Making Of Stars
The Making of Stars.
Long time ago before stars appeared,
nights were as black as standing inside
a mist of ink ejected by an octopus.
When stone-age man found how to lit
a fire, sparks flew up and slowly
the night sky had what we call stars.
When a star or spark dies a new one
will appear if not as many as before
now that we have electric light.
In Kalahari a tribe sits by the fireside
sparks fly upwards, they see to it we
always have stars on the night sky.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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October
The tenth month
October has psychological problem as it doesn´t
belongs anywhere, nor summer or winter? That
is why it gets hot at noon and cold in the evening
having read bad reviews all day long,
October has an inferiority complex doesn´t accept
critics, sees it as a personal attack and then it gets
resentful send bucket full of rains on foe and friends
alike. But October has a soft inner heart, sentimental
too, so speak softly to it and it will be your friend.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Tour de France
On my training bike, in the back yard, I won Tour de France,
it only took half an hour. In Paris they gave me red wine,
a medal and my picture in Le Monde. Then I lost it a blood
test showed I was taking Lasix 40. Again my face appeared
in the papers, with the caption: “A cheat.” Me who had to go
off my bike twice for a pee. I can live with public disgrace for
I know in my heart I won the race; and as the song says:
“no, no they can’t take that away from me.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Terror in Mumbai
Terror in Mumbai
The face of a young terrorist caught on
camera, flushed look and his eyes shine
with the ecstasy of total power, the one
who decides who’s to live or die.
This is his moment what he has been
dreaming of so long, the cause for his
war means nothing now that life surges
through every sinew of his body.
Should he survive, his days will be flat
and endlessly grey till he gets a change
again to easily kill and feel the ecstasy
of absolute supremacy.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Drones And Riots
Just a Thought (drones and riots)
In Waziristan, a tiny Pakistani town, a drone hit its target.
The collateral damage... several children killed.
This incident happened about the same time as riot struck
London after an armed loser was shot by the police.
A few building were torched and many shops were looted
and trivial items like trainers and TV were stolen.
In Waziristan the drone was dropped by murderous fools
the riot in London was done by the hopelessly inadequate.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Galaxy
The Galaxy
On the terrace in the sun I closed my eyes
and saw coloured light dancing under my
eyelids like a galaxy that only existed inside
of me… or is the real galaxy an illusion.
Scientists watch stars in their great telescope
but only see what is in their heads…
And we agree because we too only see what
is in our own mind. Ruby stars and pink moons
and the dream of immortality that our souls
fly to a mysterious planet like our own where
death has been vanquished.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Keeper Of The Peace
The Keeper of the Peace
Behind high walls cypresses’ stand dignified and tall,
the iron-gate leading, in to a silent Paradise, is open
white marble and names in golden letters.
In here traffic noise dies down, a perfect spring day
comes to an end. I feel at ease here, have no regrets,
this place will one day be my home.
The gardener smokes a cigarette, fine Turkish blend,
tickles my nose, wish I could smoke too. With a big
key he locks up and wishes me safe journey.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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White Horse
The White Mare
the incoming tide made an island out of
the sand bank where I sat, king for a day,
made a crown of coarse grass
but since I only ruled over a few crabs, who
bit my finger when I shook their claws, I
renounced my crown and swam ashore.
Sanitation workers, in blue overalls and
logo, heckled me since I was not like them
and they made fun of my crown.
On an incoming wave a white mare came,
bareback I mounted and gently the horse
trotted amongst the awestruck workers
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Freedom Curtailed
Freedom for some
Seagulls fill the air with joy
anchored sailboats tug want to be free
sail around the world alone,
just as a Japanese fishing vessel did
ending up on the shores of Canada.
Alas, caught by the coast guard as it
prepared to sail for Chile and Peru.
Anchored in a lonely bay
waiting for its captain to catch up.
This slavery of navigation, yet it
had a year of freedom.
Seagulls fly, sleek bodies white as snow,
a storm is brewing
and the ocean is theirs alone.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Lost Love
On TV, the weather women I secretly love,
said it was 22 degree Celsius outside and
a beautiful evening. She smiled and winked,
knew I was admiring her.
She left and gave room to world news read
by a man in suit and tie; he read about
disheartening news and an Arab spring that
is turning into a military dictatorship
The weather woman walked home, turned
on the TV and tried to see me, but I was on
the terrace watching the stars and I had, in
my distraction, forgotten her.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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