Failed Musician?
My uncle died, he was on holiday in Piraeus when a pig fell off
a balcony, he left a piano and since his wife didn’t want it in her
house, mother took it, only because it would lend an impression
of high culture, and no one else in our neighbourhood had a piano.
I played on it day and night, picked up tunes on radio and played
them on the piano; people where impressed, mother too, but she
needed her rest worked long hours at a canning factory; one day,
coming home from school, a big empty space, I cried mother gave
me Danish pastry, they were a day old but still tasty. I’m glad she
sold the piano, though I might have ended up a restaurant pianist
driving from town to town playing evergreens as background music
for bored diners
Monday, May 25, 2009
tre talk
Tree Talk.
Tomorrow, Monday I will go for a long walk in
the bush landscape, so dense that if a boy gets
lost he can disappear forever.
I like Mondays weekend is restrictive walking
about in the boredom of no work, I used to milk
cows, they do not wait for Mondays.
I have many friends in facebook, they send me
picture of themselves playing guitar or football,
and I have no idea who they are.
It’s important to have many friends, something to
do with networking, but I rather have few friends
I can just talk to without preconception.
I hope for rain tomorrow I like sauntering in
the rain, the earth smells good after a good soaking
and makes the old landscape look new
Once I wanted to be a poet, an oak was a tree to
wax lyrical about; now perennials are friends
that kids me about my old passion.
Don’t overdo it I tell them, I might just find
the words which describe you so well that people
will come; chop you down to preserve you.
Tomorrow, Monday I will go for a long walk in
the bush landscape, so dense that if a boy gets
lost he can disappear forever.
I like Mondays weekend is restrictive walking
about in the boredom of no work, I used to milk
cows, they do not wait for Mondays.
I have many friends in facebook, they send me
picture of themselves playing guitar or football,
and I have no idea who they are.
It’s important to have many friends, something to
do with networking, but I rather have few friends
I can just talk to without preconception.
I hope for rain tomorrow I like sauntering in
the rain, the earth smells good after a good soaking
and makes the old landscape look new
Once I wanted to be a poet, an oak was a tree to
wax lyrical about; now perennials are friends
that kids me about my old passion.
Don’t overdo it I tell them, I might just find
the words which describe you so well that people
will come; chop you down to preserve you.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
4 senryu
Senryu
Stunning was sunset
But they hadn’t brought a camera
So it didn’t exist
Senryu
Beautiful horses
Cameras clicked like rainstorm
No one saw the day
Senryu
Busy taken photos
I’ll have to see what I saw
When coming home
Senryu
Barefoot on the lawn
We danced with dawn’s shy light
No photo needed.
Stunning was sunset
But they hadn’t brought a camera
So it didn’t exist
Senryu
Beautiful horses
Cameras clicked like rainstorm
No one saw the day
Senryu
Busy taken photos
I’ll have to see what I saw
When coming home
Senryu
Barefoot on the lawn
We danced with dawn’s shy light
No photo needed.
the nap
The Nap
It’s time you wake up. I have slept long dreaming.
Yes, you have been sleeping too long most of your
life has passed by and you know little of this world,
how it works, not like your talk of equality which
cannot exist other than as cosmetics the icing on
the cake called democracy.
You must wake up now I don’t want you to go to
your grave a fool who thinks animal rights is a big
deal; yet eating beef; these obsessions with rights
belong to the well off middle class who can afford to
eat expensive no meat food, and too dense to know
that if you are poor, you eat cheap burgers
Wake up sentimental dreams, do become a man
your age, your mother has died and so has your dog,
tears are misplaced in the cold light of truth, so come
now you are not a boy, life is not fake, poetry made
to make you maudlin and forgiving; I want to die
bravely like Saddam Hussein did.
Wake up now do not pretend to be asleep to avoid
the final truth which is what you long have know
to be true, your mother knew that and on her death
bed refused to play the conventional game of tearful
farewells they thought she was cold, but she had
nothing to regret, she lived life her way, so you can do.
No, no. no for you who read this I want a beautiful
death with candlelight on my side, not for me
the truth of sobriety, what so wrong with a little show
flowers and moist eyes. a mahogany coffin is much
classier that one made of cardboard, style, means
a lot to me, I was never an emotionally sober man.
It’s time you wake up. I have slept long dreaming.
Yes, you have been sleeping too long most of your
life has passed by and you know little of this world,
how it works, not like your talk of equality which
cannot exist other than as cosmetics the icing on
the cake called democracy.
You must wake up now I don’t want you to go to
your grave a fool who thinks animal rights is a big
deal; yet eating beef; these obsessions with rights
belong to the well off middle class who can afford to
eat expensive no meat food, and too dense to know
that if you are poor, you eat cheap burgers
Wake up sentimental dreams, do become a man
your age, your mother has died and so has your dog,
tears are misplaced in the cold light of truth, so come
now you are not a boy, life is not fake, poetry made
to make you maudlin and forgiving; I want to die
bravely like Saddam Hussein did.
Wake up now do not pretend to be asleep to avoid
the final truth which is what you long have know
to be true, your mother knew that and on her death
bed refused to play the conventional game of tearful
farewells they thought she was cold, but she had
nothing to regret, she lived life her way, so you can do.
No, no. no for you who read this I want a beautiful
death with candlelight on my side, not for me
the truth of sobriety, what so wrong with a little show
flowers and moist eyes. a mahogany coffin is much
classier that one made of cardboard, style, means
a lot to me, I was never an emotionally sober man.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
peaceful beginning?
Peaceful Beginnings
On an island on a big ocean generals walk about
and think they have killed a dream and they call
sullen silence peace. The vanquished will go on
dreaming till they get what they want, perhaps by
then their vision has become a suffocating dream.
Nearer home, in the Middle East, the mighty are
trying to kill a dream by bulldozing it, they too
had a vision and should know that dreams cannot
be eradicated. Now they want power, and call it
peace; but there are those who call it a nightmare.
Of course in the immeasurable future there will
be colossal amounts of peace, the sun will cross
the heavens and the world will heal in silence; till,
on the strand of pristine sand, the sky and sea give
birth to an odd creature and a scream is heard.
On an island on a big ocean generals walk about
and think they have killed a dream and they call
sullen silence peace. The vanquished will go on
dreaming till they get what they want, perhaps by
then their vision has become a suffocating dream.
Nearer home, in the Middle East, the mighty are
trying to kill a dream by bulldozing it, they too
had a vision and should know that dreams cannot
be eradicated. Now they want power, and call it
peace; but there are those who call it a nightmare.
Of course in the immeasurable future there will
be colossal amounts of peace, the sun will cross
the heavens and the world will heal in silence; till,
on the strand of pristine sand, the sky and sea give
birth to an odd creature and a scream is heard.
the peacemaker
The Peacemaker
The animal stood in the corner of the room chewing on
a bail of straw, dung on the floor; a woman, with a bucket,
came and collected it for the rose bushes. We know Israel
has nuclear weapons, but unless we are drunk and in bad
mood we are too polite to mention it; so I left the senate.
Stood on a bridge, threw tiny rocks into the river, a yacht
passed, and her navigator was hit; collapsed, but got back
on his feet again and waved to me with his fist
The Israeli army had blocked the entrance to the bridge and
Hamas, dressed in stylish black and silk scarves, the exit,
I didn’t know how to end this poem so I invented the phone,
it rang, Obama, he didn’t know either, I held up the phone
so both parties could hear his voice and they backed off long
enough for me to get away home to my thistle valley, where
eagles fly, sheep bleat, and no one pays attention to biblical
prophesies and self igniting bushes.
The animal stood in the corner of the room chewing on
a bail of straw, dung on the floor; a woman, with a bucket,
came and collected it for the rose bushes. We know Israel
has nuclear weapons, but unless we are drunk and in bad
mood we are too polite to mention it; so I left the senate.
Stood on a bridge, threw tiny rocks into the river, a yacht
passed, and her navigator was hit; collapsed, but got back
on his feet again and waved to me with his fist
The Israeli army had blocked the entrance to the bridge and
Hamas, dressed in stylish black and silk scarves, the exit,
I didn’t know how to end this poem so I invented the phone,
it rang, Obama, he didn’t know either, I held up the phone
so both parties could hear his voice and they backed off long
enough for me to get away home to my thistle valley, where
eagles fly, sheep bleat, and no one pays attention to biblical
prophesies and self igniting bushes.
cylindrical mirrors
Cylindrical Mirrors
Crossing the raven waters of a deep fiord
he saw a light and fell into a dream, woke
up on a strand that had bleached sand, sun
and turquoise sea, knew he had been given
a second chance.
He looked in the mirror had not aged at
all and wondered if there was a painting
hidden in some dusty attic, he smiled just
kidding, but his image didn’t smile there
was too much to remember.
Last year he went back to the small town
where the fiord arm ends in five rivers,
people there had never heard of him, it was
so long ago, no memory of him existed in
anyone’s mind, as he had never existed.
The future had arrived yesterday, nothing
for him to worry about, as clear, warm light
cascaded through the window; he lived in
a handcrafted kaleidoscope, an optical toy,
yet he was free of false illusions.
Crossing the raven waters of a deep fiord
he saw a light and fell into a dream, woke
up on a strand that had bleached sand, sun
and turquoise sea, knew he had been given
a second chance.
He looked in the mirror had not aged at
all and wondered if there was a painting
hidden in some dusty attic, he smiled just
kidding, but his image didn’t smile there
was too much to remember.
Last year he went back to the small town
where the fiord arm ends in five rivers,
people there had never heard of him, it was
so long ago, no memory of him existed in
anyone’s mind, as he had never existed.
The future had arrived yesterday, nothing
for him to worry about, as clear, warm light
cascaded through the window; he lived in
a handcrafted kaleidoscope, an optical toy,
yet he was free of false illusions.
song contest
Eurovision Song Contest
The young man Rybak, he used to be- perhaps
still is, - one of Santa’s little helpers, has made
Norway proud winning The Song Contest.
After years of walking on the unfriendly plateau
of null points, good to come in from the cold
hear applause, hearty laughter instead of derision.
Nationalistic steel in every Norwegian eye, we
can walk tall again under our banner that snaps
so rude, amongst bluebells, on days of May.
So let’s march behind Santa’s lad to the top of
the mountain white, and poke his eye, the boy
who won, for Norway, Europe’s great admiration.
The young man Rybak, he used to be- perhaps
still is, - one of Santa’s little helpers, has made
Norway proud winning The Song Contest.
After years of walking on the unfriendly plateau
of null points, good to come in from the cold
hear applause, hearty laughter instead of derision.
Nationalistic steel in every Norwegian eye, we
can walk tall again under our banner that snaps
so rude, amongst bluebells, on days of May.
So let’s march behind Santa’s lad to the top of
the mountain white, and poke his eye, the boy
who won, for Norway, Europe’s great admiration.
man tree
Man & Tree.
There was a spruce tree in the forest, he had
watched it grow from spindly sampling to
a handsome young tree, and thought of it as
the son he never had.
But shortly before Christmas it disappeared
he went to the market in town where they sold
hundreds of trees for those who want the real
thing, but couldn’t find it there.
After the festivities he found his tree on a dump,
green needles gone, now it was brown, he took
the dead plant home and used as kindling to lit
the fire on cold, soggy days.
There was a spruce tree in the forest, he had
watched it grow from spindly sampling to
a handsome young tree, and thought of it as
the son he never had.
But shortly before Christmas it disappeared
he went to the market in town where they sold
hundreds of trees for those who want the real
thing, but couldn’t find it there.
After the festivities he found his tree on a dump,
green needles gone, now it was brown, he took
the dead plant home and used as kindling to lit
the fire on cold, soggy days.
senryu
Senryu
Give me a free beer
You fiddler of drink optics
Petty is your greed
Tanka (Bilderberg)
Bilderberg meeting
Where the strong and unelected
Decide our future
Away from democratic tussle
And time wasting elections
Give me a free beer
You fiddler of drink optics
Petty is your greed
Tanka (Bilderberg)
Bilderberg meeting
Where the strong and unelected
Decide our future
Away from democratic tussle
And time wasting elections
Friday, May 15, 2009
senryu
Senryu
As the night thickens
And darkness tranquilises life
Dawn is welcomed.
Senryu
Banality of greed
To shop for the sake of buying
Not for what you need
Senryu
Fear not the dead
They are only a copy
Of your future self
Senryu
Those who work long hours
Feel holly and virtuous
But get arthritis
As the night thickens
And darkness tranquilises life
Dawn is welcomed.
Senryu
Banality of greed
To shop for the sake of buying
Not for what you need
Senryu
Fear not the dead
They are only a copy
Of your future self
Senryu
Those who work long hours
Feel holly and virtuous
But get arthritis
from teheran with love
From Teheran with Love.
Side by side the beaus stood, hooded and
silent, they no longer heard charivari chants as
prayers on pale, shivering lips abruptly ended.
They had been warned, their love was banned
by the law of the land and by straight people’s
norm, and now forsaken even by their families.
They had tried to conform, but their bond was
too strong. Two Iranian men twist in the wind,
will their mothers, when alone, pray for them?
Side by side the beaus stood, hooded and
silent, they no longer heard charivari chants as
prayers on pale, shivering lips abruptly ended.
They had been warned, their love was banned
by the law of the land and by straight people’s
norm, and now forsaken even by their families.
They had tried to conform, but their bond was
too strong. Two Iranian men twist in the wind,
will their mothers, when alone, pray for them?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
sit by the river
Sit By the River
The dripping tap, ticking clock, the long nights
when unwanted memories surface on gloomy
waters, and my past creeps nearer and future
hides in a Saragossa mist, together they push
me nearer a non existence. Sad morning light,
rain falls like an old man’s tears when all ships
have sailed and he is stranded on the island he
shares with snakes and scorpions knowing they
will soon eat him. Driftwood in the sea of life,
I never was a master of my destiny, but I can do
a last brave thing, walk into the Savannah night
and eaten by lions or, with my luck, wolfed by
hooting hyenas, so I will stay where I’m, my
last act of cowardice, sit by the river and wait.
The dripping tap, ticking clock, the long nights
when unwanted memories surface on gloomy
waters, and my past creeps nearer and future
hides in a Saragossa mist, together they push
me nearer a non existence. Sad morning light,
rain falls like an old man’s tears when all ships
have sailed and he is stranded on the island he
shares with snakes and scorpions knowing they
will soon eat him. Driftwood in the sea of life,
I never was a master of my destiny, but I can do
a last brave thing, walk into the Savannah night
and eaten by lions or, with my luck, wolfed by
hooting hyenas, so I will stay where I’m, my
last act of cowardice, sit by the river and wait.
guardian angel
Guardian Angel?
During the night the temperature fell, ice everywhere
I was in a polar kaleidoscope of glittering frost crystals.
Under duvet and blankets I shivered uncontrollably,
then the arctic cold left, as quickly as it had come, and
I fell into an exhausted slumber dreamt I was holding
on to a gentle hand felt a surge of strength seeping in
to my body. Feebly, I gave into this sweet illusion and
beautifully slept. Woke up, when dawn’s light came
through window shutters, and saw an angel leave my
bedside. Scornfully said to myself:” Stop these childish
fantasies you are a man now and have better things to do”
During the night the temperature fell, ice everywhere
I was in a polar kaleidoscope of glittering frost crystals.
Under duvet and blankets I shivered uncontrollably,
then the arctic cold left, as quickly as it had come, and
I fell into an exhausted slumber dreamt I was holding
on to a gentle hand felt a surge of strength seeping in
to my body. Feebly, I gave into this sweet illusion and
beautifully slept. Woke up, when dawn’s light came
through window shutters, and saw an angel leave my
bedside. Scornfully said to myself:” Stop these childish
fantasies you are a man now and have better things to do”
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
blowing in the wind
Blowing in the Wind
Wild oats and thistles covered the track swiping
at my legs as a punishment for old sins I thought
safely forgotten in the misty dale that makes
wars look romantic adventure that separated men
from boys where the trespasses are buried under
flowers and manly never referred to unless you
are a soppy fool who betrays old soldiers secrets.
The cottage was still there but trees around it had
grown so big it could not be seen from the road.
the door was easy to open the window had layers
of spiders’ webs as curtains made the room shady
in the noon heat. In the intense silence the past
came thundering alive, so many grave not visited
and tears of those betrayed ran down my chin,
a lake of clarity, a mirror I couldn’t run away from
I punched the stone wall, bloody knuckles, I had
Spilt much blood but never my own I savoured
the pain, stood on an ancient table throw a rope
over a beam, when my dog barked wanted to come
in from the heat…At ease now I walked back to
the road and drove home.
Wild oats and thistles covered the track swiping
at my legs as a punishment for old sins I thought
safely forgotten in the misty dale that makes
wars look romantic adventure that separated men
from boys where the trespasses are buried under
flowers and manly never referred to unless you
are a soppy fool who betrays old soldiers secrets.
The cottage was still there but trees around it had
grown so big it could not be seen from the road.
the door was easy to open the window had layers
of spiders’ webs as curtains made the room shady
in the noon heat. In the intense silence the past
came thundering alive, so many grave not visited
and tears of those betrayed ran down my chin,
a lake of clarity, a mirror I couldn’t run away from
I punched the stone wall, bloody knuckles, I had
Spilt much blood but never my own I savoured
the pain, stood on an ancient table throw a rope
over a beam, when my dog barked wanted to come
in from the heat…At ease now I walked back to
the road and drove home.
argetntinean sojourn
My Argentinean Sojourn
I left my ship in Buenos Aires wanted to buy a horse
cross the pampas climb the Andes, into Chile, I had
paid for the horse and took a picture of it too when
a revolt came a junta of generals had taken it upon
themselves to save the country, and since I was not
one of them I was sent packing back to Europe.
Forty years ago now, bet the horse is gone, or some
bits of it can be found in old tins of dog food; still got
the picture though, it’s faded but shows I could have
been an adventurer if it hadn’t been for the officers
hell bent on playing with their many toys and saving
the myth of endless parades, military bands and flags.
I left my ship in Buenos Aires wanted to buy a horse
cross the pampas climb the Andes, into Chile, I had
paid for the horse and took a picture of it too when
a revolt came a junta of generals had taken it upon
themselves to save the country, and since I was not
one of them I was sent packing back to Europe.
Forty years ago now, bet the horse is gone, or some
bits of it can be found in old tins of dog food; still got
the picture though, it’s faded but shows I could have
been an adventurer if it hadn’t been for the officers
hell bent on playing with their many toys and saving
the myth of endless parades, military bands and flags.
august mystic
August Mystic
Sunlight flooded through the open window
it filled every room till I swam in light and
had to seek refuge in a troll’s shady tavern.
Towards evening the light surged back to
the horizon, left my landscape to gasp alone
in a night that had eradicated tall mountains;
till moon pushed aside clouds and bathed
skeletal trees and dead flowers in layers of
silver that dripped and became shiny lakes.
Sunlight flooded through the open window
it filled every room till I swam in light and
had to seek refuge in a troll’s shady tavern.
Towards evening the light surged back to
the horizon, left my landscape to gasp alone
in a night that had eradicated tall mountains;
till moon pushed aside clouds and bathed
skeletal trees and dead flowers in layers of
silver that dripped and became shiny lakes.
august mystic
August Mystic
Sunlight flooded through the open window
it filled every room till I swam in light and
had to seek refuge in a troll’s shady tavern.
Towards evening the light surged back to
the horizon, left my landscape to gasp alone
in a night that had eradicated tall mountains;
till moon pushed aside clouds and bathed
skeletal trees and dead flowers in layers of
silver that dripped and became shiny lakes.
Sunlight flooded through the open window
it filled every room till I swam in light and
had to seek refuge in a troll’s shady tavern.
Towards evening the light surged back to
the horizon, left my landscape to gasp alone
in a night that had eradicated tall mountains;
till moon pushed aside clouds and bathed
skeletal trees and dead flowers in layers of
silver that dripped and became shiny lakes.
Monday, May 11, 2009
old lovers
Old Lovers
If I tell you I love you I do so of self interest
but being with you is better than being alone
so I tell you lies every day and I see your
smile, which warms my heart and I think how
lucky I’m to have found you.
