Saturday, October 8, 2016

Before Days are Old

Somewhere beneath the same sky,
I'm here like you, gazing at the same moon.
Somewhere like you I'm wondering why,
if you stand beneath these stars and feel as alone.
I'm sure you're sleeping now or will be soon,
I wonder if the questions are my own.

Do not wonder if a heart will stray,
not mine, today, tomorrow or any time after.
I've known only one way to find my way,
that leads someday to a home I've never known.
Somewhere in your smile and your laughter,
the seeds of my happiness of are sown.

Something so easy and so ordinary,
these roads never come with their own signs.
Somewhere the world becomes less scary,
and we put aside fears to talk of ordinary things.
Finding happiness and joy outside the lines,
I would find a way to spread my wings,

So comes this strangeness of night,
unsettled loneliness and the search for sleep.
I'll look for answers in the morning light,
perhaps wander somewhere in the autumn cold.
Soon I'll be back with thoughts not so deep,
to know you again before days are old.

Brian Francis Hudon
October 9, 2016

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

When You're Near

I finally free a silence unspoken,
a breath held like a thousand tomorrows.
Though a last wall remains unbroken,
giving way to endless nights of silent tears.
But tears of passion know no sorrows,
with the embrace of hopeful years.

Shadows and color in perfect lines,
fills the eyes, imagination and our senses.
What I could guess in truth it defines,
beauty beyond words, finally within reach.
Softer than colors, it breaks defenses,
a very sensation stealing my speech.

The morning light wakes too soon,
as grateful hearts would welcome the sun.
My heart races be it morning or noon,
stirring at a whisper or a thought or a word.
To dream if my life had not yet begun,
so it is if your name I had not heard.

Happiness seeks me in your places,
and sadness when you are gone too long.
Not finding you among familiar faces,
makes me long more for when you're near.
The music of seeing you, a lovely song,
cures my life of every trace of fear.

Brian Francis Hudon
October 6, 2016

Monday, October 3, 2016

Beyond the Barrens

It's early where the sun hides away,
to look for stars, yet they're not to be seen.
Much more than clouds darken this day,
but some returning feeling that has no name.
Some place apart and a place in between,
neither, both, where I am the same.

Night and dreams are but strangers,
sleep is no rest, but a wasteland for worries.
Is there words for the unnamed dangers,
in places not so anxious, hope more beautiful.
The sound of a voice is sweet and carries,
and strengthens the human crucible.

Who has this become in your heart,
a stranger like myself, much as I used to be.
He thinks of you more should you part,
yet every day the same, thinking of the word.
It is like a name but more, as a part of me,
so like the sweetest words I've heard.

A picture resides within, resilient,
the memory as clear as day in perfect detail.
I experience life so near and so brilliant,
and discover myself in the days and the years.
Next to you the colors of the season pale,
taking away a life's doubts and fears.

I can dream now of ordinary things,
and not be left to dream them alone by day.
To know of the sweetness caring brings,
it should be no mystery but sweetest wonder.
So take me now, bring me along the way,
again beneath the stars thereunder.

Brian Francis Hudon
October 3, 2016

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Autumn Dreams

Why so quiet and distant now?
and where might I search for you again?
Why so much concern on your brow,
I am still me and happy when you're near.
I can remember when I met you then,
filled with much doubt and fear.

So I'm trusting we'll not change,
that a friendship remains - for you and I.
Nothing now could seem so strange,
or is the distance between my imagination?
What lifts our heart which flies so high,
and moves our very foundation?

Like an autumn day in dreams,
so I would rest in your arms for a season.
And more than mere sleep it seems,
like a daydream comforting with illusions.
Like an irrational fear without reason,
love provides all our conclusions.

Happy under the sun and gold,
so am I with you, anytime or anywhere.
As love drives away that winter cold,
I'll not grow old, but richer in memories.
So too, you will only grow more fair,
as deep and beautiful as the seas.

Brian Francis Hudon
September 27, 2016

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Let My Sorrows Be No More

I am tired and tired of sadness,
and soon I'll put my night behind me.
I long for my joy and my gladness,
and a friend, the warmth of a summer day.
I long for dreams of what might be,
and wonder is there a better way.

