oskar hansen


oskar hansen Poems

361. Epigram 2/23/2009
362. Epigram 8/14/2012
363. Epigram 10 7/27/2013
364. Epigram 3 9/23/2013
365. Epigram 5 4/2/2012
366. Epigram 6 10/31/2013
367. Epigram And Sunryu 8/9/2012
368. Epiphany 12/20/2010
369. Equine And May 5/30/2011
370. Equines 10/16/2014
371. Erection 8/19/2009
372. Escapees 2/7/2013
373. Eternal Screen 6/25/2009
374. Europe's Problem 12/23/2010
375. Evenhere, In My Valley 12/2/2008
376. Evening In Paradise 6/12/2012
377. Everyday Life And Chocolate 9/3/2010
378. Execution 7/29/2009
379. Exile 2/10/2010
380. Exploitation Of A Name 12/18/2013
381. Extraterrestrials? 10/10/2012
382. Factrory Food 9/3/2012
383. Fado 4/17/2012
384. Fado Singer 7/22/2010
385. Failed Musician 6/22/2009
386. False Spring 9/18/2012
387. Family Affairs 11/26/2011
388. Family Drama 1/25/2011
389. Family Man 7/16/2012
390. Family Tanka 7/19/2011
391. Family Visit 12/26/2014
392. Famous Tv Station 3/12/2012
393. Farewell Marilyn 8/25/2011
394. Fear Of Flying 9/23/2010
395. Fear Of Flying Someday 12/6/2012
396. Fidel Castro 3/28/2015
397. Fight For Freedom 10/13/2011
398. Final Reckoning 3/3/2009
399. Financial Crisis 11/22/2010
400. Fireflies Of Love 5/20/2011
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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