The Poetry Of...
Jan Oskar Hansen................................................
In the noon time.
When the clock struck noon it fell off the wall
broken glass on the kitchen floor, but it kept on
ticking as a lone dog barked to test the silence.
The sky sank slowly towards earth in an attempt
to embrace it once again, theirs a long romance
now, at last, coming to fruition. It got hot steam
rose from lakes and everywhere salt statues, of
those not willing to accept orders without making
sure that a superpower had nuked a small nation
in the Middle East and calling this homicidal act:
"Self defense" When the clock struck again, this
time face down, on the floor, it did so in a pool of
oil and it was fifteen minutes past one.
When Souls Die
It's all in the translation to find the beginning
the well wench flow of words began, to give
a soul to past songs the fleeting called love
who if it hadn't been for our need beauty would
have had a simpler name an everyday action
caused by the instinct of being a part of a future
a human's miserable hope of eternity.
The green gecko song which promise of beauty
over destruction is an echo in our loin we in
vain intellectualize into religion or romance as
souls shimmer over water and will not be caught.
in a web of blood, sinew and nerves.
Summer's Lost
When the afternoon
swims in its own cooling
shadow and
September is wrapped
in a hot blanket and
the agony of a telephone pole,
left alone in a field,
crackles down the line
Haiku
A blue crystal vase
Reflects dawns fragile light
And makes it sing.
On the hall's wall
A gilded mirror waits
To be made alive
Tangible silence
Deepens by a ticking clock
And sigh after tears.
A child's picture
Will one day be smiled at
By its elderly self.