Somehow I've always known you,
in the fear and darkness of my nights.
In summer days, I've knew you too,
in lonely hours under the lazy midday sun.
You were my hope in starry nights,
long before my days had begun.

So yours is my first word found,
when my own good words do fail me.
Though I should hold my ground,
know yours are the hands I should hold.
Though every trouble may leave me, 
days with you will not grow old.

Hope is a happiness for the day,
that tomorrow is greater than the last.
You smile, take every worry away,
the way you've done so many times before.
Help me leave yesterday in the past,
and let my sorrows be no more.

Brian Francis Hudon
September 25, 2016

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

The Dream

One night past I had a dream,
that I held my dreams in my hand.
More real than dreams do seem,
I waited and so unexpected you came.
Though nothing I felt was planned,
I've loved you just the same.

So there I waited in that place,
where you quietly waited here too.
And I felt a hand and saw a face,
as familiar as time and like your own.
Without a look I knew it was you,
and so I knew I was not alone.

Never had trust so known me,
and doubt not been my companion.
Yet you endured me patiently,
watching intently in the manner I do.
It's greater than I could imagine,
that I could dream this of you.

Patience is my greater reality,
for my hopes tempered with time.
And if there is a love within me
that it somehow find its way to you.
Though only words and rhyme,
I hope their meaning will do.

Brian Francis Hudon
September 21, 2016

Monday, August 29, 2016

La Nom De La Rose

Too long the darkness I'd known,
wondering at the words of a single night.
And not like a dream, I was left alone,
to carelessly think upon what I had heard.
Though dreams dared not take flight,
they lingered, whispering a word.

Then as a light from a distant star,
I took a step towards the waiting border.
Though I would wander, wide and far
my heart remained upon its single course.
Within its throes did grace find order,
the likeness of beauty at its source.

Kindness and love for any creature,
given in character, a wisdom of the heart.
Delicacy and strength in every feature,
is her look that sparkles like morning dew.
Though I am torn by a moment apart,
I am met by joy in each day anew.

Her embrace is a fare scent and rare.
as warm and tender as an evening's dream.
For a breath of life and touch of hair,
the poet's ransom is offered in every word.
For love as beloved as this might seem,
I pray that wonder is as I've heard.

Brian Francis Hudon
August 30, 2016

Sunday, August 21, 2016

A Thousand Dreams and Miles

Now, what words shall I say,
of these pictures in a thousand dreams.
And so I'll think of you another day,
only tomorrow, though beauty never ends.
An array of light in endless streams,
like the stars, this love it mends. 

To close my eyes at your side,
I could sleep again - as I slept long ago.
This fragile road, this care free ride,
in the moments I take nothing for granted.
My heart is young with you I know,
I am more and more enchanted.

Your gentle heart's revealed,
though you say but a word in kindness.
With but a glance my heart is sealed,
given in friendship, my loyalty for the ages.
In importance there is our likeness,
greater than words on the pages.

Amazing thoughts of beauty,
as you surprise and inspire, I am stolen.
Moved by my love's honor and duty,
I would continue the road a thousand miles.
In so many times when I have fallen,
you would lift me in your smiles.

Here, the touch of your hand,
it takes away every fear without a name.
And though nothing I have planned,
I have merely strayed where the heart leads.
Yet without you I am never the same,
I know now what my heart needs.

If you might turn away fear,
closing your eyes for a moment of trust,
I promise the day will not shed a tear,
and some do live in the moment, unending.
In yesterday, are only ashes and dust,
but today, our heart is mending. 

Brian Francis Hudon
August 22, 2016

Thursday, August 18, 2016

The Best of Me

How to say, you're the best of me,
my words can only fail, though I might try.
You're the friend I should hope to be,
yet yours I'll be through all my earthly days.
At the beginning, at the end, and why?
You still charm me with your ways.

My heart should sing - be you near,
where this happiness should embrace me.
I have crossed the bridge of every fear,
where my heart waited uncertain and alone.
Never content, should life leave me be,
your kindness took me for its own.

