Tanka
He rode his brave steed
Up a steep mountain and down
To meet his beloved
Burst lungs; the mount, useless now
Was made into salami
Tanka
From a fair distance
I could see the house was empty
Deep melancholy
Etched in faces of the dead
Frozen on the window pane
On cold winter nights
When the past comes back to haunt
Both innocent and guilty
Of what they failed to do
To give time for those in need
AucklandPoetry.com presents Poet Resident JAN OSKAR HANSEN on http://OSKAR.AUCKLANDPOETRY.COM
Monday, February 04, 2008
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