Family Drama
Family Drama
A couple, in their fifties, is coming out of the supermarket,
he sits in wheelchair she pushes him along. He is grumpy,
swears at her for a reason I don’t know, perhaps he thought
she had spent too much money on groceries. She loses her
temper; parks him on the pavement, puts the shopping in
the car and drives off. He just sits there smoking a cigarette
and waits. Five minutes later she returns, helps him into
the car, folds up the wheel chair puts it in the boot and
drives off. On his lips a smile quivers, is it of triumph or love?
DIRE
Le mariage est plein
De grandes espérances
Irréalisées.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Way
A Way
I saw a narrow side road unused now but
scars from cartwheels are still visible. On
both sides' walls have partly fallen down,
no longer protecting or guarding anything,
obvious except, perhaps, memories; yet
the walls, with yellows spring flowers on
looked graceful as the easterly softly blew.
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Worried Water Vertebrates
And the sun keeps on shining a bit warmer now in Mars.
But rain keeps away and fish in the cisterna are worried.
Is this the end of their world? Tiny fishes lives on what?
Planned cannibalism every two, three months, perhaps?
Small and translucent I see their quickening heart beats.
Open the cisterna's lid so they can see the blue clear sky.
Since they may take me for the creator must show them
They are not forsaken and I cannot be blamed for this.
And the sun keeps on shining, a bit warmer now in Mars,
But Louis, the farmer, and I know this can lead to calamity.
Cisterna... a place to store rainwater (Portuguese)
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Landfall
Landfall.
Normandy, the day the allied landed,
should like the holocaust not be forgotten,
it spelt the end of a malevolent empire.
When landing crafts hit the shore, many
brave soldiers died before they could step
ashore on the golden sand of Normandy.
By blind courage and a will of steel many
soldiers got to where banks are steep
seek shelter and rest before carrying on.
This, a hard war, yet an honourable one;
there are times when wars must be fought
as we cannot afford let the world drown.
Dictators come and go, but we must not
shirk in our duty to face them squarely
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Hunter And Dog
The Hunter.
The man who crosses the field carries his shotgun
tucked into his left arm. In his belt five rabbits hang.
This is not a hobby hunter in camouflage outfit,
but a mall time farmer who uses the wildlife to
augment his meager income… his dog that has been
walking at heel runs in front of him, barks, and up
from the tall, dry grass a rabbit springs a shot and
now he has six rabbits hanging from his belt….
He will sell his catch later at a hotel or restaurant.
The man who crossed field, his face is naturally dark,
by years spent outdoors, walks into a landscape of
trees and bushes and disappears from view.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Great Sutton
Great Sutton
Cypress lane, I lived there for years never saw a tree.
Gas fire in the living room, the bedrooms were glaziers,
If it hadn’t been for the pub nearby I would surely have
frozen to death; that’s why I used to fall asleep on
the sofa, in the living room, when coming home from
the pub. If my wife was in the mood she sat up waiting
for me, most of the time she wasn’t; said I was a drunk.
Sober people came knocking on my door, insisted on
telling their story, politely I let them talk, but I noticed
they smoked a lot and that wasn’t good for my throat.
Warm pub, cold bedroom, no contest, I got up and left.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Awareness
The Awareness
As the days of light draw in I’m pulled
back to a mythical past, and I remember
a perfect moment, when time stood still
and we’re a contented family.
An alarm clock rang, a shift worker had
to get up, do his job, a summer evening
that would never return when nature
and humanity were as one
No one remember them now, traceless
but for a box of old photos in the drawer,
bones that rattle in the night; the expanse
between us is unbridgeable now
As the memory fades into a shadow
and faces are hidden in a miasma of time,
there is in the vanishing light a beacon
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Gun Play One
Gunplay 1
They don´t have guns in heaven only tooth picks,
but god has got a golden gun, given to him by
the producer of James Bond movies.
He toys with it just for fun when newcomers
arrive, but most of the time the gun is on top
of the bible he wrote once upon a time.
Not that he has copyright, he will be the first
to tell you, but with the help of strange people
who insisted he had spoken to them.
Sometimes when god is alone he put the gun
to his temple and…click... nothing happens
it is all in jest or is it? Infinity can be a burden.
Now, if you wonder about the tooth picks,
angels like to welcome you with a bright smile.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Missing
The Missing Boy
The farmer boy had his knapsack on and walked from the inland,
he had not seen the ocean only knew about it as a dream he wanted
to be a part of. At every milestone a maid telling him to turn back
go tend his cows. When seeing the wondrous ocean he walked on it
towards the sinking sun as it painted the ocean glittering golden.
No one had told him it was not possible to walk on water; yet he did.
He had been observed a boy’s shimmer across the sea, many thought
they had seen an angel. Boats were looking for him with lanterns, and
sirens blared. Dawn, gleaming sun on blue sea and the boy was a ray
of sunlight.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Lost President
The Lost President
Poor George, the president, deserted by foe and
friends, roaming the corridor of his big white
house like a ghost of yesterday. Cry he does and
says to his wife: Why, have they forsaken me?
she cradles him in her arms and says: “there, there
George don’t mind them, you kept the braying
enemy away for eight years, and in time a street
will bear your name, you can be sure of that”
Reassured George get on his bike and cycles from
eight to nine, but since the morning news doesn’t
mention his name and there is talk of a Moslem
called Obama he frets again, till a flunky tells him
he is still the president.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!