Hold fast - if loves holds you high,
you're both brave and beautiful and more.
Do not fear where any danger may lie,
you are strong, be the light in the darkness.
And so I hold you near, as ever before,
my friend in hope and my gladness. 

Our day is awesome and a mystery,
we don't know what tomorrow will bring.
More places to go - more places to see,
and you my dear friend, you keep me steady.
Do not worry about every little thing,
all will be right if our time is ready.

Brian Francis Hudon
August 18, 2016

Sunday, July 17, 2016

The Roses

My love is twin roses of the field,
like sunlit fair upon the milky white hills.
So like a field aglow she will not yield,
before such beauty of eyes and summer days.
And like sunlight upon our winter sills,
her smile lights and mends my ways.

Some eve upon her beating heart,
I should heed the moment, rest to dream.
A sweet embrace before her roses part,
and dream beneath those many stars of night.
A word and heart, more than they seem,
they are but strangers unto the light.

Something of a heart is breaking,
when this sleep no longer brings me rest.
Your touch so like morning's waking,
I'd find myself renewed as though I had slept.
I am taken by she who knows me best,
in my eyes that were tired and wept.

Dear friend, I look always to you,
and find company within a night's refrain.
Here, though quiet in the things I do,
my love resides within and passions run free.
In the scent of a memory you'll remain,
as beautiful as the roses and sweetly.

Brian Francis Hudon
July 17, 2016

Saturday, July 2, 2016

My Dearest Friend

What would I do without you, to hear me,
all these times, it was you, so quiet and sincere.
My days have not been the same or ever so free,
not as since that fateful meeting not so long ago.
You would open my heart, my friend so dear,
who I could not depart, for a moment or so.

Where would I go or could I know, peace,
the way you put me at ease, forever my friend.
The sweetness of my days shall not not decrease,
not if my heart remains true, for me and for you.
My light and gentle guide, smiling to the end,
without all you have done, what could I do?

Brian Francis Hudon
July 2, 2016

Friday, July 1, 2016


Each desire robs this life of breath,
anxious, confused, in the mind uncertain.
Staring at the moment through death,
the hour soon passes, amused and terrified.
I would race through my imagination,
though I feel as though I've died.

Within the sea of competing voices,
my voice is lost and cannot hear my soul.
Of lights and colors and empty noises,
my thoughts are enemies, words confusing.
Take me in pieces or leave me whole,
my pain is tired and slow diffusing.

Look at me, different and the same,
I know some your pain, different as I am.
We are prisoners of an unspoken name,
the monster that is slowly waking up inside.
Judging my soul, the imaginative scam,
anxiety, hell and judgement deride.

Permit our arms soon our embrace,
so brief, so beautiful, yet the proper cure.
Speak my name and consider this face,
revealing all that I become and imperfectly.
I see your intentions simple and pure,
and desire your company fervently.

Brian Francis Hudon
July 1, 2016

I Dream

A home that is a home, I dream,
of that friend who best knows my heart.
To be greeted by her familiar gleam,
is to be welcomed by the eyes of a friend.
All these I so desire, before I depart,
before my life's road finds an end.

Yet still my days know longing,
that deeper hunger for love and peace.
And should in you I find belonging,
I will know joy in my true heart's victory.
Our sun's warm light does not cease,
not in love's most subtle mystery.

We'll bring all the colors of day,
in joy and laughter, in quiet reflection.
Yet we'll find our own beautiful way,
an escape from fear and voices of sadness.
Sweet nostalgia in quiet recollection,
is welcomed in hearts of gladness.

Do not fear a hand, or embrace,
days are brief, and these moments too.
So is my home where I see your face,
I'll know you friend, forever and always.
Bold and brave are becoming to you,
and like beauty, follow your days.

Brian Francis Hudon
July 1, 2016

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Goodnight, Goodnight

Goodnight, though no one hears,
while I cannot know if you are listening.
So I might say it again to my own ears,
again, for my own heart which hears me.
Though I might not be as interesting,
my heart is won and reveals me.

