Bio of Mark Hudson

Mark Hudson is a published poet, and he became a member of
Poets and Patrons in 2006. It all started when Mark entered their
poetry contest in 2006, and won third place for a poem called
"Starvbing artist." he was asked to read his poem out loud,
and he was too shy to read it, so Caroline read it.
This made him feel part of the group, so he's been a
member ever since. He has fond memories of writing
adventures with Poets and Patrons in the past, 
and evey April at poetry day at Harold Washington
library, Mark loves to sit at the table and represent
Poets and patrons, and he enjoys helping other
poets selling their chapbooks, and his as well.

Tornado Warning

On our way to Door County, I started out our
trip with a prayer to God for a safe trip. The first
foreshadowing seemed to be a building that said,
“Abandoned haunted house.”

My sister did not let my niece and nephew
know there was a tornado warning, because they
get really scared when it rains. Suddenly, rain
began to pour down so fiercely, that I thought
we were going to need an ark.

My niece threw a fit, “I’m scared! I want
to go home!” and she wouldn’t stop screaming.
I saw people who were riding motorcycles who
had to pull over to the side of the road, and I
saw a man on the other side of the road walking
all alone.

We eventually had to pull under a bridge
till the rain stopped. Eventually the sun came out,
and we drove again. I think the kids were even
able to take a nap.

As an adult, I can have fears, because I
am aware of the evils that really do exist. But
I trust God to protect me from whatever comes.

There were two instances on the trip
where I became very proud of my nephew.
When he wanted to walk bare-footed into wavy water
and stand on a rock, I let him. When he went
kayaking by himself, I knew he was getting braver.
My niece has her yellow belt in karate.
I’m actually the chicken!

Mark Hudson

National Poetry Day

National Poetry Day was founded by the British,
but all day long I felt a bit skittish.
Anxiety about things I cannot control,
No time for poetry, no Ole King Cole.
What type of message of poems can I convey?
The truth is I have not much to say.
In England, they think poetry no reason for shame,
I suppose that they’re reading it out by the Thames.
But in America, our verse can get worse,
our politicians cause people to curse!
We frown at our freedom, because it is fleeting,
some upbeat poetry is what we are needing.
In England, the country we once broke off from,
is where they read poetry, and sit on their bum.
There is always tomorrow, to do just that thing,
or is possible, death still does sting?

Mark Hudson
October 6, 2016

Construction Site Quatrains

There were blessing that came from above,
when the bricks fell from the sky with love.
The crew had been stalled, and ran out of dough,
construction site of chaos, progress was slow.

Every vice and virtue shared among the men,
they sat around and drank and drank it all again.
A fire had caused their reparations sour,
and down came the building like a falling tower.

The construction of the workers was put to an end,
it was a relationship the boss could not mend.
The building that was only half built lay in debris,
the workers had no confidence, nor no modesty.

The place was in ruins, the building was in smolders,
all the workers packed up, and moved away to Boulder.
It was the skyscraper that never was to flourish,
but some townsfolk found a way to take it and nourish.

Eventually, a fence surrounded the whole lot,
a playground was built, and people just forgot
the building that had once been there to rot
now a playground, safe for many a tot.

So bring your children to the park outside,
let them slide on the fireman’s slide.
Future firemen play tag on the once failed site,
and kids will do construction one day, do it right.

A playground is a launching pad for dreams,
a towering inferno a harbor full of screams.
Without the pain of failure, we’d have no success,
so please parents and teachers, give the kids recess!

(c) Mark Hudson 2016