Oskar Hansen


Oskar Hansen Poems

161. After Coronel Kaddafi 3/24/2011
162. After Ingmar Bergman 2/11/2015
163. After Rain 1/14/2011
164. After The Concert 1/14/2016
165. After The Revolt 2/28/2011
166. After The Wedding 11/4/2008
167. After Us 10/10/2013
168. Afternoon Doze 6/23/2013
169. Age 9/9/2014
170. Ageing 6/28/2012
171. Ageless Beauty 9/10/2009
172. Agents Abroad 4/16/2012
173. Aghast 12/15/2011
174. Agoraphobia 10/15/2013
175. Air Travel In A Dakota 7/28/2010
176. Alcohol Warning 3/20/2013
177. Aliens 3/22/2011
178. All Souls Day 12/1/2011
179. Alone At The Seaside 10/16/2012
180. Ambling About 1/5/2015
181. America The Beautiful 9/18/2014
182. Amputation 4/7/2016
183. An African Queen 1/30/2016
184. An Alternative View Of Iran 11/1/2013
185. An Angel 6/9/2012
186. An Echo From The Sea 7/1/2014
187. An Elderly Dog 11/29/2010
188. An Emigre 8/16/2011
189. Ancient Hamlet 10/12/2013
190. And More Haiku 6/2/2014
191. And This Is Not A Poem 2/7/2013
192. Angela Merkel 7/20/2015
193. Angela Merkel No One 7/20/2015
194. Angels Too 3/4/2009
195. Angola The African Dream 3/5/2010
196. Animal Pictures 6/7/2012
197. Animal Senryu 3/16/2011
198. Animals And Madness 5/27/2015
199. Anniversary 10/5/2012
200. Another Friendly Poem 1/10/2013
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

I`m So Tired

Oh, I'm so tired it is hurting me
endless wars and commentators commenting
along the line of their conviction or
the think-tank that pays them.
I long for the autumn colours north of Portugal
a place to heal abused body and
a soul full of distress
I will go for a week or two, drive there myself
and stop when it pleases me.

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