Patience, say some here and there,
and like some fool, I listen, impatiently.
It's the best I can do before one so fair,
hoping against hope and biding my time.
And so I wander about, now aimlessly,
a victim of some nameless crime.

Perhaps there's more I cannot see,
and more reasons for this slight of hand.
You are you and all you I might yet be,
a thousand versions more and better still.
Days are gone, sleeping upon the land,
and resting upon my tired will.

Dear friend, if I should be so bold,
I'm a friend and always so, so you know.
Do not fear a friendship growing cold,
as things were once, so they will always be.
Yet I do not speak it, still you'll know,
goodnight you, to you, from me.

Brian Francis Hudon
June 29, 2016

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

In Seasons New

Be you a friend or be you a lover,
I am yours, though broken I might be.
And in every good thing I discover,
beauty that I might share, if you be there.
You're my best friend, a friend to me,
if my days be either dark or fair.

My night is young in seasons new,
although the stars and clouds be at war.
If there be peace in me and I in you,
my heart is good and my dreams find rest.
These stars should guide me as before,
and a friend who knows me best.

While I find no words in our eyes,
I cannot look away, though we are lost.
I find my way in a smile and in sighs,
in a moment to breath, be I silent to long.
If patience is mine, I'll accept the cost,
without fears I might be wrong.

Come now friend and be at peace,
worry not about tomorrow any longer.
Find your joy where joy takes lease,
find love and beauty in a friend's embrace.
Each new victory makes you stronger,
while I find joy in a familiar face.

Brian Francis Hudon
May 25, 2016

Sunday, May 1, 2016

For Eyes Uncertain

A depth of emotion reveals me,
this thing that I am, in these feelings.
I see this reflection, so peacefully,
in another, the storm beneath the sea.
In this terrifying maze of dealings,
why can't my heart leave me be.

Too many, too close, very soon,
and I would run, could I find my way.
My dreams are broken and strewn,
their threat not real, as real as my fear.
Longing for night to become day,
to run from this broken mirror.

In every startled hope a breath,
hour by hour is a joy that greets me.
As distant as the moon, new death,
old dreams fade from my imagination.
Our love as true as ever it might be,
if we embraced its true creation.

Sweet flesh is truth, a plain face,
natural and beautiful, easily revealed.
Hands that help, my familiar place,
for eyes uncertain as to where to turn.
My silence is only happy, concealed,
in the heart where passions burn.

A word is not stone, held tightly,
I would say everything, if I was brave.
A heart's not cold, nor beats lightly,
if what I would hold dear be held dear.
If I say nothing only pride I'd save,
losing loving friendship for fear.

Brian Francis Hudon
May 1, 2016

Thursday, April 28, 2016

All the Wonders

Be I fun or the serious one,
I am what I am in all seriousness.
And I finish what I have begun,
patient with both emotion and time.
For truly this is serious business,
exposing my heart in rhyme.

Might I seem dull and grey,
I do not know, but I shall see you.
For all the brilliance of the day,
seeks it brilliant colors through you.
And I, I will understand this too,
with all the wonders you do.

What is mine is always yours,
little though it be, my treasures.
How your heart opens doors,
and brings smiles, their own reward.
So it is in your joys and pleasures,
I seek solace going forward.

In the warmth of your hand,
or the blue of your eye, a haven.
A morning sun greets the land,
and finds no disappointment in you.
Says the midday light so brazen,
stay the course, remain true.

Although our winter's long,
we're resilient and stronger still.
Please say that I'm not wrong,
and please say tender bonds remain.
For friendship is the greater will,
in hearts so honest and plain.

Brian Francis Hudon
April 28, 2016

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Forever Be

A child and a child forever be,
you are mine and I am yours forever.
Sweet heart, my heart, the better part of me,
such the tale, such a life, innocent and divine.
I would be yours and leave you never,
for many a day as these so fine.

A friend and a friend sweetly,
tell me your tale, tell me of your days.
I should ask you - though I might discreetly,
lest my heart stray - a fear that I'm forgotten.
Yet this is mine and these are my ways,
for a friendship dearly gotten.

