A Silent Sentence

Longing awaits in tender night,

a heart's delight, but finds darkness there.

The shadow soon blankets every sight,

who would listen? What is this sordid influence?

What truth in silence no one should bear,

becomes every day a silent sentence.

In daylight I remember a word,

I remember innocence and a quieter place.

You remained you and I remained me,

before the commands of approval reigned here.

Does happiness still remember your face,

that once could smile without fear.

Cruelty masks itself once more,

smiling with tears, laughing through pain.

Affection dare not wound and adore,

inflicting deeper doubt than a heart can endure.

Truest is friendship, in its gentlest strain,

like a helping hand, sound and sure.

How to free a lion from the cage,

or release this bird from the master's hand?

Their puzzle defines my coming of age,

ever demanding is that rarest virtue of patience.

And patient I shall win and with you stand,

against this and other darker agents.

Brian Francis Hudon

February 4, 2020

Fate

Do tempt us fate, tempt us for the days,

lovely ways, as late night finds us alone once more.

Broken by time, where darkness seldom stays,

as light should reveal us, confirm us, make us stronger.

Time is not the same as younger days before,

years growing short and winters longer.

No greater pain than love left unspoken,

that would haunt us us into our dreams and follow.

Nothing marks resilience as the man unbroken,

a branch bent in the wind, carrying the storm by night.

Beauty forever young is the dawn and fallow,

as pure as moonlit snow and dawn alight.

In words secret and silent our all is given,

a thing quietly proclaimed, a heart's secret desires.

In affection and more our passions are driven,

guiding hands to navigate the unseen work of creation. 

And human hopes fuel the ever burning fires,

to credit us dearly in our humble station.

Nightfall comes searching for the morn,

a signal beacon and light, might we tomorrow rise.

Our life is new and in the morning sun is born,

even we here too, strangers and friends might find love.

To search is to discover and find, a final prize,

to breathe once more and to rise above.

Brian Francis Hudon

January 26, 2020

Summer Dreams

Light is fresh upon a daylight firmament,

a morning in life playing in the drama of my hours.

A fretful play upon the waters, contentment, 

and the diamonds of the early minutes soon fade away.

Hope would have us beholding golden flowers,

and waging our daydream upon the day.

My world has turned its face into the sun,

I am greeted with the fairest radiant countenance.

Have we won? It bears comparison to none,

smiling eyes and laughter become the spoils of peace.

A maiden married of exuberance and reticence,

moments of beauty here do not cease.

Such is longing to only touch warmest life,

to feel its strong embrace and to confirm its reality.

Not cold reality and beneath its bitter knife,

but a soft place to rest my head and dream once more.

Breathing finds its meaning, certainty, finality,

now that each day is richer than before.

I have dreamed for this in time and space,

to meet this end and discover some new beginning.

Soon to reconcile age in this time and place,

an equality of being and knowing awaits with wisdom.

But such foolishness sends thoughts to spinning,

as somewhere lost to fate and freedom.

Brian Francis Hudon

January 20, 2020

Deep

Deep, deep now into the rushing night,

into the wandering scenes that comprise the journey.

Sleep, sleep now, you beautiful eyes of light,

to the place where our hidden dreams are faintly found.

Thoughts of hope made ever more worthy,

are silently breathing without a sound.

Curious desires would reach your hand,

shadow of the past, the memory of an innocent time.

In silent thoughts these race across the land,

like prayers from the deep, a heart in deepest yearning.

Rest, rest in the primal, buried in the rhyme,

lost in these endless circles of learning.

Come now you into wild passions deep,

quickly below the racing stars, beneath resting trees.

Hearts move, relinquish and soon they weep,

like unto many children, like those persons we truly are.

Not for hope, nor for hapless hopeless pleas,

these are the times we wish upon a star.

Light still plays upon the heart's desire,

in starlit expression, joy and beauty, a silent wonder.

There is love and hope in the countless choir,

the pleasure of our fleeting mortality in the silent hours.

Your ambient profundity, joy and plunder,

do ever keep me in your gentle powers.

Brian Francis Hudon

January 17, 2020

Fantasia

What sleeps and sleeps, while the quiet rages,

a beautiful hand lies still, her mind to dream into the night.

Oh tired minds, from deep within these tired cages,

the great drama is forgotten, silently into the dawn's new day.

An ordinary mask in pedestrian and mannered sight,

hides passion's delight in an ordinary way.

Voices of stone, heralds of the ancients await,

the joy of beauty I discover in one, answering the question.

Long prayers of envisionment, coincidence or fate,

recede away into her very mists and storied mysteries of light.

My only desire remains in the beautiful transgression,

to lay bare my muse into fantasies of flight.

Brian Francis Hudon

January 20, 2020

All That is Hidden

How do years submit themselves as new,

become subject to all that came before as beautiful.

Words become life, entreating her as they do,

with a question, revealing all that is hidden in a man.

Such things are sweet, what is ever wonderful,

to love inside life's coincidental plan.

Either hope or tears greet the morning,

discovering an exit from behind these mortal veils.

A face is remembered there, without warning,

that forever shines upon his face like the midday sun.

A name lives on the wind, filling life and sails,

the place where the journey is begun.

To touch her hands is to touch the sky,

together, a world of dreams to reach out and gather.

Such excitement could teach new hearts to fly,

to become as children again, again to all things new.

Hers are colors of beauty,  her delicate matter,

and sparkling like the morning dew.

Silence becomes the music of the night,

a place to listen for some kindred heart in the dark.

To awaken again in her joy and rising bright,

in time's discourse, she never dims or ever grows old.

Above the trees and meadow, his solemn oath,

to love her dearly beyond words untold.

Brian Francis Hudon

December 31, 2019 

Love's Favor

Somehow fear has lost its only friend,

and doubt wanders aimlessly around the days.

Our friendship now should know no end,

how much sweeter days, for our knowing each other.

Days now seek my heart and mend my ways,

like two old lovers lost in one another.

If I might again be seen as a stranger,

what hopes upon the empty canvas should fall?

More mystery, than some empty danger,

close your eyes and dream again with your heart.

Listen, that you might hear fortune's call,

to see what favors love might impart.

The conversation, love's consolation,

begins the new dialogue, binding our obscurity.

A tale of silent words and of quiet elation,

we search for who we are to become, who we are.

In the quiet details of our hidden curiosity,

you are my secret light, my unseen star.

A quiet whisper in the morning mist,

a good day, dear friend, in early morning light.

Touch my hand, that I know I still exist,

to know I am who I am and so I might always be.

I am carried away in so many words I write,

a starry eyed dreamer on the starry sea.

Brian Francis Hudon

July 2, 2019