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


it’s just past midday.

the adieu

in a milieu

of hues

linger in the orange.

the seas

of leaves

sit still

on the edges

of the branches.

there is a luminescence.

in the absence.

of the stress

to stay.

and it is so beautiful.

© Hudson Biko – Poem and Photograph


Flashes of yellow

and streaks of

orange scatter

across a sky

that stays

still at

five to

six am


light infuse

its darkness

with perceptions

of new beginnings as

if endings ever existed

in the first place

( calling it sunrise )




The sounds

of makeshift drums


in a background

made of mellow


and mazes

of paths pervaded

by everything somehow simultaneously

desired and already had.

( lost in spaces of mellow )

© Hudson Biko

Photograph: Nathan Anderson








the constellations disappear

behind backdrops

of raindrops

and tranquility

As raindrops

of light drop


into an infinity

of darkness

In patches

that patch




As drops of tranquility

pour amongst patches

of darkness

in patches

of our own infinity


as constellations appear.


© Hudson Biko