Night Fall
The Night Fall
My evening walk was interrupted by night. Keeping close the verge
of the road I fell down a ditch, and saw stars as never before.
A kaleidoscope of colours swiveling around and around in my head
Life, we never see in daylight, was all around me, spirit shadows in
a haste to find food and safety before man intruded. Knew I had
caused chaos in their life, I got out of there and heard silent relief.
Starry, starry night, as the song goes, trees moved and whispered
scary stories about the man with the chainsaw, whether it is true
there is a Paradise for trees. Wished I could tell them a tall story
with a happy ending- no turning into winter woods and ashes for
them, but a malevolent mule kept kicking me home as it wanted
the night to itself.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Hunting Season
hunting season
Every Saturdays and Sunday there is a war going on in the woods,
man against birds and rabbits. On my lemon tree sparrows and
hawks sit and wait for Monday. In my garden rabbits seek shelter
from shoot gun pellets, eat my flowers and dig holes. My dog is
desperate its instinct is to go out and kill them. Killing for sport, is
like bullfighting without spectators, grown men, sneaking about
amongst trees slaughtering the innocent; not unlike the Settlers
behaviour against the Palestinian olive pickers and goat herders.
Monday morning I shovel wheel barrow’s full of bird droppings
from the ground that is also full of holes. Something got to be done
with these awful animals, why do they not move to neighbouring
woods and seek shelter there?
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Reptile
The Reptile
The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land,
with, perhaps, a crocodile skeleton on.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
An Emigre
I have lived in this foreign country long, perhaps longer
then I should. Many seasons I have seen, my hair is grey
brow wrinkled from seeking understanding. I know their
culture and sing their songs. But I came here as an adult,
I have read Fernando Pessoa, know Fado and can talk
about my favourite singers. Yet, this culture is not in my
soul it does not echo in my heart. I wanted to be a part of
my new Iberian country, but when I remember a lullaby
my mother used to sing a cold Nordic winter night; when
guests have gone home and the party is over, I know I’m
forever a pretender. I have lived here long, too long, but if
I go to back to the old country I will be a stranger walking
in a town where no one knows my name and I’ll dream of
my mythical Portugal.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Old News
Old News
As the clock struck seven, a summer evening, outside
the town hall, a horse pulling a cart bolted. The driver
fell off and broke a leg, a policeman on duty was able
to stop the horse and calm it down. In our small inland
town this was a big event and many people took their
evening walk down to the town hall and stood in groups
listening to what the witnesses, two elderly men who
spent their time there sometimes doing odd jobs but
mostly hung around doing nothing; now for once they
had an audience and were treated as equals. News get
old and little is as stale as yesterdays´ the driver’s leg
mended, the horse was made into glue and tasty salami,
no one was interested in what a pair of layabouts had
to say, not now that a circus was coming to town.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Unremembered
The Unremembered
From the deepness of unconsciousness floats up pieces of memories,
like torn pictures of a past I can’t recall. I see a child standing on a chair
seeing his image in the window. A man, in the street below looks, up
and smiles. A war plane, flies low comes nearer, flies right through
the house and continues out to the sea. Old dreams and forgotten
memories have no beginning, no ends; they can’t be expanded and made
coherent. A mighty surge of fear passes though me, an unremembered
memory absorbed into my nascent brain before I was born? The unborn
child remembers but there is silence and it can’t be articulated into words.
I listen to an ancient hum that is as old as nature to better understand
a future that has no knowing conscience.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Class Divide
It was an odd situation the town was divided by a river.
The west side was the posh part. I lived there, that is
I worked as a cook at a tourist hotel and had a room in
the basement of the hotel. The east, across the river,
was where my girlfriend lived, a working class area
that only had gritted roads and houses were not painted.
The hotel director’s daughter loved me even though,
she had gone to a boarding school in Swiss, all I had
to do was to take elocution lessons and the world of
paved roads and villas would be mine. But my heart was
in uproar I loved the girl across the river she spoke my
language, salty and direct. So I crossed the Rubicon
an August night when the moon was full, but I had
dallied too long, she didn’t want a boyfriend who spoke posh.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
a sonnet (San suu kyu)
A Sonnet (San Suu Kyu)
Aung San Suu Kyu the fragrant daughter of a Burmese
general is a scented lovely lady. Four years ago when
she was 60 I wrote her a poem and it disappeared into
the www. It’s her dignity and silence I find compelling
I wouldn’t mind waking up in the morning and find her
face on the pillow beside me. Yes, I know call me what
ever you want, had she looked like Hillary Clinton, I
would have protested against 18 month house arrest
but my heart wouldn’t have been involved; now I feel
as I’m losing her forever and I will never meet her and
and say the three words I have waited so long to say.
She is a symbol of peace and democracy, ok so I leave
the politics up to you, all I want her to do is to see me
smile and recognize my love for her.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Thne Ascent
The Ascent.
I walked on the vast plateau the everlasting wind of time had blown away
the sand and exposed millions of skeletons and the memory of man from
whence his brain was the size of a peanut. It is bigger now, filled with
images of pornography and war. I came to an oasis, but its water was full
of coagulated blood, but I must drink it or explode into atoms at dawn.
Stronger I walked on, crushing ancient rib cages gleaming in moonlight.
A vast iceberg blocked my way it sparkled as a diamond, decorated with
religious promises of salvation, but I had to climb up and over it if I wanted
to know what was on its other side; emptiness or the final axiom?
Since I’m human, and have no choice, I reluctantly began my ascent.
My hands were cold and my heart fearful.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Medley
Medley
“Moon light and lovers” yes I remember it well,
now I´m grateful for moonlight when going to
the outdoor loo where rats assemble.
Yesterday, when love was easy, yet she left
I blamed my after shave…me the lover had
my pick but the one that mattered left.
Everybody love somebody sometimes, I loved
everybody at the same time and found to my
utter surprise abandoned by everyone.
Smoke got in her eyes I was only trying to be
sophisticated, I left to hide away, but a man
needs his mate…but I had left it too late.
Love and glory, why didn´t I see that, thought
glory had to do with war. When she married
a hero, I saw it all and shot them both.
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!