Brian Francis Hudon
April 26, 2016

Sunday, April 24, 2016


Your look as clear as this night,
with eyes the same and blue as the day.
So beautiful is a moment and right,
thinking your name, I'm free and I'm me.
You are so beautiful in so many ways,
I'm thinking it might always be.

What you're thinking I can't tell,
some wild thought in color or a dream.
It's the sunfall of the day, so I'm well
though cold or nervous, laughter follows.
Smile another smile while we scheme,
beside the shadows in the hollows.

Now we part and I'm more quiet
always the sadness that knows no name.
I search the night for morning light,
and hope that makes a day more welcome.
A morning good and always the same,
it is my little world and kingdom.

Now knowing you the way I do,
I find the hours here are sweeter now.
Soon goodnight tonight, it's true,
sleep and dreams, such a pleasant prospect.
May all our experience show us now,
that life and love that we expect.

Brian Francis Hudon
April 24, 2016

Saturday, April 23, 2016


Days are days but our memories dear,
and the wonder of summer in the blossom.
So in every good day you remain as clear,
in little moments, to share some word or two.
No distance remains, the feeling awesome,
to be home again when I'm with you.

In a starlit night where dreams begin,
the season never ends and never grows old.
So too we dreamers find the hopes within,
young as the rising sun and as old as the night.
Love finds no winter nor friendship cold,
in that simple promise burning bright.

Nights and mornings, hand and letter,
all the beauty of the world remains unseen.
Apprehension fades, my world is better,
I search your name, beautiful above all the rest.
Of all that will be and of all that has been,
I know these days have been the best.

Every fear becomes like some stranger,
while every sort of comfort takes my hand.
The feeling shakes me like some danger,
so familiar and yet more familiar is your touch.
Greet me again and take me where I stand,
before your leave becomes too much.

Brian Francis Hudon
March 19, 2015 


Witness how the heart takes flight,
with a look, with a word, a radiant face.
For precious moments there is light,
and the day is won and the spirit regained.
A love and friendship share this space,
where silent hopes are contained.

Brilliant morning and shining days,
do grow pale when compared to these.
What say you now of my careful ways,
and the stories within me now left untold?
A smile greets a child so easy to please,
an expression of joy and never old.

A deep breath and now I'm certain,
and more certain than all my yesterdays.
Patience is my trial, hence my burden,
I should prevail, if my intentions are true.
Tomorrow's a long road in many ways,
be there a road for me and for you.

Winter's rose now blooms so sweet,
seasons of life find me alive once more.
Kindness is sweeter the days we meet,
near or far, time and distances do not part.
Life is now more complete than before,
lifted by wings that lighten a heart.

Brian Francis Hudon
April 23, 2016

Wednesday, April 20, 2016


The chill of space, no stars above,
familiar and unfamiliar, I've been here.
So there's nothing new about love,
nothing new about you, nothing about me.
I've traveled the life of hope and fear,
and wandered into an endless sea.

The warmth of love is within you,
in such hands that would hold and heal.
Your mere turn and look would do,
and console me in these moments of doubt.
Don't leave restless, or alone to feel,
for the word we can't live without.

Brian Francis Hudon
April 20, 2016

By the Hour

Too many words are left unspoken,
I'm silent, unseen, a ghost between days.
Have I said anything lately? A token?
Something to bide my time, for a dream.
Now I've been lost in too many ways,
taking one for myself and the team.

The world has awoken, at what cost,
a final day of winter brings a warmer sun.
A strange sad man greets me, so lost,
I remember him though. Nothing to say.
And I wonder now at what has begun,
passing by the hour and by the day.

Brian Francis Hudon
April 20, 2016

Thursday, February 25, 2016

The Less Timid Heart

Fly upon the winds of the stars, set your wings,
to your other dreams and other things, my explorer!
A million and more, nebulous hearts, celestial beings,
you are not alone, dreamer, or at home, the wanderer.
A thousand worlds, to none we have traveled before,
flights of fancy, flights of joy, the happy conqueror!

A blackest jewel, beneath eternity's endless sky,
lovers and fools walk here speaking of trifling things.
The smallness of hands meet without the question why,
beyond this, only the sorrowful parting might they fear.
In a silent room, the less timid heart grows and sings,
I am not alone, I am so loved and so it is I am here.

