Jan Oskar Hansen Poems

Not A Sonnet
When I was a child I used in winters when windows had frost on
the inside too, paint picture of faces that slowly thawed as
the morning progress to noon. Moody drawings and after some time
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The Beer Drinker
Seven, the shop in the village closes at eight, something my wife
needed...so ok. I took the narrow road the one that has trees on
both sides it is a bit longer and I did not have to do this but I had
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Porto

I have lived in Algarve for many years, yes plenty of sunshine
but its people have an African conception of time,
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Haifa Oranges

The sky is light blue or pallid
It is late afternoon
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Retired Sea Master.
Brilliant sun, cold wind from the Atlantic I’m standing outside
the hotel by the car while my wife is arguing with the staff,
apparently we had been overcharged but I had already paid
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To see or not to see

To know what you know
Needs no deep reflection as it is evident
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Instant Memory

It was my intention to go home had seen
A picture of the harbour of my town when the sea
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To prefer life

Late at night I saw the coastline of Panama, valium and alcohol and since
the night was as a cosy blanket while stars shone with an angelic fervour.
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The Dignified Doorman

In the thirties when fish factories in my town closed, the sardines
didn’t swim near shore, they swam further into deep the ocean.
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The common soldier
Once motherland I remember well often with a patina
of unbecoming sentimentality. I was born there, once
birthplace is a magnet it never loses its charismatic power
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