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Killing Field

the days shorten as dark umbra extend, 
foretelling the struggle of a bitter end

summer waning wearing away, 
Halloween ghouls come out to play

molting trees shedding crimson leaves, 
cornstalk scarecrows are perches for thieves

crushed pumpkins cover a killing field, 
blood-stained Earth must be healed

fleeing fowl flit their feathered escape
ahead of the north wind's howling gape

Grim knifing with its icy claws
entombs with rock-candy all that was

a blanketing tent of suffocating clouds
with darkening screens of snow enshrouds

Earth is terminal these last brief days
longing for the sun with its cheering rays

though health seems hopeless, hoping keep,
for Earth will rouse from its restless sleep



 
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Posted by on April 23, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Bury Me in Mine

tired jeans crumpled on the floor
simple in thread-bare wrinkles
fading blue an old man's mind
washed-up rebel forgot the cause
the rut of a conformed statement
cloned working-class uniform,
but just culture to put on
bagged fit, absorb the whole body
soften the pretentious air,
or relaxed fakes out the fat
or tight to bulb the bubbles
or straight to band the boots
or belled to familiar a freedom
of hair and a movement
some low-cut swank the crack
came out, those low hip huggers
droop down their derrieres,
yes, in the '70s
but amazed how history
in the USA could be
recorded in a pair
of pants? .. many are
limp,
and just need a toss




 
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Posted by on April 13, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Let Go

Winter weeping must now let go
its bitter grip of ice and snow;
frost-bitten trees burst out in leaf,
and soon forget their latest grief.
The sun breaks through to heat the earth,
gives mass-explosion of green birth,
the land throws off its captive's hold,
so earth perfumes can now grow bold.

Let go of all the former things;
a bumblebee twice never stings
and change is sure, as certain is
the song the chubby robin sings.




© Brian Hodgkinson Jr. (aka) –Limericist 2007/2021

 
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Posted by on April 5, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Physic

Seated still,
change is speeding up
now I see light
an alien grimaces back in my bathroom mirror
every day, I think I’ll capture my story
from the coasts
of personal and private,
woven points of light and dark
but still, I can not,
meantime, I AM
cycling a scrambler in and out
where no “here is me” can be determined,  
but a fanning multi-me

our ball travels
a billion-mile oval
around a gas giant
fusion-light succeeds us constantly
with unstable currencies.
The traditional
cannot sustain holding on
eject, or else
as
there is zip not
Milky Way

At lightspeed,
I remain frozen,
a snapshot of history
fixed coincident with nevermore.
Galileo and Newton were correct,
our satellite is clipping along
faster than any human-made rocket,
and I am obliged
to void.

.

.

Limericist 2007/2021

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2021 in Poetry

 

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