Cumoulous
On the sun-deck I saw two big clouds a man one
and a female, they met kissed and the man cloud
was transformed into a plucked chicken.
Not that the female cloud fared better for behind
her came huge troll cloud that absorbed her up its
nostrils. In the world of clouds you never see
the same formation twice, in this immaterial ever
changing world; it is as the saying goes: You can´t
cross the same river twice. Now a massive dark cloud
erased the picture, and as I didn´t want a drab cloud
hanging over me, I got up walked into the galley and
had a mug of coffee, while the cook fried pork chops.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Flick
The Flick
The blond girl had turned her back to the beach
head in hand her guitar flung aside, I think she
was crying. A man walked his dog another one
jogged, birds in V shape flew towards the eye of
the twilight; and no scientist saw the weeping girl.
Night, on a strand of sand that faced the mighty
Pacific Ocean I so often had crossed on my way
to the land of the setting sun. A girl alone and me
on a beach of forget us not, I walked over to tell
her go home; the girl was a heap of golden sand,
her fine guitar was flotsam of a blue fishing boat
and her bikini a tattered plastic shopping bag.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Aearial Painting
Aerial Painting
The painting in the hall of an old bi-plane flying
a across a blue sky, was different this morning,
it had landed by a waterfall and the pilots stood
leaning against the plane’s fuselage slowly
smoking a cigarette, eyes closed enjoying every
moment, every inhale of scented tobacco.
I looked at the painting again the sky was dark,
there was lightning in the air the pilot had flown to
the front and collided with a barrage balloon,
the plane was a broken as thrown to the ground by
a spoilt boy who had wanted a fire-engine for his
birthday, and know only the blue sky prevails.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Lack Of Rain
Lack of Rain
As evening began to fall heavy clouds gathered,
rain tomorrow the meteorologist said, a nice girl
about twenty five years old, and dressed in red.
So the clouds will be hanging about blocking out
stars till the next day when the girl gives the order
for the downpour that will turn into drizzle.
Heavy fighting in Pakistan, didn’t see any rain
though, but billows of black, oily smoke fearful
people trying to flee and a tough talking general.
When morning came it was sunny but quite chilly,
village dogs sat facing the east the meteorologist
had married and wanted a dry honeymoon.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Vilamoura (Portugal)
The sun is shining full and strong on the seaside town,
its marina is full toy boats only the rich can afford.
Restaurants and cafes are selling overpriced food and
drink under shady awnings and parasols.
In summers shade is costly under every tree a table
and waiters waiting to take your order. The midday
sun is relentless a throng of people walking up and
down the promenade, can they all be English?
I often walk here in late October when the elderly
come on holiday, shadows are free the sun is pale
on a fluffy sky, boats have sailed to a warmer clime
and the town dreams of last summer’s wine.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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French emancipation
French Emancipation?
French women are free well-educated and elegant,
yet spend too much times striving to attract men and
open their legs for anyone. Later they call it freedom
of choice while frantically trying to get money out of
the man who knocked them up and left them hanging
there twisting in their own distressing liberation.
They will intellectualize their misery, see themselves
as a Sagan melancholic, yet yearning to be middle
class housewives worrying about the prices of onions.
Yes, they will be married, to the very best address, and
meet other wives and talk endlessly about equality.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Heaven For Some
It's said, by those who have been there and back,
that hell can at times be a boring place, pink
lightening and women that endlessly try a new
frocks on. Here are pools of banal sin, rivers
of pornography and small time crooks trying
to sell you fake religious icons, but not one evil
dictator around repenting his murderous ways,
or a capitalist swine now regretting cheating
workers of their pension rights. Where do they
go? Are they pardoned and sent to a privatized
heaven where they play high stake poker with
senior seraphs? I'd like to know before I rob
a bank. I'm fed up with stealing children's toys.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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After Rain
After Rain
The audacious sun finally showed up, and green
was the winter landscape. I also saw where the sun sets,
just behind the old carob oak, where the almond trees
first blossom. Soundly and snug under a carpet of wild
flowers the sun snoozes till dawn.
Over the easterly range, which is the first defense against
Spanish marauders and the rain on its plain, the clouds
were dark blue, perhaps more rain tomorrow?
In fading light musical notes danced down a phone line,
the first flirt of spring? And should it rain tomorrow,
I will not be downhearted this day will keep me warm for
a week or so.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Foreign Country
A foreign country
The flat was on the third floor, three flights of wooden stairs
deep groves from generation of people walking up and down.
In the living room I sat down. Had been away for long no one at
home. The autumn wind blew, the house swayed and creaked
like an old schooner meeting the Atlantic swells.
A simple living room, a few family pictures and an amateur
painting of a row boat in a fjord, boathouse, blue sky and sea,
a far hazy silhouette of a mountain range. The painting was
ominous by its deadness. I got up went down the same stairs;
I had entered, the past and those I knew had gone.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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On The Highest Crest
On the Highest Crest
Beautiful October
God has gone main-stream
Ignores the seasons
Wants to be loved by us all
Before the big deluge
Lovely October
God disregard the cycles
My river is dry
While I sunbathe by its shore
And think of buying camels.
Godly October
Vacation’s our new deity
Tomorrow is today
Frost and snow are banished
But Himalaya is an island
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
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