The Day Of reckoning
It rained when I went ashore, miserable, grey drizzle
lasting for days making people indoor pale and righteous.
Met a woman in a pub, she had a tarts fallen face, which
made her interesting, most of her had fallen too, but
dressed in black she looked ok and she lived just around
the corner… In her cups she was frivolous and we did
things I had only read about in books, thought she was
wonderful asked her to marry me. It was afternoon, next
day and still drizzly, when I went down to the docks, my
ship had left, my suitcase packed, just as well the thought
of sailing on a winter ocean in the company of gossiping
Norwegian seafarers and their narrow minded ship world,
was a sacrifice I needn’t carry.. Pessimistically sober now
I winced at the thought of going back to the quiche in black,
booked into a hotel and went to bed with a bottle of rum
Thursday, November 30, 2006
cremation
Cremation
Mother had a picture, in a golden frame,
on the wall, of a boy in his coffin, tried not
to look but my eyes strayed and the boy’s
stillness frightened me.
Yet, she refused to take it down: “It’s good
for us to be reminded of our mortality,” she
said, young then and death was something
that happened to other people.
Years passed, the picture still hung there,
if forgotten, till cancer snatched my brother,
then she took the picture down and burnt it,
but sensible kept the frame
Mother had a picture, in a golden frame,
on the wall, of a boy in his coffin, tried not
to look but my eyes strayed and the boy’s
stillness frightened me.
Yet, she refused to take it down: “It’s good
for us to be reminded of our mortality,” she
said, young then and death was something
that happened to other people.
Years passed, the picture still hung there,
if forgotten, till cancer snatched my brother,
then she took the picture down and burnt it,
but sensible kept the frame
Sonnet to Equality.
Four chairs around the kitchen table, no space
for the fifth chair though, it was put in a corner
with a rubber plant on its seat. First it looked
embarrassed, then got mad, would, if it could,
thrown the plant through the closed window;
then it got so depressed that it nearly collapsed
into pieces of planed sticks of wood, something
had to give; “A week each in the corner” I told
the other four, they demurred, but relented,
since we do still live in a democratic society.
A timbered whisper: “What about you?. When
are you going stand in the corner with a pot plant
in your arms.” With great stateliness I rose from
the chair and said :“I’m the one who sits on you.”
Four chairs around the kitchen table, no space
for the fifth chair though, it was put in a corner
with a rubber plant on its seat. First it looked
embarrassed, then got mad, would, if it could,
thrown the plant through the closed window;
then it got so depressed that it nearly collapsed
into pieces of planed sticks of wood, something
had to give; “A week each in the corner” I told
the other four, they demurred, but relented,
since we do still live in a democratic society.
A timbered whisper: “What about you?. When
are you going stand in the corner with a pot plant
in your arms.” With great stateliness I rose from
the chair and said :“I’m the one who sits on you.”
Senryu, Haiku and Zen
Senryu
Siege,
Hospital Surrounded by
Undertakers.
Doctors’ surgery
Full of unspoken worries
Telling silence.
Haiku.
When sun left
Ice roses appeared
On windows.
Zen
Dawn
Frost kills twigs
Cold sun
Morning
Sunrays kill
Dew
Siege,
Hospital Surrounded by
Undertakers.
Doctors’ surgery
Full of unspoken worries
Telling silence.
Haiku.
When sun left
Ice roses appeared
On windows.
Zen
Dawn
Frost kills twigs
Cold sun
Morning
Sunrays kill
Dew
freedom
Freedom
Dizzily happy, the two escaped canary bird,
sitting lackadaisical on an olive twig, bright
as lemons, picking insects from its branches.
enjoying the inner glow independence gives,
when a hawk swooped grabbed one of them.
The other one flew back to find the safety
of its cage, but the window was closed, if
sat on the ledge thrilling the sweetest tones
and gladdened the heart of neighbours and
killer cats alike, till the hawk returned
Dizzily happy, the two escaped canary bird,
sitting lackadaisical on an olive twig, bright
as lemons, picking insects from its branches.
enjoying the inner glow independence gives,
when a hawk swooped grabbed one of them.
The other one flew back to find the safety
of its cage, but the window was closed, if
sat on the ledge thrilling the sweetest tones
and gladdened the heart of neighbours and
killer cats alike, till the hawk returned
sonnet to mother raindrop
Sonnet to Mother Raindrop.
She didn’t want the lunch I had prepared,
on a diet, unhappy with her body, but ate
half of a sugar melon to keep me company.
