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Best Poems Written by Steven Hanlon

Below are the all-time best Steven Hanlon poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Hot Pink Galah

there once was a man from afar
who stood and held forth at the bar
but the tort he invoked was no more than a joke
in defence of the hot pink galah

now the judge who was wearing a wig
when he heard this did dance him a jig
for a poor constitution conveyed no solution
in the case of the flight of the pig

so the case was referred to the crown
who replied with a quizzical frown
how dare this galah make a pig fly so far
i refer to the case of the clown

but the clown at the back of the court
said surely there's more of import
than pigs and galahs who can fly through the bars
when the judge is so easily bought

galah: 1-gregarious australian pink and grey parrot notable for its often comical behaviour

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Walking, As She Would

singing, entrancing
the winding stream cleaves the high valley
grey mist consoles silent sentinels
of a remnant sylvan ribbon
midwinter dawn excites the sleeping wild rose
all is whiteness and the frost is on the slopes
the naked orchard anticipates
the saw and the secateurs
huddled workers around a rusting tractor
breathing mist to the mist
wait patiently for the diesel to thaw
hushed they spy the mountain lorikeets
flashing crimson and ultramarine among the branches
free from their daily shreak and chatter
each one alights alone upon a silver branch
perfect silence abounds in the zen moment
slowly they begin to chime one to another
single notes of living sound ring across the white hollow
no temple bell can imitate or artist's brush convey
such transcendent beauty
the bright-eyed workers stand transfixed
dawn's first breath precedes the rising of the sun
perhaps it is the deepest sigh
of the very queen of heaven
walking as she would
wakening the minds of men from their long slumber
to become aware of her untamed beauty
before it fades forever from the world

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Shadows

I'm not the man I thought I was
I'm but a shadow seen because
A soulless light from somewhere shines
Lit by thieves in looted shrines
And kept alive by evil deeds
Done by men with evil needs
So who am I if not this me
What other self could myself be
If lit by light shone from within
Unsullied by this world I'm in
Perhaps a man born of free will
Who did not have the need to kill
In order to maintain the lie
That a shadow does not die

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Footsteps

how slowly fade the softest sounds
when tiny footsteps touch secret pathways
pattering there in the dreaming wilderness
as small birds perch and brightly flicker
winning haven to haven shy among the leaves
still fresh with rain as they chatter and chirrup
seeming wingless they endear the mystic tide
while young ears gather the notes like crumbs
storing each for a quiet winter free at play
with eyes that sparkle moment to moment
indelible as the dawn upon the starry night
bringing memory from the edge of light
to be alive in our hearts like ripples
or wavelets warmed by the sun at idyll

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The Way of Bright Honour

o seeker read these words and weep
for thy soul so still asleep
as yet unawakened to
this world of love divine and deep

o seeker hear these words and sigh
thy soul and god are ever nigh
divided by the doors of mu
unopened 'til the day we die

unless by dint of effort one
may bring the doors of mu undone
enjoying thus enlightenment
ye lama, sufi, saint or nun

what is the point of seeking this
when life is won by kill or kiss
and pleasure reaps its own reward
why bother with eternal bliss?

yet the mystic path endures
the sacred flame divine allures
the love of truth and wisdom high
even though all love injures

o seeker fill thy heart with joy
all pain dissolves if thou employ
the wisdom of which masters speak
to each and every girl and boy

o seeker fill thy mind with wonder
if ye hear the sound of thunder
understand the lightning strikes
to split the living tree asunder

for if the living tree survive
rent to the heart exposed alive
what might it say to bears about
the bee, the honey and the hive?

so can thy soul be struck by love
from below or from above
when the bolt is from the hand
invisible without the glove

ember in the hearth of home
star of truth high in the dome
hand of divine destiny
pearly shell become the comb

mother earth and father sky
long ago created i
living songline living still
o seeker dost thou wonder why?

o seeker pray and meditate
live and love and contemplate
render naught to worthy not
raise thy children true and straight

o seeker sing a soft refrain
perceptive be and still remain
turn the blade of vagary
with harmony for love to reign

is life through which we fleeting pass
a grain of sand inside the glass
or the eye that sees it fall
compassionate despite the farce?

how great the beauty so sublime
of poesy replete with rhyme
harmonic of the simple truth
transcending bonds of mortal time

i heard thee calling from afar
ahura mazda avatar
keeper of the sacred flame
sent through the doors of time ajar

thy silent voice so sentient
spake words of wisdom and lament
once heard in kingdoms of the rose
still written in the roses scent

simple message yearning for
one open heart from evermore
light on water musical
perfumed garden, divine law

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Thoughtless

thoughtless inaction
seaside sickness spreads in waves
tsunami lays bare

taste wild strawberry
high mountain meadow sunset
thoughtless inaction

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Macabre Bazaar

great leaders sup in style
tete a tete, haute cuisine
attentive servants grovel
perfectly pleased to preen
as common soldiers while away
the quick moments of their lives
until the final stanza
battle screams, widowed wives
bullet sandwich breakfast
shrapnel pie for brunch
body bags for supper
shit and mud for lunch
something on the radio
the leader's can't agree
further talks tomorrow
perhaps yet peace may be
advisers are advising
the innocent are dying
beasts and buddhas sympathise
the leaders can't stop lying
but wait there's been a breakthrough
the deals have all been signed
the oil is in the barrels
the gold and jewels mined
communicate the press release
now sated they do order
glorify the martyr's death
the graveyard is a hoarder
a thousand generations now
one more will it matter
think they one more drop of blood
will make the gold cow fatter
why do they wake the bloody beast
why do they profit from it
blue murder in the name of god
by christ they make me vomit

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A Degree Or Two

the talk around the table turned
to matters of import
and one of those there seated
was heard to make retort
above the hubbub and the drone
of lively conversation
being carried on at once
expressing reservation
on a point of relevance
to the current topic
underlying all the words
the feeling was entropic
silently they heard her out
and weighed her every word
then they went back to the task
her point was not absurd
the level of intensity
that of the conversation
had risen a degree or two
'twas how to save a nation
without the need for shedding blood
while protecting property
they felt belonged to all of them
the weal of the free

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Equal

a day's work by lunchtime
another one by bed
her thoughts they keep running
around in her head
the world won't address her
or listen at all
to her female opinion
'tain't worth bugger all
if not for her mother
if one she has got
there'd be little comfort
when tied in a knot
by rules and conventions
invented by men
and that's not to mention
a 'good slap' now and then
so silent she wanders
through every day
in search of a foothold
for children at play
and life as an equal
at home and abroad
no wonder she's lonely
frustrated and bored
but men will be menfolk
and boys will be boys
and that's why i wonder
i don't hear a noise
when tuppence talk turns to
a fair go for she
who walks without mention
a slave to the free

for women's day

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Crossroad

if the king of kings is here
yet unbeknown to we
a latter day odysseus
king of our kingdom free
i wonder if his queen of queens
is waiting for him where
her suitors dig their graves in such
a way as to declare
the trap that they have set for him
the one inside our minds
that makes the truth a spectre
so distorted that it blinds
the people of a world at war
with light and life and love
pity noah's wife was less 
important than the dove
what would he say to ham and shem
young japheth wants to know
how would he call jerusalem
which way would he go
when there are three mothers
all claiming one small child
with telemachus in the streets
running hot and wild
and three gods in the temple
all arguing the point
with priests and politicians
for the power to anoint
so if you are a suitor
you'd do well to understand
it's just an ancient crossroad
with water close at hand