Fears and tribulations all, a thousand suns shine,
'hear me, hear me,' cries a stranger, 'I am but alone'!
Love fears no darkness, I am yours and this joy is mine,
come you moon, goodnight and dream among the rest!
Every valley, along the waters where light has shown,
I reside in sweetness for one who knows me best.

Here in the ash and wood, a lesser road known,
winds and returns, in the shadows of the distant hill.
We are not ourselves, not each other and never alone,
not in the light of a room, looking out upon this night.
Our hopes and hands rest weary upon a lonely sill,
as hope burns still, like the flickering candle light.

Brian Francis Hudon
November 12, 2014

The Window

Night time calls, the dark color in the window,
heartbreak beckons, teases emotions, slows time.
The outcasts, alone and wandering, move slow,
the four empty walls close in, their prisons within.
So their energy is spent, disappearing into rhyme,
hiding in the forest of words, there, waning thin.

The strings of the instrument move easily, tense,
yet the emotion flows freely, in conflict and verse.
The breath of music, thoughts in motion, sense,
the palette of the mind and heart in eternal warfare.
The wind moves the leaves, both fluid and terse,
to find rapture in chaos, in the soul's love affair.

Some breath moves the tree, seasons changing,
searching by moonlit passions, its stark silhouette.
A voice cries out, its simple phrase left hanging,
an unresolved love, an indictment, a hidden name.
Bear with these the burden, an unnamed threat,
where our confidence is shaken and the same.

Patience, silent patience is ours for the making,
to hold a look, in distances between, in moments.
Hold them now before our hearts are breaking,
hold every light in the darkness, before we awaken.
Joy so dear bearing resemblance to the torments,
in brief separations, not for a moment forsaken.

Brian Francis Hudon
November 9, 2014

Weary Traveler's Might

How long since these outward turning tides,
since these eyes held your hands in the night.
Their feeling subsists and then soon subsides,
and still their wilderness remains, unbroken.
Now we await for the weary traveler's might,
to reside for a lifetime and some small token.

You are the word and you become the pages,
you remain the ambition and the silent drive.
You become the song for their awaiting ages,
like so many my muse come and gone before.
They are written, forgotten, yet they survive,
until their world remembers them no more.

Like some ghost, who does not soon forget,
the poet and plunderers forge her immortal
Their wagers are placed but for him, not yet,
she transcends hours, and pauses for no man.
He would subsist beyond their secret portal,
for a dream and hopes of some unmade plan.

Still does their rain come and go, undaunted,
as fearless as a mountain, scored from danger.
Soon their invention might melt, so vaunted,
before her heart so like the storm and as wild.
He would meet her again and like a stranger,
with all that gallant innocent youth of a child.

    Brian Francis Hudon
    January 10, 2013


War, deep on the score of violence,
speaking a song, making waste of the night.
A sordid frightening kind of menace,
the hypocrites demand a latest solution.
More to the left, an attack upon the right,
fools of God and man, the institution.

A lightning raid, sights in the hoard,
wreaking havoc, a light and revolutionary.
Sleep tonight, for dreams in the ford,
save the child from every radical tyrant.
Bereft of democracy, a negation, sanitary,
the human heart is once more defiant.

Clear minds vanish, going terminal,
patriots and paradigms, forgetting the hero.
He lends a way, furthers the optimal,
a flaming baptism, logic unto certainty.
The reign of relativism amounts to zero,
winter's hell paving streets of insanity.

A longing without belonging awaits,
the eternal void, nil and fowl in the streets.
He has awaited the twin turn of fates,
every lie like truth, every truth like lies.
His countless deaths and deathless defeats,
his minions do not tire beneath the skies.

What force has a man against these,
fortitude and resolve, seeming ever the fool?
Like the stars, born, as upon the seas,
a multitude of follies, as riots of futility.
Victory is defeat, a conqueror of the duel,
without relish, but borne with fidelity.

Brian Francis Hudon
January 1, 2013


Take the man, take him in time,
to bear the traversal of that distance.
Speak to him mysterious rhyme,
to reveal him in every horror of war.
Temper him with the resistance,
as countless men who went before.