Wish she hadn’t, could not stop talking about
her discontent as I tried to enjoy my lunch of
cauliflower with cheese sauce, baked potatoes
and Roquefort on celery stick, gone vegetarian
just to please her. Later, alone on the terrace,
seeing to my rosebush, it needed compost and
water; looked up and saw a gigantic sapphire,
raindrop falling. It hit the terrace burst open,
gave birth to millions of smaller once. Ladled
them up, fed them to the rosebush, it blushed.
grew quickly and produced maroon flowers.
She didn’t want the lunch I had prepared,
on a diet, unhappy with her body, but ate
half of a sugar melon to keep me company.
Wish she hadn’t, could not stop talking about
her discontent as I tried to enjoy my lunch of
cauliflower with cheese sauce, baked potatoes
and Roquefort on celery stick, gone vegetarian
just to please her. Later, alone on the terrace,
seeing to my rosebush, it needed compost and
water; looked up and saw a gigantic sapphire,
raindrop falling. It hit the terrace burst open,
gave birth to millions of smaller once. Ladled
them up, fed them to the rosebush, it blushed.
grew quickly and produced maroon flowers.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Godwill season
Goodwill Season
Early winter,
frost on windows
living room cold,
too early to lit the fire,
put an extra jumper on
she says.
She’s baking cakes
for Christmas and
preparing food stuff,
famed for her festive
generosity
X. mass day, lit fire
warm rooms cakes &
Ale…the lot;
lovely couple, it’s said,
devoted to each other.
Early winter,
frost on windows
living room cold,
too early to lit the fire,
put an extra jumper on
she says.
She’s baking cakes
for Christmas and
preparing food stuff,
famed for her festive
generosity
X. mass day, lit fire
warm rooms cakes &
Ale…the lot;
lovely couple, it’s said,
devoted to each other.
Senryu, Haiku and Zen
Senryu
Siege,
Hospital Surrounded by
Undertakers.
Doctors’ surgery
Full of unspoken worries
Telling silence.
Haiku.
When sun left
Ice roses appeared
On windows.
Zen
Dawn
Frost kills twigs
Cold sun
Morning
Sunrays kill
Dew
Siege,
Hospital Surrounded by
Undertakers.
Doctors’ surgery
Full of unspoken worries
Telling silence.
Haiku.
When sun left
Ice roses appeared
On windows.
Zen
Dawn
Frost kills twigs
Cold sun
Morning
Sunrays kill
Dew
Freedom
Freedom
Dizzily happy, the two escaped canary bird,
sitting lackadaisical on an olive twig, bright
as lemons, picking insects from its branches.
enjoying the inner glow independence gives,
when a hawk swooped grabbed one of them.
The other one flew back to find the safety
of its cage, but the window was closed, if
sat on the ledge thrilling the sweetest tones
and gladdened the heart of neighbours and
killer cats alike, till the hawk returned
Dizzily happy, the two escaped canary bird,
sitting lackadaisical on an olive twig, bright
as lemons, picking insects from its branches.
enjoying the inner glow independence gives,
when a hawk swooped grabbed one of them.
The other one flew back to find the safety
of its cage, but the window was closed, if
sat on the ledge thrilling the sweetest tones
and gladdened the heart of neighbours and
killer cats alike, till the hawk returned
sonnet to mother raindrop
Sonnet to Mother Raindrop.
She didn’t want the lunch I had prepared,
on a diet, unhappy with her body, but ate
half of a sugar melon to keep me company.
Wish she hadn’t, could not stop talking about
her discontent as I tried to enjoy my lunch of
cauliflower with cheese sauce, baked potatoes
and Roquefort on celery stick, gone vegetarian
just to please her. Later, alone on the terrace,
seeing to my rosebush, it needed compost and
water; looked up and saw a gigantic sapphire,
raindrop falling. It hit the terrace burst open,
gave birth to millions of smaller once. Ladled
them up, fed them to the rosebush, it blushed.
grew quickly and produced maroon flowers.
She didn’t want the lunch I had prepared,
on a diet, unhappy with her body, but ate
half of a sugar melon to keep me company.
Wish she hadn’t, could not stop talking about
her discontent as I tried to enjoy my lunch of
cauliflower with cheese sauce, baked potatoes
and Roquefort on celery stick, gone vegetarian
just to please her. Later, alone on the terrace,
seeing to my rosebush, it needed compost and
water; looked up and saw a gigantic sapphire,
raindrop falling. It hit the terrace burst open,
gave birth to millions of smaller once. Ladled
them up, fed them to the rosebush, it blushed.
grew quickly and produced maroon flowers.
