Monday, November 14, 2011


 The brown soulful eyes
             of much-loved Bear
             rows the little boat
                                                 over water Moon and stars

 In night-time mysteries
                softly breathed
    down long underground mazes
                of caves and canyons
                                     to the secret meeting place
                                                 of  World’s Four Great Winds.

                                     Event-horizons of Black Holes.
                                     Mighty Light-destroyers.

                                     Paddle safely me back home again.
 Row the campfires over.


As I lay me down to sleep
I pray for darkness long and deep
for miles and miles of unused feet
from which they never wake.
Gone all sorrows fears griefs
leaving only resting feet.
They have carried a heavy load.
They have walked a long hard road.
They have gone thru great duress
to allow me to progress
thru a life of extreme stress.
They have earned a decent rest.
Life is thinking on your feet
so your mind’s only as true
as whatever your feet can do.
Pray you’re born with feet not flat.
All of that.


At 61 Ken Hudson has recently returned to writing poetry after a 30-year hiatus and deep forays into other fields. In his younger days, Ken's poems were published in a wide range of journals and anthologies. Now he is concentrating on poetry until, as he puts it, 'the last breath I take'.

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