When apples hang untouched on branches’ bottom,
Or beans lie grounded, neither grown nor dead,
Or bulbs down-nestle into earth of autumn,
Then let them lie! Don’t hurry them ahead.

Or when it’s only six o’clock at night
Do not despair that no one’s at the door:
Your party starts at eight! It’s quite all right!
Just wait. And let the moment ripen more.

All grapes will swell if left upon the vine;
All waves will crash when ocean heaves release;
All rain will fall when pressure fronts align
And words will come when muses hear your peace.

Be patient. Let the budded rose unfurl.
The ancient oysters yield more lustrous pearls.


The Voice I Heard
On Visiting John Keats’ Grave

I felt, as trembling instinct led me near,
My posey-pounded heart alive with sound
Drumming a sanctity into my ear:
‘Remove your shoes!—You Stand on Holy Ground!’

Yes, there were those who passed without a thought
And some who paused, and looked, but did not see,
But all their gazing quickly came to naught,
For in my brain there buzzed an anguished glee.

What noises bless that resting place of yours?
The wind, all wat’ry, haloes you as king,
But unheard tones, you know, tell us far more,
As from stone strings your glowing silence sings.

The others left content with it as such,
But I alone stayed on and thought too much.


Bronwen Hudson is a poet currently studying at the University of Vermont.

Featured Image: “English Forcer Still Life” by Stone Roberts.

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3 Responses

  1. Shyamal R Swamy

    Beautiful poetry.
    Absolutely lovely.

    I fell in love with the line, “All waves will crash when ocean heaves release;” and the couplet of “The Voice I Heard”.

    Both the poems are amazing! Well written.
    Thank you for such beautiful poems.


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