Chris Hudson Poems

Out of a crowd - that bed of thorns
You rose and shone as a rose adorns and
Scents the wind for just a moments rush
...

Twilight beckons for the dawn as
I rise betrothed to ghosts
So cold am I.

Invisible and forlorn
...

Today is not a day of grief
Today is not a day to weep
Today is a day to howl
Today is a day to bow
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I can see dear Jessie now; trampin' like her dad
Over sodden heath of misty Mordake Moor
Wearing her brothers army boots he'd used in time of war,
And those woollen socks of mine I had never holed or sewn
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I listen to the peace talks
And those men of high degree
They sit on thrones of justice
With their masked hostility
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The pale moon pierces the black wall of space
Casting rays of silvery light across the nocturnal sky
Infinite beams of lignht traverse the galaxies and seek an end.
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