Demise Of My Horses

Demise of My Horses

I had been away for a few days,
visiting the aunts of Cascais,
and found my three stone horses gone.
Just cheerless holes
where they had been tethered.
Widening the road, they said
and for that beauty must go.
When a road is enlarged more
cars will fill the space until
the bigger road is too small and
they decide to build a motorway.
The other side of the road will be
impossible to cross and neighbours
will become strangers.
Sun or rain endlessly stunning my horses were
before turned into grit.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Lamentable

Lamentable

Behind my cottage there was an olive grove
someone came knocked down the trees for
a better view, but it wasn’t true they built
four thousand dwellings instead and called
it a security zone. And then they built a wall
so I can’t see my lost olive grove.

The world agree with me this is all wrong,
but tells me I, for the sake of peace, must
understand and give way. I have understood
for sixty years and given way so many times,
and I know now I made a mistake to let their
cattle graze on our common land

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Oktober Fest

Høstlig Søndag

Evig regn melankolsk er Oktober og du vet
at sommer, sol og blå himmel var en dum
illusjon. Hannen galte ikke, og hundens ører
beveget seg ikke da en ukjent stemme sang
i smale gater, de skjønte jo at det var
undergangens stemme de hørte

Høst løv sammleren hadde ankommet med
sine krave og i følgene måneder de gamle
ville føle dødens kalde pust. Ikke så mange
tårer, ansikter i sort ramme, vi forstår så
godt når det ikke gjelder oss. Hannen kan
gale og hunden sove, dette angår dem ikke.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Reminder

A Message
Our old captain was pensioned off, he had been
the master on the same ship for ten years and at
sixty five he didn´t know where to go as his whole
life had been the sea. The first officer was taking
over. He had noticed the old man every morning
went on the bridge, opened a locked drawer and
read something from a folded piece of paper.
The first officer having sewed on an extra ring on
his uniform, now had four, was curious opened
the drawer. On the paper was written: starboard
is right and portside is left.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Love Letter Not Posted

Love Letter Not Posted.

I got a sweet email, yes romantic as well,
something about holding hands
and things that tend to follow a passionate kiss.
She had read my poems and thought I was
a darling! I thought of sending her a love poem
but desisted as my poems tend to be cynical;
beside there is a question of grooming.
Dear heart, thank you for the email, I shall not
answer you, but quietly dream of what could
could have been if I had been seventeen, and
not a grumpy old man who wears a winter coat
for comfort even in June.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Ageing

Ageing
I saw a picture of him in the newspaper the famous writer
at seventy two, and thought: my god, he looks old; yet I´m
older than him. He was going on about his illnesses like they
should be badges of honour. I look like him, but my mirror
says I look not a day over fifty two which is a blessing.
We are all narcissists at heart and stuck with an image of
ourselves that is untrue, but life cannot rob us of our delusion.
A warning though, do not smile to women who have not got
a wrinkle or two and need to dye their hair.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Love in the Afternoon

I wake up in the night our bed is an ocean I feel starkly alone
and reach out to feel your presence. An empty space, I panic
switch on the bedside light and call your name.

You have been to the loo, ok, tell me not to fuzz, lie down and
squeeze my hand. I switch off the bedside light and the night
continues as you gently snore, it is your silence I fear.

Dawn I wake up and count the beams on the bedroom ceiling,
eight it’s always eight. And it worries me if I should live longer
then you and only count seven bedroom beams

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Wedding In Paris

Wedding in Paris

Coming out of the church after the wedding there were
smiles and cameras clicked, from the steps I could look
down into a park, a tramp was going through a bin
looking for something to eat, he found and ate what looked
like a half eaten pizza. With all the clatter going on
I slipped away, had a whisky in a bar across the road,
saw the tramp coming out of the park, my idea was to give
him some money for food, but I was self-conscious and
hated the thought of looking patronizing so I had another
whisky instead.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Winter Memory

Enchanting Winter Memory

The day is lead dark and heavy, TV tells me of unwanted snow,
planes cannot take off or land.
There wasn’t much snow on the flatland of western Norway,
but it was cold, lakes and ponds froze and a bitter wind blew.
I skated round and around till I was inside a white vortex and
the world a blur, I heard nothing alone in the magic stillness
of my breath, now I was free and could fly.
Suddenly the wonder ended, I fell on hard unyielding ice, back
on earth I heard the farmer calling me… milking time.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Verse For You

The verse I wrote last night
Is the same I wrote this morning
About my love for you
Rainy days are your tears
Sunshine is your brilliant smile
Everything I see of nature
Reminds me of you
Primrose and roses I can’t escape
The meadow where horses graze
And the morning mist
And the clearing in the woods
Where rabbits frolic
And in the undergrowth so full of
Juicy mushrooms.
And the all seeing eagle flying high.
They are all you my beloved
And your name is … hang on a bit
In all my lyrical prose
I have forgotten your name.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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