there are days
that begin
with clear skies
and lucid minds.
with a chance
at a new life.
how good is it.
the constant
inconsistent chance.
to begin
© Hudson Biko
Posts
hope
the hope was sterile
in backdrops
of winding clocks
and days
that seemed to stay
for far shorter
than the calendar
made it seem
that they would.
and there were times.
when the skies
would cry.
and the earth
would shed.
and the leaves
just bled.
and the dying. was everywhere.
but. here we are. now.
with the cracks.
in the ice.
and drizzles.
on the window sills.
all still.
filled. with thrills.
of new beginnings © Hudson Biko
in backdrops
of winding clocks
and days
that seemed to stay
for far shorter
than the calendar
made it seem
that they would.
and there were times.
when the skies
would cry.
and the earth
would shed.
and the leaves
just bled.
and the dying. was everywhere.
but. here we are. now.
with the cracks.
in the ice.
and drizzles.
on the window sills.
all still.
filled. with thrills.
of new beginnings © Hudson Biko
acquiescence
puddles of acquiescence
are warm on days
when the air is bleak
the fingers are meek
and the soul is shivering.
when the veins
pop from skin
in luminescent green
and the lack of the serene
is everywhere.
when this life
is lived
for sole purpose
of being lived.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Adrian Swancar
over(think)
the warmth
in the voice.
the ease
in the words.
the rare.
the things
too easy
to read too much into.
© Hudson Biko
Photo by Tanja Heffner
rebirth
there are times
when i do not fear
the fall.
when i look at the streams
run down earth.
and think
of all the ways
their fall
helps the flowers
rise.
© Hudson Biko
hudson biko 