The hour is now, so we are ready,
a time for patient preparation is past.
Bring him about, silent and steady,
we are eager for the conflict at hand.
That time has come for us at last,
to unhinge perdition across the land.

So now they hunger for the fight,
hunger for changes and for a destiny.
They hunger with wings of flight,
for a grey day, a great day and more.
They labor through lies of history,
to conquer victorious as ever before.

War, fire, by the long dark lines,
into the abyss a numberless throng.
A legion of lights and divine signs,
it is the heavenly union of the hosts.
Like a spirit wind, wide and long,
the enemy companies fade as ghosts.

Raise banners today, torches high,
the vanquished are cinders and soot.
Truth reigns through our cyan sky,
his starry blade un-dulled, unbroken.
The enemy is weak and ever afoot,
while truth is eternal if ever spoken.

Brian Francis Hudon
November 15, 2012

Friday, February 19, 2016


I cannot wake you from this darkness,
or lift the weight from your mortality.
It is neither mine to grant or dispense,
albeit I am the same thread and weave.
Perennially you have traversed my sea,
across the expanse where men deceive.

You have crossed the divide too soon,
yet I may touch you - you will not feel.
You are beyond our winter be it noon,
cold February in corruption unabated.
For a moment, you are warm and real,
in your soft hand is every truth related.

The fire of your heart shall not retire,
not in death, not in distance or despair. 
Beauty eternal shall not fail to inspire,
nor the black tresses your countenance.
The miles are difficult, the reward fair,
for truth and hope, a daily sustenance.

There is no song in death, or pleasure,
giving meaning, as time stands eternal.
 Their buried life, buries their treasure,
cold beneath this earth, below the sun.
Love bears darker burdens, nocturnal,
recalling victory before a battle is won.

Brian Francis Hudon
February 19, 2013
(revised February 19, 2016)

The Gravel Road

Midnight beckons, a dream and a storm,
by steps of darkness on an unseen horizon. 
A red flash of danger, beyond the norm,
we are men, we are ghosts, and soon alive.
The warning passes and the threat is gone,
what tale have we to tell, or truth contrive?

The song is broken, the strings as silent,
for the moment, for a breath, held lightly.
Like a reed, like smoke, is our moment,
moving, shifting, fading, into the shadows.
Fragile as a cloud, though rising mightily,
the thought returns, and the melody flows.

The sun is near, the warmth is a new day,
and my company is as a dream I once knew.
I am whole, and I am lost to find my way,
with faith as my guide, to the familiar voice.
I knew the difference and I knew you too,
the gravel road revealing every new choice.

My symphony is in the trees, the seasons,
when countless forgotten mornings pass by.
You are nearer, hands holding the reasons,
they are yours and they are mine so recently.
Need I ever wonder, here, just you and I,
as tender years move along, ever discretely.

Brian Francis Hudon
May 10, 2012

Do Wake Me From A Dream

Do wake me from a dream, when it is time,
that this may be as this may seem, and more.
Take us to sleep, for sweetness, and rhyme,
for another day, another age, hour by hour.
It is light and the morning like times before,
just and right to behold their simple power.

It is a grey day, an eagle upon the starry sky,
light upon us now, and we are young anew.
A summer eve, which never ends, and why,
in the green of June and July, we bear light.
Clear as water, your eyes and morning dew,
your breath as a song and birds before night.

Run with me now in the fields and laughter,
the time is ours and as yet would never end.
Wait for me here, a hundred years and after,
star of my day, light of my sky, so beautiful.
No more hope could I have, it is this I send,
memories of yesterday and a heart once full.

You are unmoved in the wind, like a flower,
like a leaf, before the storm, strong and still. 
And for a smile you would defy their power,
hurrying me home through the winter cold.
It is hope that sustains me, an act of the will,
for you and yesterday, every day til I am old.

Brian Francis Hudon
January 9, 2012

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Solemn as Night

Blue and green makes this solemn as night,
from sight unseen into the mountain's pale.
As on an eagles ride unto the stars of flight,
we are travelers two, unto a still new moon.
Shadows moving gently among stones frail,
are settling and steady their dreaming soon.

