Poetry Blog by jan oskar hansen

The old man sings the blues

Early morning the day had died

a wall of grey nothingness death without grief.

The night had been dreamless

had there been any night or had been erased,

life and death have merged this the end

of what I will see. 

Is my bed a coffin I have been let out of?

So I could see what the world was like when

it was colourless, an insipid oblivion,...

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Bombing raids

I was born before the world war two and remember

sitting in the basement of a school, in the dark with fearful adults.

The bomber planes where British looking for the airport

but everything was in darkness, failing their objective

bombs were dropped hit house many died, and there was fire.

It must have made a big impression on me, although

I cannot remember ...

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 Religion and a poet

When I was nine years of age I came to see religion

as a fairy tale and as we know the bible is written

by many scribes during a time, some of them were wise.

I like the Old Testament because it is full

of blood and thunder, the New Testament is a construction

a clean-up of the real thing making palatable for the squeamish.

I think the creator of our world...

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A voyage to Greenland

Greenland is the largest island in the world, but it is not a continent

I looked up Nuuk the capital up on the YouTube; it is now a modern town

with supermarkets and even cafes.

I was there fifty years ago. Back then it was a rather primitive place

with a million barking dogs and drunk people on the dirt roads,

they used to hang dogs slowly so the hairs...

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The murderous Garden

  My childhood`s garden looked wonderful

this early summer, full of flowers trees and bushes

barefoot I walked into this wonder.

Then something happened the grass grew taller, tall as me;

they blocked my view tried to

Tie up my feet and pushed me towards a thorny bush.

I tried to run that was impossible, but somehow

and slowly got out of the wilderness ...

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 Once  upon a time

I was, it seems like 100 years ago,

on an old fashion cargo ship, the carried all sorts

from potatoes, flour, machine parts, plastic flowers,

and tinned fruit, meat, and hats for the wife of the president

in Honduras.

For some reason, there was a door in my store room

it led into a cargo hold I filled the larder till it looked

like a corner shop. My...

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 The merchant ship

The ship leaves Rotterdam

sail to the med, and through the Suez channel

into the red sea, the vessel arrives at an oil terminal

and all you see is pipelines storage tanks and sand,

then the ship goes back the same way.

The sea in its different mood can be lovely to look

at but after some time it gets boring.

Or a containership jam-packed with boxes that

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Vanishing flowers

On the bush near the terrace, the one sparrows 
pick small leaves for their nests the red roses are falling off
they dance with dust on the road are run over
by tractors that have no soul.
A puppy tries to catch them when it does it spits 
those out, the flowers are no food for it.
In a few days, the flowers will fly away don`t
know where, but they will be back next spr...

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A love story too 

We are making love

But in your eyes I see

You think of someone else.

At climax

You shout out the name

“Rudolf.”

Who the hell is he?

I resentfully ask.

The red-nosed reindeer

You say and smile.

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Appreciative

Six o`clock

In the morning

Is the best time

To get up when it is summer

Stay on the terrace

Inhale the air

Before it gets hot

Make a coffee

Just being alive

Elderliness is to be grateful

For little things

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Ethnicity

                              When I came to England

I couldn`t get a job opened a café instead

in a district called Wavertree, Liverpool

Someone said Jews live there I didn`t see any

the people I befriended told me they were Jewish

that made no difference to me.

I never cared what ethnicity people, have never had.

But I`m highly critical of Israel which I regard ...

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