Oskar Hansen


Oskar Hansen Poems

1961. Vehicle Island 8/16/2016
1962. Verse 9/16/2014
1963. Verses 1/27/2015
1964. Video 8/11/2009
1965. Viking Thinking Of Sex 2/21/2016
1966. Vikings And Islam 5/27/2013
1967. Vilamoura (Portugal) 6/23/2011
1968. Violet 6/12/2014
1969. Vision 6/17/2013
1970. Visitor 4/16/2017
1971. Vita Contemplativa 8/9/2015
1972. Waffle Iron 10/7/2016
1973. Walls 8/28/2013
1974. Wandering Mind 7/31/2013
1975. War And Peace 5/19/2015
1976. War By Proxy 4/12/2011
1977. War Without Border 1/29/2014
1978. Warming Of Our Planet 9/14/2016
1979. Was It Arizona 5/9/2016
1980. Washing Machine 12/15/2014
1981. Washing Machine 1 12/15/2014
1982. Water Bill 8/21/2016
1983. Water Everywhere 3/18/2016
1984. Water Mermaids 5/3/2016
1985. Water Shortage 3/1/2013
1986. Waterloo 6/26/2015
1987. Waters Way 1/20/2015
1988. Watershed 7/15/2015
1989. Watery Tanka 3/4/2013
1990. We The Stupid 6/9/2016
1991. Weather Forecast 1/9/2014
1992. Wedding In Paris 5/28/2012
1993. Weekends 4/12/2017
1994. Welcome Onboard 10/27/2011
1995. Wentertainment 7/29/2009
1996. Western Movies 3/26/2016
1997. Whales 6/19/2012
1998. What Angles Know 6/3/2009
1999. What Heppened To Laughter? 10/14/2010
2000. What If... 3/25/2017
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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