End Of A Life
The End of a Life
There were many flowers on her grave
from family, friends and foes.
they feared her lashing tongue.
The evening and night were cold,
in the morning the flowers looked
white and bloodless.
Why does it has to end like this
In utter silence it is as she had never lived.
The morning traffic is heavy
Friday, the week is coming to an end
and no one will ever know her wisdom,
the suffering she had endured.
And if remembered, she was the old woman
who spoke the truth
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poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Space
The Space
Silence is not totally quiet it has an Om
A chant of the everlasting and soothes a restive heart.
I used to be a warrior a hero of every war fought,
Now I hear the Om and see moss on stones.
On a painting I saw time’s little sister she shimmered
Above ground and is the air I breathe.
What was important is now hollow only beauty prevails.
The everlasting is all around me as I walk on a lane of
sea sand and crushed shells, time’s little sister smiles,
tells me nothingness is the highest prize.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Mantree
Man & Tree.
There was a spruce tree in the forest, he had
watched it grow from spindly sampling to
a handsome young tree, and thought of it as
the son he never had.
But shortly before Christmas it disappeared
he went to the market in town where they sold
hundreds of trees for those who want the real
thing, but couldn’t find it there.
After the festivities he found his tree on a dump,
green needles gone, now it was brown, he took
the dead plant home and used as kindling to lit
the fire on cold, soggy days.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Marina Sunday
Sunday at the Marina
Water in the marina, clear as diesel
fish swimming close to surface
in peace of seagulls,
which know they stink of human
waste.
This is not the fish that
will feed the five thousand.
A child strews bread crumbs into the water,
ignored by the fishes.
Seagulls' shrieks and fall from the sky.
A man drops a glass of gin & tonic, on
the deck of yacht,
claws at his chest.
Ambulance and a nervous doctor
tells him not to smoke cigars
too late.
Young widow,
I hope she sells the bloody yacht.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Summer
Remembering a Summer
In the backyard of the house that had never
been painted and had so many people living
inside that it looked like it was ready to burst,
the sun flooded- high summer- as bluebottles
circled the rubbish bin where a big rat sat and
catlike cleaned its face using a piece of broken
glass as a mirror. I patted the rodent on its head
it smiled showing healthy teeth and sank them
into my hand before running down a hole.
My dad used the last of his whisky to clean
The wound, mother was glad for that.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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New Beginning
New beginning
Her kiss tasted of iron railing a frost bitten dawn…. My lips bled.
Her eyes were frozen stars in a deadly
galaxy of tranquillity.
A beauty flawless. Her body…unbending, unwilling, an ice maiden in a winter forest.
Her blue lips had spots of cardinal crystal, futile my attempt of resurrection.
My love I laid by her feet, struck a match in the vast night of silence
Ash and ember …I’m free.
In the glade, amongst roses of gold,
my new love waited…hand in hand
we walked to where the day begins
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Vanished
The Vanished
It was not a forest more like a few forgotten trees
by the road, they stood close together as seeking
protection from vandals. Inside the day was dark
and I heard twigs breaking off, but saw no birds or
squirrels. Perhaps it was the spirits of the people
who had lived here but had died out as the forest
gave way to farm land and was reduced to dismal
woods of evergreens that was helpless against
agricultural progress. A way of life, beyond repair,
as a dead language that is but whisper in the wind.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fireflies Of Love
Fireflies of Love.
Summer by the river of temptation,
vinyl records and turntable gramophone
songs about love and longings.
Naive lyric, but for our young hearts it
had a deep meaning.
Passion like fireflies filled the air, the aroma
of grass and the scent of green leaves,
enchantment and adoration.
Nothing is like first love, alas it never lasts
and like fireflies, disappear at first light.
Liver spotted hands turn the pages of memories,
shiny leaves of youth clear as the river and
undimmed by middle-aged cynicism.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Saddam's Legacy
Saddam’s Legacy
A million Christians
Lived in Saddam Hussein’s Iraq
Now they have left
Save for a few hundred souls
Yet their plight goes unheard
Heed the echo
Of the loser of you war games
Christians yet Arabs
Fleeing the land of their heart
Unprotected and betrayed
This useless war
Fought for vain glory by us
Have we lost honor
Wallowing in extreme hubris
Future generation will pay the prize
Saddam Hussein
Was a bulwark against extremists
We hung him
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poem by Oskar Hansen
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Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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