oskar hansen


oskar hansen Poems

361. Dream Rreality 4/24/2015
362. Dream Sequence 3/13/2012
363. Dream Woman 12/11/2013
364. Dreams And Florida Oranges 12/21/2009
365. Drones And Riots 8/21/2011
366. Drumbeat Of War 5/26/2009
367. Dry Months 5/5/2013
368. Dry River 8/23/2012
369. Dubai 6/2/2011
370. Earthquake 1/20/2010
371. Easter Reading 3/29/2013
372. Easter Remembered 5/13/2015
373. Eastertide 3/15/2013
374. Economics 11/1/2013
375. Ecuador 9/4/2013
376. Educated Stranger 7/20/2010
377. Edward Hopper...Painter 12/9/2014
378. Electrification 1/25/2015
379. Elegy 9/20/2013
380. Elvira The Almond Tree 3/12/2013
381. Emerald Isle 5/26/2011
382. Empires 8/18/2010
383. End Game 3/24/2011
384. End Of A Life 1/18/2011
385. End Of Austerity 10/18/2011
386. End Of Democracy 8/2/2015
387. End Of Line 7/13/2009
388. End Of Politics 5/27/2014
389. Endings 6/20/2013
390. Endless Is The Road 6/4/2015
391. English Rose 6/18/2010
392. Envy 6/2/2009
393. Epic Joureny 3/21/2011
394. Epigram 2/23/2009
395. Epigram 8/14/2012
396. Epigram 10 7/27/2013
397. Epigram 3 9/23/2013
398. Epigram 5 4/2/2012
399. Epigram 6 10/31/2013
400. Epigram And Sunryu 8/9/2012
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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