Treasure Island

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  • Jan Oskar Hansen (1/29/2007 1:08:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    The Writer.

    Dreamed of Hemingway,
    out hunting gazelles;
    he shot one and bragged
    shamelessly about it when
    sitting by the fireside
    drinking gin.

    But I heard him late at night
    in his tent …crying, he had
    created monster image of
    himself, the tough guy, he
    couldn’t escape.

    Mind, he did in the end,
    his brain splattered
    on wallpaper, an abstract
    pattern of dead thoughts.
    and the unsaid.

    Replies for this message:
    • A Zeitgeber (2/13/2007 6:27:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      That is excellent Jan, I often sit and think about hemmingway and his meticulous records of how many animals he had hunted and killed. Total was 5,000.

  • Jan Oskar Hansen (1/29/2007 1:07:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    The Hunting Party

    When hunters have been, in my valley on
    Sundays, they lay out birds and rabbits in
    a row and talk excitedly about the day’s
    kill before dividing the booty...

    NATO troops kill 55 five Taliban
    The TV, news says,

    Corpses are trucked in from near and afar,
    laid in a row for the press to count the dead;
    fleshy, white skinned Danish officers give
    orders to scrawny Afghans in new uniforms,

    A wall of smiles and elastic loyalty between
    them that makes sense; armies come and go,
    but the Afghans will always remain here in
    this mystic, untamed and sand-coloured land

    Replies for this message:
  • Wes Thompson (1/22/2007 10:36:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    she calls me
    late at
    we talk in absolutes
    as if forever
    really did last
    she says that
    i am
    and whatever it is
    inside of me
    (some say it feels like butterflies,
    but i don't believe so)
    that she invokes
    feels like
    it's ripping my
    to shreds
    happy shreds

  • Helen Cham (1/22/2007 12:03:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Without wings, we're just humans
    No matter how hard we try,
    we're no innocents
    High above the clouds we once were
    Rejoicing with our endless love
    One single slip between the clouds,
    we fell from the highest place,

    As we fall through the horizon, we lose our wings
    Now that we've hit the ground
    In ways we do not desire
    we became those who roam the earth
    searching for our long lost wings.

    (please comment and read my other poems =D thanks!)

  • Jan Oskar Hansen (1/14/2007 2:47:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage


    A smile from you
    Erases the cosmic loneliness
    Of icy stars

    Replies for this message:
  • Jan Oskar Hansen (1/14/2007 2:46:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    At the End of Time.

    When the clock struck nine a Swiss cuckoo
    came out, flew onto the roof where it laid
    eggs in a sparrow’s nest, under the tiles.
    It came back with all the haste of a delayed
    rocket, broke the window collided brutally
    with the clock that fell off the wall and into
    the soup. Digits floated around in infinite
    variation, but when the soup had settled it
    was midnight I could see 2007, ate the two
    zeroes but, it didn’t make much difference,
    fireworks soared in the sky scared dogs and
    shell shocked war veterans who didn’t get
    sympathy from those who had never heard
    the deadly whine of hot iron searing air

  • David Taylor (1/11/2007 4:05:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies Stage

    The Fireplace

    A silent gathering around,
    at the end of a long journey of exertions all expired.
    All present share equally
    the crackling explosions of wakefulness,
    that emanate from the heat
    of libations offered.

    All present and present All.
    No words to break the unitary silence.
    Such a large room fully lit by just one light.
    A completeness in a stilling state,
    It is an invocation for us all.
    To come home.

    Replies for this message:
    • Kristina Dee (9/16/2013 11:33:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      this makes me think of Christmas :)

    • Alicia Patti (1/20/2007 8:53:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      Your poem makes me want to purchase a fireplace. I especially like: 'Such a large room fully lit by just one light. A completeness in a stilling state' I am warmed to my fingertips with this one. ... more

  • Jan Oskar Hansen (1/9/2007 10:22:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    The Proposal

    We sat in a yellow cab when I gave her
    an engagement ring and asked her to
    marry me; she said no, and I threw
    the ring out of window. The cab howled
    to a halt, driver got out found the ring,
    which he accepted as payment when we
    reached our destination. Met him years
    later now a happily married man thanks
    to my ring. The woman who refused my
    offer is married too, but not to me.
    I spend most of my time driving around
    New York looking for something I once
    dreamed about, but lost in 42nd street, or
    was it in 43rd street?

    glad for any comments

  • Karima Astrid P (1/9/2007 5:32:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    hey i am looking for somebody who can give comments to my poems
    and give me suggestions


  • Leilani Leilani (12/21/2006 9:27:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    Hi i am looking for anybody who would like to look at my poems to give me advice and critique them alittle because I am not to expirienced in writing I am still in high school but it is what I love to do and I am always looking for ways to improve.

    Replies for this message:
    • Aldo Kraas (2/10/2007 8:41:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      Hy leilani I been writing poetry now for 11 years Don't bother with poems that rhimes They are very stresfull The poems that Are Haiku I hate The poems that are a sonnet are very good You can go ... more

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