The tribe
The Tribe. .
Under canvas in the rain, their horses tethered
safely beneath the thick branches of carob trees;
difficult days for the Roma tribe who wander
their way deep in the landscape, but at the outer
edges of our regimented, intolerant society.
When the weather clears and they’ll ramble
again there will be rubble on the ground they
briefly occupied and the locals will complain:
“those dirty people they have no respect for
other peoples property, see this mess
White bellies of dead fish in rivers and lakes
float down to an lifeless ocean, greenhouse
gases, trading in emissions, more hurricanes,
floods and needless wars, but the Roma people
treks on, oblivious to our plight
Under canvas in the rain, their horses tethered
safely beneath the thick branches of carob trees;
difficult days for the Roma tribe who wander
their way deep in the landscape, but at the outer
edges of our regimented, intolerant society.
When the weather clears and they’ll ramble
again there will be rubble on the ground they
briefly occupied and the locals will complain:
“those dirty people they have no respect for
other peoples property, see this mess
White bellies of dead fish in rivers and lakes
float down to an lifeless ocean, greenhouse
gases, trading in emissions, more hurricanes,
floods and needless wars, but the Roma people
treks on, oblivious to our plight
autumnal dance
Autumnal Dance
Leaves, in the square, twirl with dust and
paper napkins smeared with ruby lipstick;
from corner to corner reel, stop when wind
drops, gossip, wait and whirl again, shun
the square’s middle ground, though.
Those caught there are blown over houses
an into a blueberry haze; but as wind tires
and depart they are huddled behind a bin,
declaring undying love to life and beauty;
decaying leaves are compost for red roses.
Leaves, in the square, twirl with dust and
paper napkins smeared with ruby lipstick;
from corner to corner reel, stop when wind
drops, gossip, wait and whirl again, shun
the square’s middle ground, though.
Those caught there are blown over houses
an into a blueberry haze; but as wind tires
and depart they are huddled behind a bin,
declaring undying love to life and beauty;
decaying leaves are compost for red roses.
hug a star.
Hug a Star.
A tiny star, kicked out of the Milky-way by
a bigger one, envious of its delightful shine;
fell to earth, landed in a cove, lit the sea where
ugly fish, looking as cartoon capitalists, swam.
Pulled the star on to a beach that surrounded by
palm looked like a fairytale; I fell in love, but not
with anyone in particular, as female fireflies
drifted among, the trees secretive and ageless.
Towards dawn the star paled into a grey slab,
of stone, excellent for gutting fish, a suited man
came, said the cove was now the property of
a hotel -chain and I was kicked off their beach.
A tiny star, kicked out of the Milky-way by
a bigger one, envious of its delightful shine;
fell to earth, landed in a cove, lit the sea where
ugly fish, looking as cartoon capitalists, swam.
Pulled the star on to a beach that surrounded by
palm looked like a fairytale; I fell in love, but not
with anyone in particular, as female fireflies
drifted among, the trees secretive and ageless.
Towards dawn the star paled into a grey slab,
of stone, excellent for gutting fish, a suited man
came, said the cove was now the property of
a hotel -chain and I was kicked off their beach.
gobsmacked
Gobsmacked
The small trout in the creek stood still
looking at me, a fearless gaze it had;
as I made a face it flicked its tail, stuck
my tongue out, another flick.
A dream had come true I was having
a conversation with a fish, recited an
epic poem: “Terje Viken” by Henrik
Ibsen, its tail flicked no ends.
Bubbles to surface, it spoke to me, but
a big shadow came behind it, too late;
the tiny fish was eaten by a big one that
didn’t have the gift of speech
The small trout in the creek stood still
looking at me, a fearless gaze it had;
as I made a face it flicked its tail, stuck
my tongue out, another flick.
A dream had come true I was having
a conversation with a fish, recited an
epic poem: “Terje Viken” by Henrik
Ibsen, its tail flicked no ends.
Bubbles to surface, it spoke to me, but
a big shadow came behind it, too late;
the tiny fish was eaten by a big one that
didn’t have the gift of speech
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
the lonely heart
The Lonely Heart. .
Ten years now, since they gave me her heart,
eighteen, so very young, had she been free she
would have been married, one or two children,
a mortgaged home (a husband too) not a caged
bride in the cavity an old man’s chest.
Been thinking of her often lately, fallen in love
with her and that is a foolish thing to do, she
urgently wants to leave; blue lights and sirens,
if the doctors can sway her to stay a bit longer
I’ll let her dream her own dreams.
