friends saw us said the two are like peas in a pod looking at you said me at me said you together the electric years few as close buddies we no inflation or fluff we shared the oof the eyes lit up seeing you sparkling back at me but now pffft the flowers droop withered today we said us breaks apart the throb in the chest is turned downtempo the binocular lenses smudged and cracked at headbanger junction but i'm not bummed no whine with cheese i'm bittersweet but the new siesta not just me solo going to climb the blue mountains partnering with the lively friend not met 3.1 7/5 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
New Climbing Partner
Bird Cherry Tree
under the tail squeezed it out the bird sowed the seed in flight hit the stone statue splashed white the rain swept the dot to earth to the grass between the blades near the dry sand walking path into wet soil dug by worms down yellow-green baby root drinking the dirty water rounding back pushing to sun sticking the bird cherry tree to stand narrow greening leaves sprays of flowers and red fruit the feathered claws eat and poop 2.1 10/8 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
The Last Call
goblins of oil-slicked forest swamps banshee, gnomes, huldra, whorgs, the naissance and mud-smeared trolls of yonder fairy bridges the poet beckons your ears like canting witches creep out - creep out - you twisted scowls un-shadow come slavering to the last battle creep forth your slithering heads fish-eyed cold into full flaunt humpback sprouting tangled kobold legends bedded in bardic olden terrors tailed night creatures with slimy feathers occult magic woven in your earthy noir reveal - reveal - your gorgeous horror grendel of myrridyn sheath ivories no more reprove humankind's dark sorcerer snake oil their arrogance would deny terra mater's lore and by their willful ignorance plague her to the core awake - wake you sleepy giants with timbered owls whose sinewed scarred faces are lined with wizened frowns and holes of hollow mouths growl strangled frozen howls you are chopped and burned into charred stump memory sacrificed to the idol of mortared industry amass leafy armies to flout this foe of dung ere choking smog destroyeth thee from under the sun and this bereft bard must wail earth's destruction done 1.5 10/10 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson rhyme
Amber
i still see their faces bubbling the gray stuff in my bone head pictures like yellowed photographs the set faces noses mouths and lips lines of their bodies the holographs looking three-d animated messages like r2d2 screened the bit from ob-wan gesticulating thin air like a museum of science with the slab of amber yellow-orange translucent the giant dinosaur mosquito frozen sculpture no matter how many years pass not a day older that's how i see them picturing their lives happy without me and my today's the siesta without them and no black arts can conjure that fossil mosquito to drink blood again 2.1 9/7 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
The Chase
pepper-mill-chase gold sign says the gate dressed up with flowers white apple blossoms greet cars i siesta foot the 'trance turning eyes to clouds and trees and all my walk i'm asking why this path is named the chase where is the mill of granite to press and grind the seed corn or small pepper balls to squeeze here i stand done striding round the thinker sewed the eyes black 3.5 10/7 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
zap
puffy white clouds pink gray brains fight the yellow face of sun swell with black water to turn feet to the rivers and lakes the fire stick splitting the sky bites the barked branch blasts it off to sing the earring poet's head burning feathers off his neck swim siesta blood-eye dead
4.7 10/7
yellow star
the new yellow sun swelled day all the flowers and the grass the forest black with long old roots hide leaf from the sun swelled say the trees with gnarled bark and sigh with thick branches push the sky so the small red flowers die the mouths of the forest eat killing them flesh bone and blood yellow star full moon the mud 4.1 9/6 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
earth mountain road
i walk the earth mountain road long and narrow the forest hearing of this i live now cut a stick to hold in hand stand and see the foggy sky on salt ledge stop and lie the cloud spits on the mountain like thick smoke on the tree tops a cold wind blows stabs to freeze rubbing wet with itching knees over rivers lakes and seas snaking red and left and right hunt this day clawing the fight snow and ice two feet of white pushing through sharp at the knife feet like stone the dull black night no moon's laugh or star to sing fear to sleep flower to fling vomit pull if liver fall down the sandstone ridge to bite 2.7 9/7 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson rhyme
the screaming abdab
hard to have a talk with him like walking a field of hair-trigger landmines stormy with ideas you might say then booming in the face at the top of his bull-horn lungs for the misdemeanor a prima donna, a diva in his mirrored eyes and he earned the chops at a height of six foot six, waited the little people to hop to and take note of his broadcasting persona a star from the age of sixteen a pioneer on the ground floor of canadian radio broadcaster in winnipeg he looked like clark gable heartthrob of the lady fans writing scented letters to him his budding career punctuated by by four years as a flier in the rcaf 401 squadron in world-war two shot down in his spitfire over dunkirk france the remainder of the war in german prison camps post-war back to radio broadcasting in ottawa married a woman looked like marilyn munroe they became citizens to the usa taking residence in north royalton ohio hired on with the radio station whk cleveland as the director of the station he and his partner bred german shepherds crafted a house built from an 1800s barn in auburn ohio and in 1960 they took two boys from an orphan home ages four and three made them their family the eldest of the brothers with the junior addendum growing up but picked on by "the senior" from the weight he placed on his label junior branded "the black sheep" after the teens father said he went fifty/fifty his raising kids for in srs eyes junior the zero that dropped the ball he fit a sized thirteen shoe (and often said he'd put it up junior's...) --wore only an eight and a half berating the child he gave a family warned not to tarnish "his" bigness this is not to put my dad down in any way but to put out there if others feel belittled by often well-meaning parents -- my dad always meant well (in his own eyes), but could be quite hurtful with his unbridled opinions - i made similar mistakes too. My fathers book https://www.amazon.com/Spitfire-Down-Story-Memoir-Second/dp/1894131061/ref=sr_1_1?crid=7K0LOOS8009H&keywords=spitfire+down+brian+hodgkinson&qid=1652665359&sprefix=spitfire+down+brian+hodgkinson%2Caps%2C53&sr=8-1 4.2 10/10 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
homogen eyes
this evening the lights stayed on later the moon bubbled out of the powder blue sky viewed with head back walking home from buying bacon at the grocers the pock marks on the bubble look like a standing homo sapien with two legs and a torso but no head or crane the head and turn the eyes sideways and see two ears of a rabbit on the moon-bubble hanging in thin space the house smells like bacon now dark outside the moon still bubbles out the black overhead like a giant glowing hot-air balloon still-life little sparks of airplanes and firebugs pulsing by the floater insect eyes 3.9 10/10 © Brian Peter Hodgkinson
Crack On 