and big scissor shears
and snipping
the ivy from the host maples

the poor things can't take their gorgeous
out to play

but the job nipping off those green ropes
a bone-headed errand

as with all people








4.4 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson
 
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Posted by on April 22, 2022 in Poetry

 

May I Take Your Order?

in my fifth year,
dad bought into franchise
of drive-ins
a restaurant chain

the waitresses in shorts
skated to the cars
hung trays
on the rolled down
windows
took the orders
skating to the fry cooks
for coney dogs
texas burgers
french fries
and their signature root beer served in frosted
glass mugs

the logo showed
a cartoon dog wearing a floppy chef cap
in waiter uniform
stripe down the pant leg
and bow tie

circular red background
holding
tray with a hotdog
and mug of sudsy root beer

my job
at five
police
the area around
the v shaped building
for litter

poking
hotdog wrappers tossed out of cars
with
a nail tipped dowel rod

filling up
a big plastic bag

i got a dime an hour
even then
wasn't impressed
with dad's cheapskate pay

but today
would jump through flaming hoops
to sink my teeth into one of those coney dogs with
the sauce and diced onions
soaking down a tankard
of the frosty root beer
best in the world

missing the good ol' days






4.3 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson 
 
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Posted by on April 22, 2022 in Poetry

 

the possum

the possom so close to roadkill
crossing the street tonight
but the yellow pinpoint beams of eyes
front tires screeching to a halt
the fat bristly thing to twinkle-toe across
dragging a pink rope like tail
peered up at me
triangular face with beady eyes locking mine
the gnashing yellow teeth
mouthing,
git dafeck out of my backyard
found myself short with this snarling creature
made me wait, jaywalking slo-mo quite on purpose
imagine that









2.7 9/6
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson
 
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Posted by on April 22, 2022 in Poetry

 

Traincars

ambrosia pinklady and honeycrisp
jonathan rome grannysmith gala fuji
and mcintosh
like shining rubies as harvest apples appear
at farmer roadside stands

paper bags for stacked ears
corn on the cob the squeak-sound of pulling down
the silk checking for worms
removing the husks cooking
salt shaker slather butter up and down
the front teeth chattering like a typewriter
clearing the cob row after row
then a toothpick
or a fingernail

when the tooth fairy stole my front
teeth at the age of six mom
removed the corn from the cob
with a sharp knife
to chew with my back teeth
called the
strips of kernels traincars

she's flown this planet forty years now
but her warm nearness
as the harvest in early fall










3.3 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson
 
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Posted by on April 21, 2022 in Poetry