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Best Poems Written by Steve Hendrickson

Below are the all-time best Steve Hendrickson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Imperial Cage

The door; this door in front of my tired eyes,
How still my weary lies—encumbered pace;
Does longing vindicate my weary cries,
Or does one need to trace my engraved face?
While birds of sylvan shades have flown aside,
As flames engulfed the land: a swift-paced tongue.
The pain has spread across my cage; beside
The unchained spur of fear—possessed no langue.
Where will they go? where smiles are carved atop
The clouds, the woods, a tavern—Endless stock
Of forlorn hopes that try to fly but flop,
Towards the fair of bad dreams where they flock:
        To buy their long-lost stock of freedom high;
        My cage dissolved, at last I too can fly.

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Autumn Rain

It is the only thing alive for miles;
A wilted tree, with branches branched around
For hollow life—a crooked form—with piles
Of dying leaves, despite the rain around.
A single cheerless leaf of pallid hue
Lies waiting for the rain of sustenance;
Another leaf departed; mournful view
Devoured in ichor—rain of greyish glance.
Is it the end? Perhaps it is the end.
Is happiness a distant thing to fall?
Tis not a question but a hardened bend,
With frost a coming, death would see its fall
	Beneath the frozen earth; a burial urn
	Of solid clay, the autumn’s gradual; turn.

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Flames of Sorrow

Oh how I saw a dreadful thing today!
You wretched thing, your grievous wretched act,
How dare you leave me for this piece of clay!
Unkindly you have broke our solemn pact
To never leave each other in our hold
Of affectations held by bonding brass;
But yet you left the nest to keep the cold
Away from us, and joined this piece of crass!
Oh how I wish to —Nein!*—Explain no more!
My eyes are clear enough, my heart is not.
The forge of your demise I have begun
To light, to force the blade of budding clot;
	To reap what you have sown; the flames of hate
	Of love, of sorrow and despair, inflate!


Note:
Nein- German for no

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Pieces

Oppressive bells that tolls beyond descript
Oppressive walls with eyes that weary not;
Beyond my measure, Shame that runs adrift
That need not be existing—like the dot,
Nor this behooveth not, expanding skies
Alive, unmoving trinity, aloof—
Aground and mired again, in age, the cries
That swing sideways, a pendulum's shamed proof!
In mourning's cauldron, flow within its reach
And sideways swinging, heavy brass adored.
So heavy tolling--snapping rope—a breach,
Set loose beyond descript, which was long scored;
	Unpeeling grey and gold, in pieces fell,
	All crumbled—Gone—the vacance, free to sell.

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Bubbles

A momentary transcience that it had; 
It floated on the water like it should.
The floating form, it’s fleeting and it’s sad,
And seeking form—its virtue—if it could.
It stayed there for a while, transfixed and still,
Reflected floating leaf, a moment’s glance.
Companions came to grow its needy fill,
In momentary glance; it grows with chance.
“How fleeting is my form!” the bubble cried,
And sooner than it thought, its death was sung.
Resistance is for naught; a viper’s chide,
A slither in fluid form, sweeping tongue—
Another rises to the surface dark,
The tiny form soon grows in silvery dark.

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Marionette

Capricious as their music constant be,
No justice is delivered to my form,
Carried by chains; forever clinging free 
Within the stage unto my doom, perform.
Forever carried by my vines—support,
Attached to limbs of wooden lacquered brand.
Cajoling with my eyes of false rapport,
Allowed to stand in posture—weakened stand.
Collecting cheerfulness is my domain;
A courtesan of smiles; the stage my hall—
Celebratory of my grace, a drain
To history in which I lost my all
	Towards the face beneath my masking wood,
	My real identity, my constant mood.

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Glass Tears

Spring comes and leaves, and only fireworks bloom, 
The Queen of Nights, it blooms just once.
How spring and seasons bloom and go; advance, 
I'll never know, replacing bloom with gloom. 
We blossom brightly, brief and bound with light, 
We're seeds before, until we go so tall, 
The ball in court rolls off, and hits our call, 
Igniting blaze and colors, flash so bright. 
Then quickly bids farewell, we fade again.
The birthing sky turns grey, and greens turn blue. 
More fireworks bloom then fade, a fate so cruel; 
Smooth pomegranates scar then bawl again,
           I sit beside a tree observing you, 
           Then fade away, my silent touch, adieu.

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Funeral Song

When fancy does he come within one's life,
A candle gently placed goes out so quick.
Of course this is his job, yet one so rife,
And pain he caused to some in just a flick.
A march where veils can barely hide their tears
That rains could not compare their dreary wails;
No song can show the loss that sums all fears,
No hollow branch to hold the noose that fails.
Beneath the branch where he would make his stand,
To rub the names of those who have long passed,
Who paid their debts in kind beneath the land—
To sow it with their flesh whose life have passed:
     The rain is sly to time their deaths in gloom,
     His song's machined—and he will be their groom.