Author Archives: Brian Peter Hodgkinson

About Brian Peter Hodgkinson

I write.

It Started With One Bag

walnuts in the shell
the whole bag tossed on the lawn
gray and black squirrels

scratching sound porch door
the squirrel teeth to chew more
pantry is empty

squirrels lined a row
on the patio long bench
the fans of the house

old peanut butter
tails shaking the eyes bugging
squirrel siesta

hundreds of squirrels
with plans to pirate the house
squirrel brigands rise

4.1 10/8
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 23, 2022 in haiku, Poetry



This is based on a true story. In 2010, I was extremely ill with pneumonia from H1N1. I was in the VA for two weeks. I came home no better because I was so powerless and couldn’t get out of bed. I got an encouraging kick out of a cardinal dancing up and down outside my window. He wanted me to get up and put a peanut on my sill. This is a rework of my poem High Note, more accurate to the actual event.


i like to think that i’m in control
the sleeping pneumonia had tied me to bed
resentment took over controlling my soul

allow my life back my get up and go
the powerlessness tricked me i wished i were dead
a raging frustration had taken control

let me die now fling me in a hole
then cardinal flew by with a bright flash of red
while whining self pity darkened the soul

the sill of the window he phweeted his role
a phweet phweet he commanded flicking his head
the jester chirped on, uplifting my soul

at his good pleasure he readied to go
a phweet phweeted goodbye and off he sped
red chirped me this tweet – god’s in control

© Brian Peter Hodgkinson


Posted by on May 23, 2022 in Poetry



is in my mind today revolving all
around in non-stop disarray,
and blabs without sound? but hid-
den there are treasures still to mine
will if I'm aware. an opening there
foreboding as a cave of hopeless quest-
to dare we must be brave, but
if we chance our fear to fight
we'll see the light of new expanse.
the greatest pioneers were not those who sailed ships,
but those who sought frontiers taking inner trips
to think again outside the box
to be humanly unorthodox

iambic tetrameter, limerick
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 22, 2022 in Poetry


Transport Tube Hiding Place

the portal to another space
a worm-hole transport tube escape
enclosed in a foam rubber wrestling mat
to pass through to the isolated place
between the periods ghosting in
to the gymnasium storage room
the wrapped up mat in long blue tube
with a doorway hole in the center ring
and i don't know why i crawled there
inside that little doorway commune cave
in the black hole sucking me inside
addictive to hide in that capsuled space
the smell of new rubber and gym shoes combined
untouchable inside and only my kind
the vanishing student by the transport tube
a worm-hole transport tube escape

iambic pentameter, sonnet form
3.6 7/5
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
1 Comment

Posted by on May 21, 2022 in Poetry


Feeding the Fish

the lapping on the hull
the harbored ship in dock
the rope around the wooden post
the wake of ships to lap
the passing boats in wash
to push the rills ashore
in cadence beat against the side
combining high the tide
the anchored boy in berth
below the deck in rack
to hear the distant boaters pass
the water rocks his head
his dinner knocks to "up"
the leaning over rail
with fishing food to chuck

2.7 9/7
iambic trimeter, subtle rondeau rhyme, the meter like a wave 
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    

Posted by on May 21, 2022 in Poetry


Insomniac with Birdsong

forgo the blunders with the missing sleep
so far bequeathed by the dismissed critique
of olden, seamless, unencumbered keep
the genius resting, morning bird-songs peep
around his rookery bed, the window sill
loud noises of perennial squawk and shrill
and float today into the snuffing night,
from many a dreamless snort and armpit smell
Unslumbered and grumptuous, red-faced day
window with nestling birds the bumbling screen
there have they lain the chickies, and will lay
rattling upon their windows to the sheep
until the later ogre shall punch the cheek
then dunce by hand and cudgels to be screamed
In raging he shall spin and on the carpet sleep

4.2 9/7
having fun with iambic pentameter, rima rhyme scheme 
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    rhyme 

Posted by on May 20, 2022 in Poetry


The Surfers

they catch the waves with shining boards
under the spray in curling tubes
riding the water swirl, through whorls

the lifting waves beneath their hurls
to focus with the climbing walls
gun like a lightning bolt their shores

2.4 9/6
iambic tetrameter, limerick rhyme
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 20, 2022 in Poetry


Here It Comes

today the bluebird sky cavorted with leaves
the sun-green treetops dotted with pink
a steady wind providing shaking heaves
to bring down billions of whirligig seeds

when spinning down look like locust wings
them coming down in clouds to sweep up
a pink winged mist from the sky descends
the eye follows after pinpointing one out

the whole way spinning to touch spinning the ground

1.9 7/4
having fun with iambic pentameter, rondeau rhyme 
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 19, 2022 in Poetry


The Neo

the poet-bard lost their language amid the drama of night
of which, still flashes the words to fizzle from sight

until the pink agent is stalled, stilted dumb
this poet-bard who once sang of everything 

when now, perplexed by the singing sung
again, may find the urge to kindle the fire of his tongue

the cloven flame vibrating above his dome
to yet sing the celestial hymn, its radiance intone

of the intricate creation of all
to query, to unmask everything to what is now

too minimal, she ridiculed his Dodge Colt life 
with her BMW Z series sports car strife

to the poet, plainness is a wealth
and ponderousness, often their ill-health

he kept subtracting --letting go of more 
and even dumped offering the critiquing score

Is the poet bereft of words a poet or bard?
this writing rad thinker once sight-marred

the neo spotted blind the dying coal
then fanning orange, a tiny spark relit the core

a new breathtaking wonder inflamed
the neo-poet prophetic bard unchained

*all in iambic pentameter, blank verse, alternate rhyme
2.1 8/5
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
Leave a comment

Posted by on May 19, 2022 in Poetry


The Casqued Hornbill Laughing

with joe, out of doors this dazzled morn
the sunlight pours down through the branches
in kenya at zero latitude
i sit on the step viewing my life
the doby dog wet nuzzles my hand
to scratch the black fur he looks at me
the doberman pincer with stubby tail
the muscles bulging from his hind legs
on overhead branch a hornbill sits
with gutteral call taunting the day
the kakamega forest is near
of birds and monkeys all visit here
the children were given a large cat
some norwegian friends that went back home
this cat called merlay is daughter's cat
an angry cat that fights with doby
the cat climbs the tree waits for the dog
then leaps the dog's back claws digging deep
dog yelping cat riding like a horse
the hornbill still coughing loud guffaws

4.9 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
1 Comment

Posted by on May 17, 2022 in Poetry