Smoke Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Smoke

From the Saga Island smoke rose. flames and rivers ran full of
icy water; the modern Vikings had been beaten and shamed.
Cold winter, summer roses are grey and leaves on trees have
taken on an autumnal hue. Clouds of ashes drifting south day
is night the world has lost it colour and cinemas only show
black& white movies.

East the smoke is black and smells of cordite and bulldozed
buildings. Poor Palestine it is not a state, but a dream, which
trashed people try to make into a reality. Moslems, Christians
and righteous Jews, the world belongs to us, to have peace
there must be fairness. Oops! Before my eyes another house is
razed to the ground, dust is blinding me.