The Poetry Of.
Jan Oskar Hansen...........................
Broken Dreams
The gilded cage where two yellow canary birds
used to live is thrown into the garden, rusting in
the rain, perch broken, cell door, wide open.
For a moment the pair had tasted independence,
sat on the branch of a tall tree in total peace, till
the hawk swooped, blood on cedar leaves.
The mighty hawk, friend of an eagle, will not
share an inch of the tree that it had taken by force
and now claims as a property for hawks only.
The Missing.
You had the toothpaste; I, the brush,
but that was before trench warfare,
when I thought the world was small.
I learned to fly and I have flown over
Every ridge, mountain, stream and sea,
a master pilot ten golden rings, yet it
doesn't mean a thing, it's your fingers
caressing my face that I long for
Soul's Window.
The damp greenness of Bissau always
looks like it is going to reclaim land
occupied by man;
in a clapperboard hospital,
wide eyed women are giving birth,
submissive victims of ignorance
and men, wonder if the TV crew asked
permission to film them?
There is also a leper colony amputees,
hold up fingerless hands and toeless feet,
they smile to the camera grateful for
some attention;
the film crew will give the coppers and
fleeting sympathy, the luxuriance will
close and we forget. except for eyes,
quietly observing us.
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