..................................................................................................
The Poetry Of...
Jan Oskar Hansen..........................................
Sonnet to a Boulder.
This big boulder in the middle of the field,
puzzles me, why is it there on its own and
not with its brother further down the vale?
It must be a sandstone has many holes, but
No mice live there, I thought it would have
been perfect home for furry creatures, but
crossing the field, too fraught; beady eyes
and wings everywhere, not missing a thing.
Guess time isn't important for a boulder it's
summer now and it is hot to the touch but
there will be no rain before October, a few
months is no more than waiting for a train
that's five minutes late. It has nothing to say,
but it does whistle when the wind blows.
Misty Beginning.
White mist this morning,
tastes of the ocean
it's a good moment to be outside,
the world is at ease, no jet-planes streak
across the sky no ominous clatter of
helicopter gun-ships;
Children of Palestine can sleep
in peace, for now.
The mist's lifting I can see houses,
they lean on each other, still shuttered
and asleep.
It's clear day now I hear rattle as
a red-cross helicopter crosses
the blue sky its rotor churns sunlight
around, hope the patient makes it.
The Lonely Heart.
Ten years now, since they gave me her heart,
eighteen, so very young, had she been free she
would have been married, one or two children,
a mortgaged home (a husband too) not a caged
bride in the cavity an old man's chest.
Been thinking of her often lately, fallen in love
with her and that is a foolish thing to do, she
urgently wants to leave; blue lights and sirens,
if the doctors can sway her to stay a bit longer
I'll let her dream her own dreams.
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