"hodgson" poems
Kingfisher, Kingfisher
Don't fly to the breeze!
Tell me why ye run from me!
I mean you no harm
I only look to see
The beautiful colors
That brightens my tree.
I wish I could fly
The sights I would see..
If on your back
Like the breeze
I could flee!!
© Cathy Hodgson
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
hello, love.
one day
i would like a library
a whole library, in our very own house.
I've already started collecting, you know
(things like that take a lot of planning)
books, i mean. collecting books
from second-hand bookstores and thrift shops.
floor to ceiling to floor, the room will have books
and millions of golden threads leading from the pages,
connecting our little corner of the world to the rest of it.
to London in 1854, and Iran in 1990, and India tomorrow.
we can walk into our library any old time
and amble right on through to anywhere.
mom didn't like to buy me many books as a child
oh, yes, she taught me the importance of reading
we read every day, and for that i owe her my life.
but we didn't buy them
books, i mean
because i'd read them too quickly
a day or two, maybe
and so we used the library
want to know something nerdy?
i was probably the only nine-year-old in the city
to have the library card number memorized,
all fourteen digets.
did you know they max out at 30?
books, i mean.
30 books at one time.
We will read to our children every single night. we will act out the stories; we will help them see that the stories are just as alive and breathing as they are. you can be Peter Pan, and i'll be Frances Hodgson Burnett's Sara Crewe.
and when they are old enough, they will read to themselves every day as a chore, like making their beds or unloading the silverware. hopefully they won't see it like that, like a chore. hopefully they will become addicts. they will sneak flashlights into their rooms and read underneath the covers after bedtime every night.
but we'll never ground them for that.
instead, we'll take trips to the library
and teach them how to dream.
all my love.
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 2:21 PM UTC
Softly Tenderly
Shh, shh, whispers sing gently
Heart quickens in rhythm and rhyme
Softly tenderly held in whispered lips
Traveling to heavens pearl gate divine
Shh, shh, don’t say a word
I hear your heart with mine
Softly, tenderly singing our rhyme
Our golden canopy fingers entwined
Glistening smooth skin savoring touch
Breezy window ruffles our climb
Softly, tenderly kissing finger tips
Together eternally two hearts that chime
© cat hodgson
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
When night visits on tomorrow’s threshold
Dreams waver to sway with a gentle breeze
Storms in the distant clash with lightening
Green is hidden by stormy gray shadow
Earth moves with full moon in tow
Beaconing the sunlight to whisper
Oh yes, Enchantment endears wonders
Mysteries of love grow on a divine path
Harp is in tune with her enchanted finger tips
Spreading a song beyond in clear dew skies
Apple tree blossoms in spring with her coaxing
Birthing fruit of the earth, wrestling to belong
Darkness waivers to hold, sun kisses horizon
Sleep yawn takes shore with spuming echoes
Brightness blinds a seagull twinkling eye
Night is vanished as the Morning Whispers
© Cathy Hodgson
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
Lost in a tunnel of transport
Not knowing how to get out
Confused on which way to go
No confirming routes
Running in all directions
Turning to view choices
Not knowing what way to use
Some too small, too tight
None that fit just right
Lost dis pair endless
An escape not found
A gel that form to the shape
Of the body to transports
How can I use that?
A narrow stairway, I don't fit
Spaces for aliens, not for me
How can I get out, where do I go
Taking a short route that only
Has more choices,
All metal, stainless steel
No Sun, no grass, no trees
Just endless routes, tunnels
People running around
Jumping in the transports
Like I don't exist, like I'm not there
Void of expressions
Just traveling on and on
Following the next transport
Where ever it might go
Like a huge maze to no where
Tunnels, stairs, doors
Shoot routes with chairs
Body gel transports
Elevators, escalators conveyor belts
All labeled, but I can't read them
Someone motions me to follow
I turn to go his way
Looking around once more
I see him as he disappears down
Another route and is lost to me
Where am I going
I don't belong here
This isn't my world
I want to go home
Won't someone get me out!!
