janoskarhanson

Web Hosting by Netfirms | Free Domain Names by Netfirms

Jan Oskar Hansen

The Flower Lady

A woman opened her umbrella made of dreams,
painted bluebells, buttercups tulips and roses.
Now her flowers needed sunlight and the sight of
A blue sky. She walked slowly with her eyes to
the ground looked for horse manure, which is not
easy to find in a time dominated by cars and motorbikes
Passed the railway she tripped on shoes not fit for
cobbled streets; trains stood idle, inhaled diesel fumes
despite the fact that the line had been electrified years
ago. Locomotive drivers on strike, sat in a café across
the road drank strong, black coffee and bore an expression
of steely determination and spoke with voices of stirred determination.
The
woman didn't find what she was
looking for, but the walk had done her flowers good
she left the umbrella in the chicken coop.

(lost love)

Golden droplets fell
Rained into your sweet garden
I collected metal.
Magic had touched your soul.
Rich at last I sold the gold.
Only to find you vanished.

Morning in a Park

Miserable morning,
a day held up by
scotch tape and
cardboard boxes.
Collapsed at noon
when rain muffled
sight and sound.
A horse blanket
hung so low that
it obscured
the park's treetops.
stood under one
of them in an
illusory attempt
to find shelter.
Then a cascade
of discord tore
the horse blanket
asunder and from
the good earth
the aroma of clover.

A woman's Tears

Her green eyeshade is moisture of
tears shed long ago when she was
young and in love, now she sat in
the foyer of her hotel like a fat
spider, unmoving but seeing and
hearing everything.

Dressed in black and in half-light
three diamonds glittered her eyes
and the engagement I gave her
thirty years ago, she was beautiful
then I loved her but she spurned me
when I didn't want to run her hotel.

Didn't want to be here where love
had died and only pot plants thrived,
but I needed a room, wrote my name
in a ledger paid in advance, went out
for a drink. The woman I had loved,
but for her eyes, never spoke a word.

Return to homepage

back to issue 7