Ten years now, since they gave me her heart,
eighteen, so very young, had she been free she
would have been married, one or two children,
a mortgaged home (a husband too) not a caged
bride in the cavity an old man’s chest.
Been thinking of her often lately, fallen in love
with her and that is a foolish thing to do, she
urgently wants to leave; blue lights and sirens,
if the doctors can sway her to stay a bit longer
I’ll let her dream her own dreams.
misty beginning
Misty Beginning.
White mist this morning,
tastes of the ocean
it’s a good moment to be outside,
the world is at ease, no jet-planes streak
across the sky no ominous clatter of
helicopter gun-ships;
Children of Palestine can sleep
in peace, for now.
The mist’s lifting I can see houses,
they lean on each other, still shuttered
and asleep.
It’s clear day now I hear rattle as
a red-cross helicopter crosses
the blue sky its rotor churns sunlight
around, hope the patient makes it.
White mist this morning,
tastes of the ocean
it’s a good moment to be outside,
the world is at ease, no jet-planes streak
across the sky no ominous clatter of
helicopter gun-ships;
Children of Palestine can sleep
in peace, for now.
The mist’s lifting I can see houses,
they lean on each other, still shuttered
and asleep.
It’s clear day now I hear rattle as
a red-cross helicopter crosses
the blue sky its rotor churns sunlight
around, hope the patient makes it.
sonnet to a boulder
Sonnet to a Boulder.
This big boulder in the middle of the field,
puzzles me, why is it there on its own and
not with its brother further down the vale?
It must be a sandstone has many holes, but
No mice live there, I thought it would have
been perfect home for furry creatures, but
crossing the field, too fraught; beady eyes
and wings everywhere, not missing a thing.
Guess time isn’t important for a boulder it’s
summer now and it is hot to the touch but
there will be no rain before October, a few
months is no more than waiting for a train
that’s five minutes late. It has nothing to say,
but it does whistle when the wind blows.
This big boulder in the middle of the field,
puzzles me, why is it there on its own and
not with its brother further down the vale?
It must be a sandstone has many holes, but
No mice live there, I thought it would have
been perfect home for furry creatures, but
crossing the field, too fraught; beady eyes
and wings everywhere, not missing a thing.
Guess time isn’t important for a boulder it’s
summer now and it is hot to the touch but
there will be no rain before October, a few
months is no more than waiting for a train
that’s five minutes late. It has nothing to say,
but it does whistle when the wind blows.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Lost Recollections
Couldn’t find my car looked everywhere, main roads,
side streets, alley ways and the back of closed down
warehouses by the docks where old cars, once a family’s
pride, are dumped; and memories of Sunday outing ends
as bird droppings and flat tyres Silence, no one about
only immobile autos, I must be dreaming, tried to wake
up, couldn’t, unmoving as an abandoned family saloon
could not move a muscle; a scream, as someone sinking
in a mist of bland oblivion brought me back from
the precipice of permanent unconsciousness. Icicle hung
from the ceiling, my bed was cold it gave me no comfort,
crept to the terrace to draw nutrition from the new day.
side streets, alley ways and the back of closed down
warehouses by the docks where old cars, once a family’s
pride, are dumped; and memories of Sunday outing ends
as bird droppings and flat tyres Silence, no one about
only immobile autos, I must be dreaming, tried to wake
up, couldn’t, unmoving as an abandoned family saloon
could not move a muscle; a scream, as someone sinking
in a mist of bland oblivion brought me back from
the precipice of permanent unconsciousness. Icicle hung
from the ceiling, my bed was cold it gave me no comfort,
crept to the terrace to draw nutrition from the new day.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
A Picture
Intoxicating June day,
she stands on a stone wall,
sleek, shiny fur, chest white
as the sunlit wall;
green bushes in the background,
perfection but
for a darker shadow,
a stalker, a harbinger of
unhappiness and grief;
she sees not the omen
for this her moment, never mind
the morrows.
Blessed she was
I remember her well
she stands on a stone wall,
sleek, shiny fur, chest white
as the sunlit wall;
green bushes in the background,
perfection but
for a darker shadow,
a stalker, a harbinger of
unhappiness and grief;
she sees not the omen
for this her moment, never mind
the morrows.
Blessed she was
I remember her well
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Homecoming.
I hadn’t been here for thirty years, came and put up
a new gate, it made the inhabited house look posh.
