poetry and vignettes
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 14, 2018 at 2:15 AM||comments (0)|
I don`t know why I wrote this
You must remember this, a kiss
is not enough I have to pay the maid
as time goes by.
Tomorrow she will be back and do my den
it`s full dust flying in the breeze like half-forgotten dreams
and projects never done.
You must remember this I was not good at dusting shelves
this because today I feel old
but tomorrow I will be like Tarzan and not believe
that life will ever end.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 14, 2018 at 1:00 AM||comments (0)|
We are leaving tomorrow
open a bottle of beer
It ain`t cold
The fridge is defrosting
Have lived for 30 years
Am I excepted?
to be joyful?
I should protest
be a stubborn mule
seven floor up
not a mule in sight
I can lose the car keys
say I will arrive later.
Just now I adopted a cat
it can`t come
I feel sorrowful
cried for no reason
they say I`m a fool
I agree, but know
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 13, 2018 at 3:25 AM||comments (0)|
The old soldiers Café
We went to my favoured restaurant it is no longer so,
on a table near us sat a group of Ukrainians eating plenty
of meat with sausage and the server said there was no more left
so we lunched on a dish I wasn`t keen on.
Eight of them men with brutal faces and as the wine flowed
they spoke about the war and killing Russians.
Two of them looked like assassins, those with long knives
who kill silently in the night, eating the food I wanted.
My wife said I was fantasising they were workmen who
had left their country to seek employment elsewhere I was not sure.
My food didn’t look as good as theirs, so we left early and
I didn`t eat my food left the glass of wine untouched in a futile
attempt to show my dislike, but no one noticed.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 13, 2018 at 3:15 AM||comments (0)|
The worst job I ever had
was on a rescue ship in the North Sea
in the winter time and we had to stay there
no matter how big the storm was.
Each shift was three weeks, and it was
exhausting not quite knowing if I was climbing
a wall or the deck.
It was often impossible to cook any food we
lived mostly on Irish stew or something that only needed one pan,
fighting to keep it on the stove.
Heading back to shore I swore never again,
but I was under contract and had to do three more battles with the sea.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 12, 2018 at 4:55 AM||comments (0)|
I find I have written about rowing boats
hate them they are too close to the surface of the sea.
I always preferred to be on big ships
high above the water.
Sometimes in bad weather, the sea came surging on the deck
but had the politeness to disappear where it came from.
Once when the ship I was on was a fire in stormy Atlantic
The captain ordered everyone to go on the lifeboats
they all perished.
I sat in the potato cellar and pretended I was a potato.
The ship didn`t sink.
The fire died out by itself the sea calmed and
the captain who was a hero had stayed on his bridge,
was surprised to see me but not pleased my presence reminded
him he had given the wrong order.
I hate rowing boats, too near the sea where monsters live.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 11, 2018 at 4:00 AM||comments (0)|
Obituary of a cook
A famous French cook has passed away
this is sad of course, but it shows how the world of catering
has changed character.
From an unshaven backroom man to a leader but only
a leader in his restaurant for cooks holds no other power.
I enjoyed that he once threw a plate of spaghetti
after Chef Ramsey for not making ravioli right, mind
with a master like that no wonder George Ramsey swears a lot.
But hang on a bit, if we elevate cooks to the status
of world leaders of great importance then we should stop
and think of the millions of women who cook for their
family and do so by being economical with their food so
it can be used the next day.
Of course, there are millions of women in our modern
society for whom the sight of a carrot or a potato leaves them flabbergasted,
but as the fairy tale says
need makes a naked woman knit a blouse.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 10, 2018 at 4:05 AM||comments (0)|
In the Silicon Valley the sit the tsars of high tech
producing stuff, you didn`t know you needed
They know the Armageddon is coming but try
not to stop it, as it will obstruct their profit.
When the world resources are depleted and
nuclear war beckons, they are too busy to find
a secure place to survive the upcoming wars.
With all their intelligence combined, they see
not the indefinite human mind, their survival
will be a vast nothingness
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 9, 2018 at 1:40 AM||comments (0)|
An Odd Bird
The seagull and I were flying over the Andes.
the mountain was brown, and we saw a lake green
as an emerald ring on an Irish girl`s finger.
Let’s fly down and have a bath I said, the gull said
the lake was poisonous, so we continued on our way
to the pampas of Argentine.
Landed on a jade green patch of the land
it was then the seagull confessed it suffered
from hydrophobia, it was, therefore, it had left
the Pacific Ocean and avoid derision from birds
that loved the sea and diving for fish.
But a seabird is supposed to like fish.
Who says, the gull angrily uttered I like cooked
meat with boiled potatoes, anything wrong with that!
we walked to an inn, that is the bird sat on my
shoulder, had lamb chops with mint sauce, are you not
surprised to see a bird in here, I asked the landlord,
no not at all it often comes in here it is
the first time I have seen it with a human.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 8, 2018 at 3:45 AM||comments (0)|
About me (isn`t it all)
Old age is travel towards death, and I spend
the waiting time writing what I call alternative poetry
as I`m not fond of swanky poems full of adjectives.
I have published many books of poetry on the Amazon
and about 30 E-books each book is about thirty pages
consist of poetry and opinion and read by no one.
I have a catering education but what I know comes
from reading massive amounts of books and
newspapers, of a solitary figure, except my wife
have no friend (they are all dead) should she go
before my life would be no worth living.
Every morning I sit pedalling away on my stationary bike,
try to get in an hour, but it is like going nowhere fast.
I comment on what I read in the Guardian and on twitter,
like to read George Galloway`s opinions, he is small
of stature, is a narcissist and should be careful not getting
to close to Russia, the bear has sharp claws.
I spend my time (if not wisely) by being active this because
boredom beckons when I have nothing to do.
In the evening I drink wine and fall asleep in front of the TV
I have always been a drinker, but dislike drunkenness.
|Posted by jan oskar hansen on September 7, 2018 at 4:00 AM||comments (0)|
I like Mondays
it starts hopefully
are a setback
then it goes
all the way
to bloody Sunday