Crack On

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    

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    

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    

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 

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    

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    

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    

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