Poetry Blog by jan oskar hansen

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John Coopey on ages (2 days ago)

Aviva Rifka Bhandari on ages (2 days ago)

Tommy Carroll on may morning (4 days ago)

Stephen Gospage on a little argument (6 days ago)

Nazia Khan on a little argument (6 days ago)

Stephen Gospage on echography (7 days ago)

Ghazala lari on Derik and Floyd (8 days ago)

Tom Harding on the mourning (14 days ago)

Tom Harding on a moment in time (14 days ago)

Stephen Gospage on the mourning (14 days ago)

tired angels

Tired Angels


 He was a lucky man by his side angels walked

or perhaps flittered a little jostling as they all wanted to be near him.

Absentminded, he came near the fiord walked across.

He was out cashing crabs that clung to the sheer cliff wall, yes, and a plastic bucket.

He got five crabs and walked back the same way the angels sweated he had trusted

(unknowingly) their bli...

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 When I was young my youth lasted a long time.

When someone said next year, it sounded as it was forever.

I remember the long summers

but realize it is the sum of many summers.

Since in our estimation summer lasted long into autumn

and mild winter.

The real cold season lasted a month, and since

We didn´t sit still it didn´t feel so cold.

Now that I`m old the seasons...

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the foresight

The foresight


When I look back on my life, which I seldom do

I think in my writing, I should be deeper; alas, my self-mockery gets in the way.

Why should I think I`m intellectual to have any worth to say?

It appears to me that many on Facebook feel important enough

to enlightening us with their homilies?

If you live like this or that, you will find peace and happiness.


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may morning

May Morning


A strange morning, clouds look like they were trying

to put up wallpaper, but the work was too much, and they left the project.

Drips like glue fell into the sea and became flakes of sunlight.

An aeroplane crossed the sky. It looked old, and its wheels were not retracted

perhaps it was a private plane doing a bit of exercise keeping its owner alert.

A seagull fle...

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This beautiful country is in the gripe of the pandemic.

Pyre after pyre burns in the night.

Ash and ashes fill the mourners settle on their clothes

and death is inhaled.

The people of this ancient land are stoic because

they know that there is no death, only a continuation

of life.

No politician can break the pact the Indian people have

with the past and futur...

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a little argument

a little argument in Portugal


at the pharmacy

a man tried to get in front of me[U1] 

I would have none of it

We had words.

But something he said

Stuck in my mind;

We don´t like you (foreigners)

We only tolerate you.

The people at the pharmacy

Fell silent.

I had the sense they agreed with him.






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On a bed attached to many wires, my body was prodded

by female hands, at my age, it was not everyday people touch me.

My heart sounded like an old steam-ship battling the waves off Greenland

seeking calmer water; as for my pacemaker, it sounded like

a pump in need of repair.

I fell asleep, which caused laughter from the staff; it is not often

happen to a patie...

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Derik and Floyd

Derik and Floyd


Is an American tragedy unmasked?

Both were victims of America´s flawed system of justice.

Floyd died; his life was not angelic

but he did not deserve death in the street.

Derik ended up in prison (rightly so)

but the court case was a farce.

The procedural system was ignored, the justice was not blind.

The veritas had wide-open eyes in haste to find Deri...

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what happens to Facebook

Is Facebook turning into a sewing club



There is a woman they call Winfree.

She swims in the nude all year long.

in winters, her body is bluish

in the summer deeply tanned.

She has seen me often tell her neighbours

I´m a disgusting old man.

Not that I mind, they can call me what they like

it is not for me to write to The Facebook

being offended by a mere bagatel...

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the fear

The fear


Looking out, the day was dazzling with deep shadows

in the corners and under dead street lamps.

Reticent lips exploded gave birth to a scream which

Shattered the forenoon, only white heat remained.

Window glass dripped became petrified like

were fish eyes glared as the day was punished down an abyss.

Of black, shiny boots trampled all fragment.

But the fiend’s...

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the abbess

The abbess


Blue-eyed prayers drip from

lips white as snow on a mountain top

her face is oriental alabaster.

Restless feet on stone floors

Every candle becomes a temptation

a magnetic attraction.

Over the wall, she will not flee

Faithful as she is to her abstract lover.

When desires leave her

and her steps are ponderous

she is the new abbess.



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Closer and closer they came

old women with faces made of lava

and stinking volcanic mouths.

Bodies of soil after years of drought,

dead oasis simmered

between thin thighs and haloes

of brittle hair.

They slowly stomped during ancient dust

covered their bird claw feet.

I turned and fled through a thorny bush.

Stumbled into indifference time.


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what few see


What few see


99% of people do not care about poetry

and why should they?

The sheep who feed among the olive trees,

 the furtive fox, is crossing a field.

 the forest full of life and rabbits jumping over

A sinking stone walk.

The climbing rose flower surrounding a house.

Where an old lady leaves and her grandson bringing

Her food and the latest news.

The cat...

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love unseen

Love unseen


 A sleek body arose from the bath

foam fondled her thighs

and the triangle of life.

The fire in the hearse hissed

painted her body with the fire of lust,

only the window saw her body´s hunger.

A pail of frost slowly dissolves

an ember of love lends warms to the night.

Tender is her longings.



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