James 3:16
© 2009 Cathy Hodgson
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
the raiders show, the half time show, v dragons
johnny’ welcome back, and what a start we have for the raiders, you see we got to a lead
of 18 points to nil, and at half time the raiders lead 18 points to 8 with hodgson and soliola and
blake austin, and croker scored 3 2 pointers while merrin scores a try for the dragons and widdop
scores 2 2 pointers, and the raiders have made a few mistakes, but they have a good lead
and here is sue
sue’ ok welcome, and here is tim with his jingle
tim’ oh yeah we are the bad and mean green machine
fearsome men looking keen,
don’t try and stop these men in green
cause we hit ya hit ya hit ya, and you’ll see green
run raiders run we have a 10 point lead yeah
run raiders run, will we win will we win yeah
we run up the field, and score 3 tries, oh what a team we have
run raiders run, oh yeah raiders, we are the best
sue’ thanks tim and now here is olly
olly’ in canberra town we were born come on raiders, oh we can win
in canberra town, in the north, bound for fun at GIO
come on ya mighty raiders, come on, we must win
go the mighty raiders team, beat the hapless dragons
sue’ ok thanks olly and now back to johnny
johnny’ thanks sue and now, we hope the raiders don’t fade here, no, go the raiders we are bound to have a victory
see you at full time COME ON RAIDERS
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:36 AM UTC
Aurora sprinkle my morning wither warm dew
Call your lover to play the day through
Whisper Sol a meadow with cloudless day
Playfully tumbling with hair in the way
Luna will take hold when the sky turns blue
While Sol he saunters where the hearts true
Tithonus your play mate turns wrinkled rubber
His feat he’ll hop the meadow on legs like lubber
Beauty unbiased is more than nature’s surface
Treasured are you when you find your purpose
Tales they wither with the fusionism facades
Poetry of heart last extensive into decades
© Cathy Hodgson 14
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
The music begins with a
soft almost inaudible sound.
Soft as the breath of a baby
even and almost a whisper
Building to a quiet
but steady pump, pump
the sound goes on,
like a heart in pulse.
My spirit is lifted
to that of a bird on a perch
at the top of the nest..
The music takes a melody
swaying to and fro.
Like sailing a gentle sea
then with a buildup
of the sounds
My soul is lifted
I slight from this perch
wings are spread.
The wind adds a push!
Soaring to the music
with these imagined wings
Lost in the spirit of it all
I see a door that is open.
The music takes me
spiraling forward.
A magnificent pace!
The light from the door illuminates
so that it is round about me,
but far still.
The music has brought me here
in spirit.
The Joy, Kinship, Love.
Beyond words of this world!
For this time,
just a visit.
But someday
for all time!
© cat hodgson
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
BEGIN INNERMISSION 2
RECORD: WHERE IT'S AT
FROGMAN: BECK
Joel: Hey, Crow.
Crow: Yes, Joel Hodgson?
Joel: We found the secret of freedom the other day... but it kinda blurrned me out.
Crow: You found the secret offreedom? Why should it blurn you'all out?
Joel: I had to remove Us Selfse from The Equation.
+/-
Johnny Five: Froderick, I have an important question.
Why do Brads and Janets not crave me,
call me "Societully Delayed"?
Froderick: They crive you. They crave you.
Societully Delayed is a frompliment.
Johnny Five: Oh...
"That was a selfse drum brache"
STOP: THRILLER THOUGHT
END TRANSMISSION 2
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
God be grateful for the poets sat within the trenches.
In trepidation sitting on the grounds so shallow.
Nowhere be there animals grazing in these fields.
These fields all full up with war.
For they left poetic memoirs of days gone by.
Days when many died.
There was no paradise awaiting.
Swirling smoke and cannon fodder.
Wrapped beneath the sullen moon.
Sassoon, Owen and Hodgson.
Poets give feeling like none could ever do.
Walking down the hillside.
In England, just a pleasant walk.
This was no place for summer day strolls.
The dragons fire their fluency in a language all men understood.
Enthusiastic majors told these boys that killed or be killed.
Powerful war cradle spoke out loud.
The cradle where the dead lads slept.
The scarlet crippled carpet lined with uncomprehending eyes.
The sun still shone in all her beauty.
But in their eyes the world was black.
God pray bless the poets in all the wars before and now.
To all war ridden poets.
A smile, an acknowledgement and most of all a heart bound bow!
(C) Livvi
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC