Oskar Hansen


Oskar Hansen Poems

1. Shipping As It Was -new- 9/29/2016
2. Nature 5/11/2016
3. Sebastopol 5/12/2016
4. The Escapees 5/13/2016
5. Blood On The Carpet 5/13/2016
6. The Clowns 5/14/2016
7. Clowning 5/14/2016
8. A Fairy Tale 2 7/3/2016
9. Oslo Sonnet 2 7/4/2016
10. Oslo Sonnet 3 7/4/2016
11. Oslo Sonnet 7/5/2016
12. A Lizard Sonnet 7/5/2016
13. Nepal2 7/6/2016
14. To Love The Self 7/7/2016
15. Horse And Ale 7/8/2016
16. Mystery Tour 12/21/2015
17. Geography And Racism 12/22/2015
18. Yule Tide Again 12/23/2015
19. A Question 12/24/2015
20. Christmas And Ex. Drinker 12/25/2015
21. Epigram 56 12/26/2015
22. The Escape From Finland 12/27/2015
23. A Brother Never Met 12/27/2015
24. The Caliphate 12/28/2015
25. No Longer Silent 12/28/2015
26. New, New Haiku 12/29/2015
27. The Kiss 12/29/2015
28. The Oasis 1/3/2016
29. Tango 1/4/2016
30. When The Dead Awakens 1/5/2016
31. Desire 1/6/2016
32. The Hidden Kiss 1/7/2016
33. Love Bug 8/18/2016
34. Unwanted 8/19/2016
35. Thoughtless Day 8/20/2016
36. Water Bill 8/21/2016
37. Beware Of Poets 8/24/2016
38. At The Meeting 8/25/2016
39. The Painting 8/26/2016
40. Pledge 8/26/2016
Best Poem of Oskar Hansen

...And It Was Her Summer

…And It Was Her Summer


“Go back to the children’s home, she said I have no work and
can’t afford to keep you” Late June afternoon she sat on a bench
with a man I didn’t know. The man smiled I didn’t like him, but
took the coins he gave me to buy an ice –cream for; I was still
hanging about so mother got up and slapped me across the face.
”Get lost you stupid boy! ” My face was burning I threw the coins
into the lake and ran away. When I stopped running it was night
and I could see sheep in a field, I was tired and cold, thought of
seeking shelter in a...

Read the full of ...And It Was Her Summer

Lady And The Tramp

The Lady and the Tramp

I took the bus from Ellesmere Port to Birkenhead,
from there the underground to Liverpool, walked
to Hanover Street; took a rickety lift up four floors
to a studio where Miss Summers tried to teach me
to speak posh English. A hopeless task my Norse
accent refused to be relegated clung to my throat
like phlegm, the size of a jelly fish, and anyway,

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