As mythic and prayerful their pact is made,
an ageless agreement in the summer dusks.
An act of hope before a new stage is played,
in an epic and psalm within a steel creation.
Before chaos and triumph the empty husks,
the dust of time meets its unearthly station.

Shall we retire unto the roads and the field,
in reflecting on the words of younger years.
In these new inventions for a mortal shield,
is but the silence for our breathing in peace.
Time needs to be taken for hopes and tears,
aside deep amber tides which seldom cease.

In bartering for moments of this attention,
I am who I am, for those spaces in between.
Fears of silence do not tempt our direction,
but the nearness of tidings unknown to me.
As forever unmoved stones remain unseen,
but for shadows to all we have been and be.

Brian Francis Hudon
January 12, 2009

As the Eagles Fly

What joy - before death tolls,
to know that today is the only day.
Tomorrow is the wager of souls,
silently waiting, making no promise.
After many doubts, I find my way,
the way of time's choosing this.

An island on the distant water,
a haven of darkness, a night's stage.
Rock and life, history's daughter,
upon a bitter nebula, a voyager's sky.
Ancient warrior and cunning sage,
a thousand suns as the eagles fly.

A bell still rings true and bold,
proclaims the hour, stating its case.
History marches on, we grow old,
staying young at heart, bold as youth.
Easily we'll gaze upon time's face,
and pause with wonder at truth.

The steady rocking of the sea,
and we wander into bright dreams.
What has been, what shall ever be,
these alone are what we're promised.
Where there is you, so there is me,
together still in morning's mist.

Brian Francis Hudon
November 16, 2015 

An Endless Sea

I have become this whirlwind, a storm unleashed,
and I am silence and I am love and I am confusion.
The peace in the stars confounds me, releases me,
finding me, in the pages written are an endless sea. 
Alone, always alone in fear and reality, a delusion,
losing the things most near, most dear, decreased.

These time pieces, the days and weeks of the year,
these are darker now, in hours slower and dreary.
What hope that guides a night's delightful dreams,
starry eyed wonder, in celestial rivers and streams.
We are tired and restless and of this world, weary,
so trusting in its splendor and conquering our fear.

Brian Francis Hudon
November 9, 2014

The Stars

A thousand nights of night to wonder and observe,
for these and more the stars delight to tell their story.
A thousand years, wonders and dreams they serve,
mighty works and mightily shining, fires of the deep.
A streak across the heavens, for a moment's glory,
they crease the darkness, deep in our minds of sleep.

In bright eyes, a new vision, clear as winter night,
beneath cloudless scenes we brace for winter's cold.
Be they travelers, wanderers or strangers in flight,
they welcome us and bridge timeless years between.
Ancient and heralded, born for vestments of gold,
though we sleep beneath them, silently and unseen.

Brian Francis Hudon
October 24, 2014

The Joyous Desert

Such sweet separation, distant, gentle and near,
brief occupation, in trust and comfort, endless turns.
Resistant, our desires are patient, friendship dear,
a look between these companions closes many miles. 
A cautious exchange, fear set aside, hope returns,
embracing daring and familiar foolhardy trials.

My two hearts, the brave and the self conscious,
ever at war and unresolved, who would I be this day?
Who I am to others, this timid paradox, cautious;
someone reach across the divide, find the way across.
If only I might recover myself and not be this way,
to fear not satisfaction and the treachery of loss.

These are the joyous deserts of my imagination,
unreconciled with the world, the same with myself.
Every curiosity, in every thought and fascination,
life brings wonder, color and sound, our landscape.
All the grey days of boredom lay upon the shelf,
abused, the final home of obscurity and escape.

Walk with me a while, let fortune take a hand,
set no courses, take the stars as they are, unresolved.
Let no silence dissuade you, I stand where I stand,
by you, trusting, hoping, where the crossroads meet.
An apprehension met and is in certainty dissolved,
herein, a heart is mine to give, stealth and fleet.

Brian Francis Hudon
October 18, 2014