I had been spotted, didn’t think anyone remembered
me; people came, family I had never met, they were
clones, of the older generation, with new bodies and
young faces. Clean streets, their children played in
A garden of plastic trees and rubber lawn, they wore
Helmets in case of an accident. The new adults talked
about house prices, homeowners now, thought they
were rich and I wondered if the houses knew they had
become investments instead of homes. In my old room
on the attic there was a painting of me when a young
man, looked at it with some disinterest, wasn’t a pretty
back then, nothing has changed, so I must be timeless.
a new gate, it made the inhabited house look posh.
I had been spotted, didn’t think anyone remembered
me; people came, family I had never met, they were
clones, of the older generation, with new bodies and
young faces. Clean streets, their children played in
A garden of plastic trees and rubber lawn, they wore
Helmets in case of an accident. The new adults talked
about house prices, homeowners now, thought they
were rich and I wondered if the houses knew they had
become investments instead of homes. In my old room
on the attic there was a painting of me when a young
man, looked at it with some disinterest, wasn’t a pretty
back then, nothing has changed, so I must be timeless.
Up The Workers.
Your enemy isn’t a fool hiding out in some
damp cave, no he wears a nice suit, smile often,
has an all year tan, is trim, works out at the gym.
If you earn too much money he’ll close your
factory down and relocate to where workers are
poor and less demanding; it is his right to do so.
You will be out of work, lose your house and
self respect when asking the state for a meagre
handout; your brother will tell you that there
is plenty of work around if you only try hard
enough, and really want to…his mother agrees
Look at me, he’ll say I work 12 hours shift, his
wife is a loveless prune, but they both live for
his retirement in about 2050, your enemy smile
nods his head but doesn’t give a damn, for him
you’re but a tool.
damp cave, no he wears a nice suit, smile often,
has an all year tan, is trim, works out at the gym.
If you earn too much money he’ll close your
factory down and relocate to where workers are
poor and less demanding; it is his right to do so.
You will be out of work, lose your house and
self respect when asking the state for a meagre
handout; your brother will tell you that there
is plenty of work around if you only try hard
enough, and really want to…his mother agrees
Look at me, he’ll say I work 12 hours shift, his
wife is a loveless prune, but they both live for
his retirement in about 2050, your enemy smile
nods his head but doesn’t give a damn, for him
you’re but a tool.
The Loss.
The boy, on the pier, was playing with two
furry rats, a friendly lad the animals didn’t
try to run away. He lifted them up to show
them to me, I took a step back, he laughed
knew I was scared; he then jumped into
the dark sea, with his friends.
There were now many more rats swimming
about and together with my boy they swam
towards a big sewer pipe, shouted to him not
to climb in, he didn’t hear me. The sea was
now glassy and blue I could see its bottom,
it was sandy and empty.
furry rats, a friendly lad the animals didn’t
try to run away. He lifted them up to show
them to me, I took a step back, he laughed
knew I was scared; he then jumped into
the dark sea, with his friends.
There were now many more rats swimming
about and together with my boy they swam
towards a big sewer pipe, shouted to him not
to climb in, he didn’t hear me. The sea was
now glassy and blue I could see its bottom,
it was sandy and empty.
The Visitors.
The middles aged people who come here
in jeeps, and dressed in shirts that look
like tapestry, are tourists; take pictures of
ancient houses about to fall down and of
dogs, cats and hoary old goats.
They are very friendly, ask how old I’m,
impressed and put money into my hands,
when I say 105; it is the air and calm life
they tell each other, no point telling them
I’m forty-five and drink a lot.
in jeeps, and dressed in shirts that look
like tapestry, are tourists; take pictures of
ancient houses about to fall down and of
dogs, cats and hoary old goats.
They are very friendly, ask how old I’m,
impressed and put money into my hands,
when I say 105; it is the air and calm life
they tell each other, no point telling them
I’m forty-five and drink a lot.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Welcome to the Chamber
The AucklandPoetry Chamber of Poems is a hi density vault of a selected poet's daily posts. The editors of AucklandPoetry have selected a poet and invite them to publish all their works in the Chamber and allow them to select the best work for publication on AucklandPoetry.com.
We have invited Jan Oskar Hansen to be our Poet in the Chamber.
The only way out of the Chamber is by writing excellent poetry as we know Jan is well capable. IF Jan accepts our invitation to be in the Chamber, expect a journey through poetry on oskar.aucklandpoetry.com or Jan's nominated name.
We have invited Jan Oskar Hansen to be our Poet in the Chamber.
The only way out of the Chamber is by writing excellent poetry as we know Jan is well capable. IF Jan accepts our invitation to be in the Chamber, expect a journey through poetry on oskar.aucklandpoetry.com or Jan's nominated name.
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