EARTH

A collection of poems that takes the reader on a journey that explores the relationship, at times personal, at others social, mythical and philosophical, between humans and our planet, poems that address our past, our future, our dreams and nightmares, poems of welcome and farewell.

Kenneth White on the work of John Hudson

There's intellectual energy at work and a rich frame of reference. There's a sense of place that has both extent and depth. There's also a sense of time, now socio-historical, now intimately poignant, at moments with wit and humour, at others with a starkness that can startle.

"Its economy is striking, vivid images conjured up in just a few words; the commonplace in counterpoint to the uncommon; well-worn figures of speech shining with new meaning; the profound rubbing up against the everyday and, in the process, teasing out unconsidered layers of meaning."

Liz Thomson, BookBrunch
 
 
 
 
 
Example extract from titular poem Earth:
I, Earth, third rock from Sun,
hot stuff, fatal attraction,
Mister Magnetic,
surf gravity in a dicey embrace,
on a roll, a Salchow, wave-crest,
tumbling, never landing
I, Earth, ride Big Black
at three hundred k.p.s.,
spin on my axis day by giddy day
as my magma sambas,
my continents curl a waltz
and my mountains star-jump
which means you, now,
in a break-dance, rolling every which way.
I, Earth, the real 24/7/365,
say hello,
open my leafy hand,
my cavernous heart.

 

13 SOULS IN SEARCH OF A LIGHT SWITCH

The Venerable Bede's Sparrow


And so I came and went
and in that brief flight
gave birth to legend,
a simple metaphor
that carried no meaning for me
but bore weight, it seems,
for the vulnerable Bede.

It was instinct, I headed for light,
got a fright.
Raucous laughter, stench of ale
and flaming faggots
winged me through the nearest window.
Fluttering to a branch,
I waited till dawn, chilly but cheerful.

I never liked foraging around humans
but was on the lookout,
as cheeky sparrows are,
for a crumb, a warm cornice
and by chance gave generations
a tale to lighten the otherwise Dark Ages.

I didn't last the winter -
froze on a branch slowly at sunset:
not so short as to be a painless life,
not bitter either.
I had my passions
and the wonder of starlit nights.

But it's skin off my beak
that the vulnerable Bede,
kiss his cotton habit,
wins history's and heaven's credit
as I roost and chatter in damned privet,
dodge his venerable sparrowhawk,
here, till kingdom come.

Prize winning poem in the Segora Poetry Competition 2012

SHED

GARDEN OF LOVE

THE PUMPKIN LANTERN

STAR WOOD STONE