Blog

poetry and vignettes

view:  full / summary

the sexes

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 13, 2017 at 3:45 AM Comments comments (0)

The Sexes

 

Man drives wife to the supermarket

Man finds a trolley

Inside woman takes over

Man picks up things like washing powder

Of the type wife

Decides is the best.

Woman takes the lead

Do the shopping

Man pays at the till

Carry the grocery to the car.

Man drives home

Carries bags into the kitchen

Wife put food in the fridge

Man, not competent

Has no sense of order

Man takes a drink

Watch football and shouts

To the players

When in fact he thinks

Of his wife.

 

the brewery

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 12, 2017 at 4:10 AM Comments comments (0)

The Brewery

It goes back a long time when I saw this closed down

the brewery, on the wall, faded letters proclaimed

Portugal`s best beer. The was an enormous gate into

the courtyard I could smell the sweating horses

and saw the iron rings on the wall where they were

tied waiting for their cart to be filled with beer crates.

There were many cats around, once they had been fat

living off the beer foam, waiting for a good time

returning. I tried the front door, massive it was but

not locked I half opened it but then felt spooked there

might some spirits resent my intrusion?

Twenty years later and the place was bustling with

life, pro, and amateurs can exhibit their work there,

It is easy to spot the difference, the amateur looks happy

with his work, the pro thinks his work is not so good

as he had planned it

When the cats realized that the beer would not flow,

they went back doing what they best do catching mice.

 

several haiku

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 10, 2017 at 4:30 AM Comments comments (0)

Haiku

 

Beautiful horses

But it is the modest mule

That carries our load

 

Tidy office building

Busy and efficient place

Kept clean by janitors

Our great cities

Without armies of cleaners

Uninhabitable

 

Galloping filly

Bets are on black beauty

The jenny won

 

 

 

mean machine

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 8, 2017 at 4:20 AM Comments comments (0)

Mean Machine

 

The locomotive was an old mean machine

only used for carrying gods at local stations along

boring flatland. Once it had been a young and

the President of Portugal rode on it, not only him

but many other high up all the way to Lisbon.

And now? It wanted to go hiding somewhere dark,

but where does one conceal an iron horse?

The train passed near the parking lot in Faro

I was out with my dog, and there I could let her

run free. There was a hole in the fence were

the tracks. Naturally, she jumped through.

She saw the train that seemed to speed up

with murderous intent when she jumped clear it

was too late. I had her buried and the following

days were long and full of sadness.

 

the applause

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 7, 2017 at 4:00 AM Comments comments (0)

The applause

 

I had a drink before to a poetry reading and since I was nervous

drank a few whiskeys and spoke dramatically about the plight of the Palestinians

I needed help to get down from the stage since my glasses were at the hotel.

Next day we went to a meeting where the top of

The educated class go, I thought they were idiots they had erudition but no

learning, So I got up and spoke for fifteen minutes.

The silence was colossal, think of a needle falling from the galaxy

and landing on Himalaya I had committed the sin of saying

the global warming was a natural disaster and had nothing to do

with global warming.

The meeting was not reported in the local paper but what do

I know, I do not speak this Roman soldier’ language.

 

 

what you wish for

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 6, 2017 at 4:35 AM Comments comments (0)

What you wish for

 

It was Friday we were going out for a meal in the evening

I had visualized a fat pork chop with furrows of fat in the meat

whatever you say fat food taste better than chicken.

Since it was evening my wife thought an omelette would be

right for me and the waitress agreed – she is a friend-

But a few glasses of red wine were ok.

After eating the omelette, drinking the wine, I wondered if

they were patronizing me, so I had whisky with coke.

I tell you I was not drunk, but I felt an irresistible need to

tell a story, standing up and let my voice boom to drown

the audience with my erudition; it was not on,

we come home to catch the nine o`clock news.

 

the daughter

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 5, 2017 at 3:40 AM Comments comments (0)

The Daughter

 

I looked her into her brown eyes and said, I love you,

just straightforward without any hesitation or reservation

I had sometimes taken to get to this point because

I had said this so many times before to other women.

My wife believed me, and when I come home telling

her I have fallen in love with the check-out girl at

the supermarket, she called me an idiot but knows

the girl is the daughter I never had.

No, do not feel said my reason for wanting a daughter

is that I don`t want a nurse to look after me when

I get really old. You see my vanity is considerable

I have had an operation in my eyes, wear no glasses.

The next is a hair transplant, I long for the days when

someone thinks I’m my son, but I still dream of

a compliant daughter, and I wonder if this makes me

an anti-feminist.

 

the daugher

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 5, 2017 at 3:40 AM Comments comments (0)

The Daughter

 

I looked her into her brown eyes and said, I love you,

just straightforward without any hesitation or reservation

I had sometimes taken to get to this point because

I had said this so many times before to other women.

My wife believed me, and when I come home telling

her I have fallen in love with the check-out girl at

the supermarket, she called me an idiot but knows

the girl is the daughter I never had.

No, do not feel said my reason for wanting a daughter

is that I don`t want a nurse to look after me when

I get really old. You see my vanity is considerable

I have had an operation in my eyes, wear no glasses.

The next is a hair transplant, I long for the days when

someone thinks I’m my son, but I still dream of

a compliant daughter, and I wonder if this makes me

an anti-feminist.

 

Accidently in Paris

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 4, 2017 at 3:30 AM Comments comments (0)

Accidently in Paris

From the bus station in Paris, I was taking a taxi to a posh

part of Paris, the driver a Moroccan didn`t know the way, but I had a map

he could not read, so I navigated, first left, second right and so one.

We got there after three hours, I tried to pay, but the driver would

not hear of it, made a U. turn and shot at me, he was a lousy shot

I stood there in the street of houses ready to expel anyone

who didn`t behave rich and since I walk like a penguin was accepted,

They say a blond girl has much fun, but I tell you a bald man has

more fun at Molin Roughs, (wrongly edited.)

Synchronized dancing and I was thinking when are we going

to eat? Someone a woman I was temporally in love with, arranged

so I could have soup. It was a feathery show, and I sneeze a lot.

 

 

 

whistlestop

Posted by jan oskar hansen on December 3, 2017 at 4:05 AM Comments comments (0)

Whistle stop

There used to be a train station here it was busy

and many came from the village to see who was leaving or arriving

that was ok; it is nice to wave goodbye or

welcoming a relative that has been away too long and might have

picked up big city manners.

Then the ghost of privatization came, and the line was closed, but

there is a bus arriving twice a day, but lack romance

bus travel is so common everybody facing one way and no stretching

and pacing in the hall.

The train station was sold off as a dwelling and the terminal a garden

where, as we speak, a tourist was told to leave

he was pacing waiting for the last train to take him home and to

the airport; he had waited for twenty years.

Not that the wife of the house minded, she was a good hearted woman,

as long as he stood still he kept birds away and she

didn`t have to take him in when it rained he had an umbrella and was

happy when she bought him leftovers – she didn`t like dogs-.

Then a twilight day it happened a train stopped the tourist boarded,

a whistle-stop you might say, the train never came back.

 


Rss_feed