poetry and vignettes
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 23, 2017 at 3:45 AM||comments (0)|
A career path
The fireplace is full of ash and cold spring is here
walls full of soot time to either get someone to clean
or paint the room.
A cleaner came she refused to clean the wall, a painter
wanted to paint the whole house since that was not
needed, he left in a huff, something about time wasting.
I called my friend from Krakow he has got a steady job,
but is willing to earn some extra the money he saving up
to send his daughter to university, the locals do not see
The slow thinking painter came back offered to do the job
painting after five, too late the man from Poland was
coming he left in the darkest of moods.
As for the cleaner, she is selling herself at 30 euros my wife
has got that news from the hairdresser; when thinking of it,
an easier job than cleaning soothed walls even if she has
to unplug rusty pipes.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 22, 2017 at 5:55 AM||comments (0)|
At the doctor`s surgery, he had a young girl
training to be a diabetist; she had Chalcedony eyes
that shone brightly as onyx, her skin alabaster
without any blemish, a shy smile played upon her lips
a Mona Lisa unpainted.
I was a witness to perfection a beauty that can`t last
time will wear her down she will get a line between
her pert nose wrinkles around her eyes, of sadness
or laughter one hopes for the latter
Will the world fall into a devastating war and her
a victim of either hunger or radiation.
This didn`t mirror on her face only her glorious youth
and I was lucky to be an observer to the twinkling when
time stood still long enough for me to admire an ideal.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 21, 2017 at 5:40 AM||comments (0)|
I dislike wasting my time shopping for shoes
the man who wrote wasteland a famous poem
is known for this; he did like boots too for walking
He did indeed and many other things too
I, when I had a bike, cycled through wasteland
a domestic landscape growing beautifully wild
I don`t see it know there is a distance between
me and the dream I had, the touch the aroma of
nature is also a memory of horse manure in
a field verdant as the sea around Greenland.
I need a wasteland a place where I can lose myself
without it, life is an endless trivial repetition.
Tomorrow I will go buy a pair of walking boots.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 21, 2017 at 4:45 AM||comments (0)|
The is the sweetest, people friendly poem ever written
it is about moonlight, stars so clear so near you can reach
up touch one of them and make a wish about love, but be
stars can be icicles so cold your finger might fall off.
This a poem about a woman in white floating on a transparent
lake, and it is not Vivian Leigh who is visiting us once again
casting her spell over Sir Olivier should you be a film fan?
No, this is a bigger love story that encompasses all humanity,
but buggers me if I know what it is that no storm can stop
nor flood, this, the fatal attraction of men and women in disharmony.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 20, 2017 at 6:30 AM||comments (0)|
Is Love a compulsion, the sudden idea that this person,
no others, will meet all your need and make you happy.
It is a moment, falling in love only happens once when
you are among the blessed and anointed by the gods.
For some, the illusion lasts a lifetime for others it falls
at the first hurdle of familial tediousness.
Luckily love is transferable you meet someone else who
will make you happy but it will not be the same as first
time, no matter how many times you try to love, is a gift
only given once, the rest is a repetition
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 19, 2017 at 6:00 AM||comments (0)|
China & USA
In the shadow of banal news,
Russia and spying on elections,
lurks a threat that can lead to
nuclear war and the long night
drops by drips our mine is being
prepared for a war and hatred
this because two giants are on
collision course as the plates of
the earth are shifting, a political
disaster for the sake of power.
We who do not want a new war
are drawn into fake propaganda
learning to dehumanise a people
a war without winners bar those
hiding in caves underground with
their gold and worthless money
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 18, 2017 at 5:45 AM||comments (0)|
A bee and a cardiologist
I have patched it up with my cardiologist
I sent her one of my books and when I saw her apologised
For my behaviour, and with my new eye
I could see her clearly, but didn`t say so,
I like to burrow my head in her wonderful hair.
Sleep with her in a bed of feather till my heart is cured
Told my wife I was in love with my doctor,
She called me an idiot and said fetch the car while she
Waited In the foyer as it was raining.
I wonder why I`m so angry at time it is like having a bee
Inside my head sting me to be unpleasant and shout
At people, no point seeing a psychologist when
An apiculturist might be cheaper to help me getting rid of
The bee; if so, no more honey on my tongue
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 17, 2017 at 3:40 AM||comments (0)|
I adore cartoons
Nothing is impossible
Flying is easy
I admire cartoons
I can be whatever I want
An angle or an imp
I worship cartoons
And saxophone playing elephants
Serpents are charming
I venerate cartoons
They show insanity of man
And lightness of life
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 16, 2017 at 8:40 AM||comments (0)|
A Friend of the Mouse
Outside on the bottom wall of an old house
I saw a tiny mouse, picked it up it didn`t offer resistance
I looked the small life with wonder
It had lungs, eyes, a beating heart just like me, and a brain too
But of course its world view was
From a perspective of the place it occupied the election of
Trump not its concern and the feeding frenzy of the mass media,
The hysteria and wrong conclusions not to forget the hatred
Of those who thought they deserved to win.
I put the mouse down, it disappeared into a hole, and it will
Perhaps say to its friend:” God held me in his hands but let
Me, go in peace I feel blessed.”
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 14, 2017 at 6:35 PM||comments (0)|
We lived on the third floor the loo was in the basement
I saw my aunt peeing in the sink while mother was out
It took days to figure out who she did it, I asked my sister
She wanted to know why so I told her, but females speak
Told my mother….trouble.
I often peed in the kitchen sink at night, what else could I do?
Ghosts on steps and landing fat rats having a bath in the bowl
I never told my mother if she came into the kitchen I pretended
brushing my teeth, I also masturbated into it but that was only
when I was sure to be alone.
My mother was strict with the hygienic routine we had a big towel
And since there were four of us we had a corner each.