Poetry Blog by jan oskar hansen

my lies are bigger than yours

My lie is bigger than yours.

 

So it is Sunday early afternoon light rain

and I`m not a weather forecaster, and   no one pays me

for this observation, perhaps the seagulls do

they are flying low today.

The journalist who bravely fought 15 men, was put him

in a rocket that exploded when high enough, I found

a finger that looked Arabic, but the dog snatched

out of my hands...

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fishing boat

Fishing boat

 

 A man bought an old fishing vessel

it had a steering house, but the door was rotten

he got a new door a painted it sea green.

Sometimes he forgot to close the door and a sea lime wave

swept him on to the deck, when tried to find the handle

a flounder hang on it he slipped hit his head on the ladder

on the step leading into the steering room.

He painted th...

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character

A character trait

 

She was divorced with one child a daughter

had met a man she liked going out for the first meal

the daughter was playing it up her mother tried

to calm her to no avail.

Her new friend lost his temper and shouted, whatever

his profession he was no a psychologist.

Deadly silence at the table, the man tried to say something nice,

but it was too late. The...

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rolf, the talking machine

 Rolf, the talking machine

 

There are moments in life when you meet someone

 you take an instant dislike to who endlessly talk about

things they don`t know about if you tell them something

they don`t hear what you say, just waiting for their

a chance to rambles on.

He has the sort of face exuding stupidity and is inviting

you to punch him flat and jump on him.

You know ...

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handwriting

Handwriting

 

I was sent a book used when I went to catering

college 60 years ago, I had signed it on a page inside.

What was remarkable was my handwriting

which was a little shaky and insecure like a person

who yet to come to grips with life and tries to

make himself invisible.

The book, about hygiene on ships and how much water

a person needed every day; the text was d...

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the seeker

The Seeker

 

“Go silent go Deep” a title of a film he saw of Curd Jürgen

an actor who got manly roles and looked good in Nazi uniform,

but somehow was a hero who did the right things.

 

Alone in the house, he tries to go silent and deep into his mind

pieces of shrapnel of a bombed out U-boat, dead sailors

floating about until a creature takes pity and eats them.

 

It ...

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everlasting war

Everlasting war

The new normal in the twentieth century is war

it has continued without a break a perpetual machine

of mass killing, someone somewhere must see

war as a business in which every country has a bloody hand.

Politicians, the handmaiden for manufacturers

of weaponry claim, they only sell the weapon for peaceful

means this as bombs fall in Yemen.

The Afghan war ag...

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while waiting

While waiting

 

While I was waiting for the poem, I was going to write

to show up but I can`t find the right words

starting the process, I have amused myself by

writing two smaller things. I look at my nails

they are too long but clean mainly because I do

the washing up after lunch by hand or rather

two hands I have never heard of a one-armed dishwasher.

Thought of the G...

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a message

A message

 

An angel sat on the window ledge

Wanted to come in which was understandable

It was a cold night. Walk through the window glass

for heaven’s sake, you are an angel

the angel refused it would ruffle its wings.

He opened the window and let it in and since it

was worried about its looks he took it to be a female.

The angle denied this insisted it was sexless, God

...

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reflection after 80

Reflection after 80

 

He sat on the balcony enjoying his Nicorette

his 80 years day in October this year had been

a low-cost party, cheap wine and tough meat,

but that was ok he was not blessed having

too much money.

He decided when he was 90 it would be

a blowout affair with champagne and canape

like the rich do when they have birthdays,

He chuckled the idea of livin...

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headlines

Headlines

He was going to write his masterpiece

“The road to London” but the coach from

The airport had a blowout.

When he finally came to London, and it was

Morning and reading the headline

which asked several coaches have suffered

blowouts, could it be the Russians?

Another more sober paper said the accidents

were due to poor maintenance but that is

not a word that ...

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Laila

Dear Delilah

 

My, my dear Delilah I was drunk and fell on the floor

there I saw your lover hiding under the couch.

My, my dear Delilah I slit his throat with a knife

there was so much blood on the floor you got

a mop and tried to clean it up before the blood

was running down to the next level.

But I run away before there was a knock on

the door I couldn`t take anymore I...

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Melancholia

Melancholy

 

This is a blue day it is like having a ring

of steel pressing against my head.

Nothing matters there is no outlet and I want to go home,

anywhere, to get away from myself.

I sit on the terrace look at the view it is fucking boring

bloody sea like I shouldn’t have seen it before

after thirty years as a mariner.

This morning I saw athletic people running along...

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the apartment

The apartment

 

 

No, I don`t miss my old home the one I rebuilt

from a stable till a house, although its soul never stopped

being a stable a place for those who have no voice.

Thick walls made by stone from the small land windows

animals do not need light.

But walls talk I still hear their murmur and the hoof of

the mule scraping on the floor as it was dreaming of still

...

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Charles Aznavour and I

Charles Aznavour and I

 

Once in Southgate, I bumped into him

I apologised, so did he, and we continued on our way.

Further down the street, I said to myself

you touched a famous man, thought of running after

him telling I knew who he was, but since he knew

this already, he would think I was deluded.

I later saw a picture of him on the door of a restaurant

Where he had a...

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unlucky man

  How unlucky can a man get?

 

 There was a man, an ocean sailor,

in Argentina, he met a woman who he married.

During a storm, she was washed overboard, and

he couldn’t find her. Undaunted he continued

sailing around the world, met another woman

(from Sidney) and married her.

In the strait Moluccas, they were ambushed, the pirates shot

his wife. Well, life goes on and wh...

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when women rule

When women rule

 

 Today at the hospital my walked

on crutches ten meters on the way and the same

Distance back. Her swollen ankles were slim and downright sexy thought of patting

her on her ample bum resisted

she said this act was gross.

How am I to argue we live in the century?

Of women in charge woo the man who did something

that could be construed as an act of invasi...

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Recent Comments

M.C. Newberry on rolf, the talking machine (3 days ago)

M.C. Newberry on handwriting (4 days ago)

M.C. Newberry on the seeker (5 days ago)

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raypool on reflection after 80 (8 days ago)

Big Sal on Melancholia (10 days ago)

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keith jeffries on the apartment (11 days ago)

M.C. Newberry on when women rule (14 days ago)

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