Oskar Hansen


Oskar Hansen Poems

1761. The Vulgar And The Beautiful 1/8/2013
1762. The Wait 4/1/2014
1763. The Waiter 12/5/2016
1764. The Walk 12/14/2015
1765. The War Of Shame 4/14/2011
1766. The Way Of Tyrants 8/30/2011
1767. The Wests Fortune 11/30/2014
1768. The Whiteness Within Me. 11/20/2008
1769. The Will 9/12/2013
1770. The Windy City 3/20/2016
1771. The Witness 3/6/2013
1772. The Wonder Of Nature 9/24/2016
1773. The Writer 12/14/2014
1774. The Yard 1/21/2014
1775. The Zoo 2/11/2014
1776. They Are Coming To Take Your Away Aha 11/25/2016
1777. They Have Got Him Now 11/14/2013
1778. They Kill Horses Too 11/1/2016
1779. They Know Where You Live 6/22/2013
1780. Think 5 Haiku 11/29/2016
1781. Third Generation 6/5/2012
1782. Thirsty Cars 8/23/2011
1783. This Afternoon 1/20/2017
1784. This Day 5/26/2016
1785. This Land Of Mine 3/22/2012
1786. This Life Of Dreams 3/29/2016
1787. This Parrot 7/14/2014
1788. Thne Ascent 8/4/2010
1789. Thoughtless Day 8/20/2016
1790. Thoughts 2/3/2017
1791. Thoughts About Cars 3/10/2012
1792. Three New Haiku 1/16/2016
1793. Three New Senryu 5/30/2013
1794. Three New Senryu, I Think 9/22/2009
1795. Three Newest Haiku 12/7/2016
1796. Three Short Poems 12/25/2009
1797. Through The Keyhole Of Time 4/25/2013
1798. Thursday Afternoon 11/28/2015
1799. Thw Musical Lady 1/7/2012
1800. Thw~e Hidden 7/17/2012
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

Behind The Facade

Behind the Façade

Behind the Holyday Inn near the bus station used by
we the masses and immigrants, there are streets of houses
kept in the gloomy mode of semi-poverty and cheap wine.
I walked these streets windows shuttered, here and there
a small grocery shop run by Asians how they make a living
Is a wonder, cafes too I saw nearly went into one but it
looked so filthy I changed my mind, but did buy a can of

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