I know very well that had I told you the prosaic
truth you would have been so disappointed and
I hate to see you cry, because you’re the only one
I have met who do not tell me how to behave,
what suit to wear, and I adore you for that.
I know you like to go dancing dressing up and
all those things, and I go with to art places and
pretend to like what I see, but I’m watching you
because you look so lovely when talking about
these things and know I’m a lucky man
Here, the other day you told me we have been
together for fifty years and asked for flowers
but I laughed because time could not run that
fast, I pride myself to have a keen eye and you
look as sweet as on the day I first met you.
If I tell you I love you I do so of self interest
but being with you is better than being alone
so I tell you lies every day and I see your
smile, which warms my heart and I think how
lucky I’m to have found you.
I know very well that had I told you the prosaic
truth you would have been so disappointed and
I hate to see you cry, because you’re the only one
I have met who do not tell me how to behave,
what suit to wear, and I adore you for that.
I know you like to go dancing dressing up and
all those things, and I go with to art places and
pretend to like what I see, but I’m watching you
because you look so lovely when talking about
these things and know I’m a lucky man
Here, the other day you told me we have been
together for fifty years and asked for flowers
but I laughed because time could not run that
fast, I pride myself to have a keen eye and you
look as sweet as on the day I first met you.
observed when buying onions
Observed when buying Onions
The massive grey cloud on the sky looked like a tiger shark,
open jaw ready to strike it had one shiny eye, and tore off
a piece of heaven’s floor. I saw shocked angels running about
one lost his harp; it fell like a comet down to earth, and landed
with a thunder on the frozen wasteland of Siberia.
The shark had tried to eat more then it could possible swallow,
it fragmented with a limp bang and fell to ground as lumps of
rain. When I looked up again the hole on heaven’s floor, had
been filled in with fluffy clouds, but the angels evening choir
had to do without the harp’s sweet and lyrical tunes.
The massive grey cloud on the sky looked like a tiger shark,
open jaw ready to strike it had one shiny eye, and tore off
a piece of heaven’s floor. I saw shocked angels running about
one lost his harp; it fell like a comet down to earth, and landed
with a thunder on the frozen wasteland of Siberia.
The shark had tried to eat more then it could possible swallow,
it fragmented with a limp bang and fell to ground as lumps of
rain. When I looked up again the hole on heaven’s floor, had
been filled in with fluffy clouds, but the angels evening choir
had to do without the harp’s sweet and lyrical tunes.
the drumbeat of war
The Drum Beat of War.
Smoke came from the mountain pass troops marched to the border,
general mobilizing declared, the old spoke of wars of yore the young
stopped slouching and looked around for the enemy. Ministers and
king wore uniform, laws were passed against a fifth columnists and
against anyone who had a different opinion than the norm; although
many were arrested no one was tried. War cry had brought order from
the chaos of democratic peace.
The jingoistic fever lasted all summer. a good time for marching and
military parades, women wore flowers in their hair ready to kiss loved
ones goodbye. Fall rain, the north-westerly blew cold and war didn’t
happen, leaders congratulated themselves for winning the peace, and as
big snowflakes slowly fell so did our realisation that we open eyed had
marched into an open prison and could no longer travel anywhere, in
our country, without a passport.
Smoke came from the mountain pass troops marched to the border,
general mobilizing declared, the old spoke of wars of yore the young
stopped slouching and looked around for the enemy. Ministers and
king wore uniform, laws were passed against a fifth columnists and
against anyone who had a different opinion than the norm; although
many were arrested no one was tried. War cry had brought order from
the chaos of democratic peace.
The jingoistic fever lasted all summer. a good time for marching and
military parades, women wore flowers in their hair ready to kiss loved
ones goodbye. Fall rain, the north-westerly blew cold and war didn’t
happen, leaders congratulated themselves for winning the peace, and as
big snowflakes slowly fell so did our realisation that we open eyed had
marched into an open prison and could no longer travel anywhere, in
our country, without a passport.
...and sweet was my love
….And Sweet was My Love
I had met her in the town where I went to school,
about an hour train ride from my town. She was
very sweet and I had met her parents they lived in
a big house that had a bathroom, a novelty for me,
mind I used the public baths near my home.
A Saturday she came to visit my mother, who
didn’t say much, it was like she was feeling shy,
and didn’t offer us anything to eat, my girlfriend
and I went to the movie and when we came back
mother had gone to bed and left us to it.
I had to tell my girl that the sofa we sat on, was
my bed and that I used a sleeping bag; however
we had a spare woolly blanket, I put it over us
to keep warm. Side by side, if not by Sondheim,
we cuddled and fell youthfully asleep.
We awoke early I took her down to the railway
station so she could use its facilities, we also
breakfasted there, in silence, I had realised how
poor I was, she was shocked and wanted to go
home, and thus, forlornly a love affair ended.
.
I had met her in the town where I went to school,
about an hour train ride from my town. She was
very sweet and I had met her parents they lived in
a big house that had a bathroom, a novelty for me,
mind I used the public baths near my home.
A Saturday she came to visit my mother, who
didn’t say much, it was like she was feeling shy,
and didn’t offer us anything to eat, my girlfriend
and I went to the movie and when we came back
mother had gone to bed and left us to it.
I had to tell my girl that the sofa we sat on, was
my bed and that I used a sleeping bag; however
we had a spare woolly blanket, I put it over us
to keep warm. Side by side, if not by Sondheim,
we cuddled and fell youthfully asleep.
We awoke early I took her down to the railway
station so she could use its facilities, we also
breakfasted there, in silence, I had realised how
poor I was, she was shocked and wanted to go
home, and thus, forlornly a love affair ended.
.
Friday, May 08, 2009
the odium
The Odium
Dead roses in a vase on my desk I moved
them away and remembered seeing my
brother, through a door ajar, getting up from
his chair, open the drawer where my pipe
collections were, and break them one by one.
A strange smile played upon his lips, and
I said nothing, didn’t know he hated me so.
He was the one with many friends, he was
the one who sat in the middle of the room
telling jokes at my expense while I sought
the corners. When he died, the chapel was
full of his friends the spoke so well of him,
but I sat there dry eyed all I could think of,
was my bloody meerschaum pipes
Dead roses in a vase on my desk I moved
them away and remembered seeing my
brother, through a door ajar, getting up from
his chair, open the drawer where my pipe
collections were, and break them one by one.
A strange smile played upon his lips, and
I said nothing, didn’t know he hated me so.
He was the one with many friends, he was
the one who sat in the middle of the room
telling jokes at my expense while I sought
the corners. When he died, the chapel was
full of his friends the spoke so well of him,
but I sat there dry eyed all I could think of,
was my bloody meerschaum pipes
road works
Road Works
The loose pebbles off the road I picked
were cold and unwilling, but as they
warmed in my palm they thawed and
when I opened my hand they were sand
of time and told a story of a future strand
washed by swells of seas not yet born.
Life lines in my hands are mere blinks
when measured by cosmic seconds, yet
worriedly I asked: “shall I not be there
and witness a birth?” This silence, so
telling , is free of sentimentality, but it
whispered about blameless eternalness.
The loose pebbles off the road I picked
were cold and unwilling, but as they
warmed in my palm they thawed and
when I opened my hand they were sand
of time and told a story of a future strand
washed by swells of seas not yet born.
Life lines in my hands are mere blinks
when measured by cosmic seconds, yet
worriedly I asked: “shall I not be there
and witness a birth?” This silence, so
telling , is free of sentimentality, but it
whispered about blameless eternalness.
winter of discontent
Winter of Discontent
It was a bitterly cold time, 1949, coal was dear we had to
let the fire die out at night, killer frost lurked everywhere.
The harbour froze over and in the morning frost smoke
filled the town like a ghost seeking deadly vengeance.
In the morning there was partly dried blood on the knee
of my long underwear, mother said I had to wear them to
school as she didn’t have a spare once; my whole being
shock in repulsion. At school I took them off threw them
away…and it was unbearable cold without them on.
Mother scolded me for throwing good underwear away,
just for a drop of blood. I insisted on sleeping on the floor,
in the morning I had fever, doctor came, pneumonia; and
I was sent to hospital. When mother visited, she tried to
kiss me but I turned my face away, she looked hurt, but at
that moment I hated her for what she had done. When I came
back from hospital, the frost had eased and given way to
a shy spring, but I insisted on sleeping on the floor. I never
kissed mother again except when she lie dying, but when
I bent down to kiss her, on the forehead, she turned away
It was a bitterly cold time, 1949, coal was dear we had to
let the fire die out at night, killer frost lurked everywhere.
The harbour froze over and in the morning frost smoke
filled the town like a ghost seeking deadly vengeance.
In the morning there was partly dried blood on the knee
of my long underwear, mother said I had to wear them to
school as she didn’t have a spare once; my whole being
shock in repulsion. At school I took them off threw them
away…and it was unbearable cold without them on.
Mother scolded me for throwing good underwear away,
just for a drop of blood. I insisted on sleeping on the floor,
in the morning I had fever, doctor came, pneumonia; and
I was sent to hospital. When mother visited, she tried to
kiss me but I turned my face away, she looked hurt, but at
that moment I hated her for what she had done. When I came
back from hospital, the frost had eased and given way to
a shy spring, but I insisted on sleeping on the floor. I never
kissed mother again except when she lie dying, but when
I bent down to kiss her, on the forehead, she turned away
chair person
The Chair Person.
The woman, who was chairing the meeting, wore a flowering
dress of an expensive material, she wore much gold and with
her tan she looked almost like a rich gipsy lady only less elegant.
It wasn’t that she was very fat but her lips where huge, too red
and octopus greedy and her fingers, when resting on the table
looked like guillotined, corpulent men, blood still dripping and
when lesser charges shared it looked as she mentally hurried
them on so she could speak.
There was something insincere about her, maybe she didn’t
have problem, but this was the only place people tolerated her.
Beautiful summer evening windows open, I heard bird song,
sun was setting into an azure sea. at home I had a cold bottle
of white wine waiting. Must have dreamt there was a grave
silence in the room, I looked up the woman was glaring at me
waiting for me to share something, I looked up to the roof and
counted the beams and thus the meeting ended
The woman, who was chairing the meeting, wore a flowering
dress of an expensive material, she wore much gold and with
her tan she looked almost like a rich gipsy lady only less elegant.
It wasn’t that she was very fat but her lips where huge, too red
and octopus greedy and her fingers, when resting on the table
looked like guillotined, corpulent men, blood still dripping and
when lesser charges shared it looked as she mentally hurried
them on so she could speak.
There was something insincere about her, maybe she didn’t
have problem, but this was the only place people tolerated her.
Beautiful summer evening windows open, I heard bird song,
sun was setting into an azure sea. at home I had a cold bottle
of white wine waiting. Must have dreamt there was a grave
silence in the room, I looked up the woman was glaring at me
waiting for me to share something, I looked up to the roof and
counted the beams and thus the meeting ended
the ancient profession
The Ancient Profession
Now that prostitution in Norway, has been outlawed
those who turn tricks have to work harder than before,
some of them dress grandmotherly, wait at a crossing
for a man to help them over, and the where and when
are agreed upon. Authentically older women too have
been agreeably surprised never thought they were
going to be touched by a man, and they are not going to
tell. Alas all good things must come to an end, the law
is recruiting pensioned policewomen who do not fear
to go all the way to catch their man.
Now that prostitution in Norway, has been outlawed
those who turn tricks have to work harder than before,
some of them dress grandmotherly, wait at a crossing
for a man to help them over, and the where and when
are agreed upon. Authentically older women too have
been agreeably surprised never thought they were
going to be touched by a man, and they are not going to
tell. Alas all good things must come to an end, the law
is recruiting pensioned policewomen who do not fear
to go all the way to catch their man.
pandemi and paintor
A Painter and the Pandemic
An old lady in our village died last night… flu,
but since it was not the swine variety no one took
notice, the world press will not come here, we’ll
not see our houses on the TV. There are many
disappointments, Amazon floods, many dead, alas,
not from The Flu, survivors can sit on mud banks
without face masks, and wait for all we care.
Gauguin cut Van Gogh’s ear off, at a whore house,
then he went off to Hawaii painted native girls with
big bosoms and flowers behind well formed ears.
Now we know why. A pity none of the women who
worked there, didn’t write down their memoirs, so
a relative could proudly announce that my great, great,
great grandmother knew them both.
An old lady in our village died last night… flu,
but since it was not the swine variety no one took
notice, the world press will not come here, we’ll
not see our houses on the TV. There are many
disappointments, Amazon floods, many dead, alas,
not from The Flu, survivors can sit on mud banks
without face masks, and wait for all we care.
Gauguin cut Van Gogh’s ear off, at a whore house,
then he went off to Hawaii painted native girls with
big bosoms and flowers behind well formed ears.
Now we know why. A pity none of the women who
worked there, didn’t write down their memoirs, so
a relative could proudly announce that my great, great,
great grandmother knew them both.
angst
Angst on the High Seas.
I used to wake up at four, just to savour the two hours before
I had to open the cabin door and go down to the galley and
speak to people I didn’t like, make coffee and prepare breakfast.
Then a ten minutes break resting in my cabin, back down and
hearing the crews, inanities while making dinner, knowing that
between 13-15 hours, I would be safe from them in my cabin.
Two days more and the ship would dock in New York, I knew
of a club, uptown, where sailors didn’t dare to go; there I could
spend all night listening to Ella, dream and not have to speak
anyone and gathered strength to endure weeks in company of
gossiping small town Norwegian seamen, as my ship sailed
through the Panama Canal and to the beautiful Pacific Ocean.
I used to wake up at four, just to savour the two hours before
I had to open the cabin door and go down to the galley and
speak to people I didn’t like, make coffee and prepare breakfast.
Then a ten minutes break resting in my cabin, back down and
hearing the crews, inanities while making dinner, knowing that
between 13-15 hours, I would be safe from them in my cabin.
Two days more and the ship would dock in New York, I knew
of a club, uptown, where sailors didn’t dare to go; there I could
spend all night listening to Ella, dream and not have to speak
anyone and gathered strength to endure weeks in company of
gossiping small town Norwegian seamen, as my ship sailed
through the Panama Canal and to the beautiful Pacific Ocean.
the suitor
The Suitor
Uphill I walked it was still dark, had to be at
the farm a five and milking time. Hard westerly
wind makes the climb tough soon the cattle will
be mooing in their pens, the boss grumpy, I’m
hungry and no time to eat; milking eight cows
by hand is no joke. End of the last hill I see
the farm, there is light in the kitchen,
Emma, my dog, barks, stops when she hears my
steps, ten to five, morning light I stop and catch
my breath, they are not going to think that I was
hasting for them I’ll have a quick mug of coffee
a slice of ham, just like any other day, they will
wonder and the maids whisper, but not ask where
and with whom, I spent the night.
Uphill I walked it was still dark, had to be at
the farm a five and milking time. Hard westerly
wind makes the climb tough soon the cattle will
be mooing in their pens, the boss grumpy, I’m
hungry and no time to eat; milking eight cows
by hand is no joke. End of the last hill I see
the farm, there is light in the kitchen,
Emma, my dog, barks, stops when she hears my
steps, ten to five, morning light I stop and catch
my breath, they are not going to think that I was
hasting for them I’ll have a quick mug of coffee
a slice of ham, just like any other day, they will
wonder and the maids whisper, but not ask where
and with whom, I spent the night.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
bird watching
Bird Watching
Two sparrows, on roof of my car, noisily chirped, five
more sparrows came, chirped too and showed no debate
culture, and then they flew off and left the couple to it.
One of them, I think he was the male, flew off and left
her alone, but not for long, he chirped more left again;
did this three times, finally she, I think it was a she, flew
off with him, but looking resigned. A drama had passed,
that I had seen and judged with limited understanding.
Bird dropping on the roof of the car, but think I had
witnessed a family drama, good as any seen on TV, and
as afternoon dramas must, had ended blissfully.
Two sparrows, on roof of my car, noisily chirped, five
more sparrows came, chirped too and showed no debate
culture, and then they flew off and left the couple to it.
One of them, I think he was the male, flew off and left
her alone, but not for long, he chirped more left again;
did this three times, finally she, I think it was a she, flew
off with him, but looking resigned. A drama had passed,
that I had seen and judged with limited understanding.
Bird dropping on the roof of the car, but think I had
witnessed a family drama, good as any seen on TV, and
as afternoon dramas must, had ended blissfully.
the scream
The Scream.
The new and young couple next door, for whom
all car adverts are made, came home late last night,
high voiced and full of spirit. Later on I heard her
cry out loud and thought: “wine, a man who slaps
his wife around when drunk.”
Next day I saw her in their cute little garden, she
wore the right outfit to prune roses, she smiled
called her hubby darling, it was then I remembered
that the cry, in the spasm of love, sound jarringly
like someone in throes of pain.
The new and young couple next door, for whom
all car adverts are made, came home late last night,
high voiced and full of spirit. Later on I heard her
cry out loud and thought: “wine, a man who slaps
his wife around when drunk.”
Next day I saw her in their cute little garden, she
wore the right outfit to prune roses, she smiled
called her hubby darling, it was then I remembered
that the cry, in the spasm of love, sound jarringly
like someone in throes of pain.
mandrake
Mandrake.
If you have what you need, food to eat and roof
over your head, the rest is frills and rude greed.
So now we hate bankers they offered us a dream,
endless credit never ending prosperity; they had
dream also to be the sages of their time, silk suited
men who had an answer to everything, of course,
they also wanted to be a little richer than you.
No one expect wisdom and cryptic words about
the economy, falling from bankers pale lips, but
wait, they have not gone away, easy credit will be
back and you can buy that ten bedroom room villa
we don’t need. Once again we’ll listen to bankers,
yes, you and I; just like them we have big dreams
and will go on believing in fairytales.
If you have what you need, food to eat and roof
over your head, the rest is frills and rude greed.
So now we hate bankers they offered us a dream,
endless credit never ending prosperity; they had
dream also to be the sages of their time, silk suited
men who had an answer to everything, of course,
they also wanted to be a little richer than you.
No one expect wisdom and cryptic words about
the economy, falling from bankers pale lips, but
wait, they have not gone away, easy credit will be
back and you can buy that ten bedroom room villa
we don’t need. Once again we’ll listen to bankers,
yes, you and I; just like them we have big dreams
and will go on believing in fairytales.
the flick
The Flick
The blond girl had turned her back to the beach
head in hand her guitar flung aside, I think she
was crying. A man walked his dog another one
jogged, birds in V shape flew towards the eye of
the twilight; and no scientist saw the weeping girl.
Night, on a strand of sand that faced the mighty
Pacific Ocean I so often had crossed on my way
to the land of the setting sun. A girl alone and me
on a beach of forget us not, I walked over to tell
her go home; the girl was a heap of golden sand,
her fine guitar was flotsam of a blue fishing boat
and her bikini a tattered plastic shopping bag.
The blond girl had turned her back to the beach
head in hand her guitar flung aside, I think she
was crying. A man walked his dog another one
jogged, birds in V shape flew towards the eye of
the twilight; and no scientist saw the weeping girl.
Night, on a strand of sand that faced the mighty
Pacific Ocean I so often had crossed on my way
to the land of the setting sun. A girl alone and me
on a beach of forget us not, I walked over to tell
her go home; the girl was a heap of golden sand,
her fine guitar was flotsam of a blue fishing boat
and her bikini a tattered plastic shopping bag.
the legend
The Legend
They are everywhere now, streets are full
of them, in cars looking out sniffing the air,
on the beach, in boats, splashing in lakes,
rivers, ornate ponds and swimming pools.
A dying breed, the Portuguese water dog;
then Obama came to the recue. Will he be
remembered, have his bronze statue erected
in every Iberian town square, for this?
They are everywhere now, streets are full
of them, in cars looking out sniffing the air,
on the beach, in boats, splashing in lakes,
rivers, ornate ponds and swimming pools.
A dying breed, the Portuguese water dog;
then Obama came to the recue. Will he be
remembered, have his bronze statue erected
in every Iberian town square, for this?
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