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Owen Hannon Poem
Her voice, it touched me with all it enclosed,
giving me feelings and memories I will never lose.
Her voice, a veil behind which lay so much more,
hidden in darkness as the sunrise illuminated the shore.
Her voice, it navigated her ascent as she rose,
as her essence both shattered and grew.
Her voice, it spread, casting a shadow over her woes,
spreading beyond her body and touching those who never knew.
Her life like a falling raindrop, filled with beauty and regret,
Lost in a vast ocean or some sea.
Dolores was more than a drop in the ocean,
but an eternal gift for you and for me.
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2018
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Owen Hannon Poem
Without the water there is no sea,
And without you I could not be me.
I have devoted my life to your love,
A hidden face, reflected in the sky above.
If my love for you I could speak,
My words would move the mountain with the highest peak.
I have held the faith of many in my hands,
Questioned your love on quiet beaches and across distant lands.
And during delicate moments of contemplation and doubt..
But sweetest is the first drop of rain after a drought.
I opened my heart and gazed towards the sunset sky,
As the angels before me smiled and spread their wings to fly.
In this moment I need not the answers to find,
Our body and soul held forever in time.
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2016
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Owen Hannon Poem
A rugged face, generations old
This old heart once fiery and bold
An age ago passion burned within him
A spirit and pride never to be broken
His life devoted to frugal comfort and
His passion, devoted to the things of the soul
Nowdays standing along his old streets
Amongst shadows where old ghosts meet
Not many faces turn, no need, these days,
Just a blind eye for his dying ways
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2009
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Owen Hannon Poem
The mighty sycamore stands strong
Unmoved as life moves blindly by
Inviting branches like welcoming arms
More than a tree this engaging mystery
How many limbs have come together,
The tip out of reach forever?
Leaves whispering a multitude of childlike tales
Bales, sheltered from the summer sun
Invincible yet so vulnerable
And now in its place sits a painted brick wall
A part of me is just a memory
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2009
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Owen Hannon Poem
Last night I dreamt I flew higher than any man has ever flown,
I turned to see my world and her beauty I did behold.
Last night I dreamt I had fallen helplessly upon a million soft feathers,
And never again will I fall harder.
Last night I dreamt I smelt a rose for the first time,
And I will be forever enchanted.
But I have finally awoken.
My heart is open and love flows from me like a stream,
As I watch you lay beside me I realise it was not a dream.
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2017
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Owen Hannon Poem
I felt the first raindrop across my cheek
I turned into you for shelter
Preferring to not to become wet, and exposed
wherein that chill may set
I do not want to face death
When you are gone and the raindrops fall
I try to keep myself busy inside
Sheltered from the chilling wet
Busy inside, where still lives those who died
All sheltered, for a moment,
where no raindrops are cried.
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2020
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Owen Hannon Poem
They are just words, thousands at our disposal;
Thousands more waiting to be discovered.
They bump into each other like two strangers,
a connection made or not much notice given.
Some meetings are etched together in the annals of time,
like the love of two soulmates.
And then others whose meetings are best forgiven.
They are conjured together by poets,
to render you in contemplation.
Where the pen is caressed and spun like a wand,
like cupid creating an unquestionable bond.
They are just words waiting to be sculpted
Like a jagged stone until its edges are gone.
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2020
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Owen Hannon Poem
I wish I could help you understand what it feels like to lose a man, your father.
The clichés now ring clear, a story which began with a ring to my mother.
The fear of loss, you will be no loss, and I never gave a toss about you.
If only I knew that nothing I said was true, and I hope you do, father.
I still have hope that somebody will give me a poke and wake me from this desperate slumber.
I’ll open my eyes and sigh as you do, when I see a message from your number.
But maybe this is not that type of nightmare, and there is some truth to the lie.
It is that which I can’t realise, as I had thought death resided out of sight in the skies.
Its distant echo would be drowned out by your voice, it would have to tug and prise, eventually giving way to your strength, scrambling away from you to another.
But it’s true so please forgive me when I smile and cry like we are together.
All I can say to you now is please don’t go too far, my father.
Copyright © Owen Hannon | Year Posted 2020
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