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