a barfly and a donkey

8/6/2019 A Barfly and a Donkey

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A Bar Fly and a Donkey

Poems, Stories, Epigrams, Tanka and Senryu

Jan Oskar Hansen

[Pick the date]



Lovers End

Love is doomed to an early death, forever tinged

with sadness; even ardent lovers sense it cant last.

Ah, the mythical scenery no one in the world loved

so deep as us. Entwined, yes, so heavenly I was your

body and yours mine. Sensuous we smiled and I saw

my images in your face drown in the miasma of love.

The cooling of ardour was not for us, but we could

not stop time. Grey sky, why must this delight die?

The ship has left its anchorage and the sea is endless.



Is love a Daydream?

Behind long eyelashes

Your brown eyes spoke

Of untold passion

Our cafe table was an oasis

Of tranquillity

I hoped time would stop

Forever be this moment

But it was not to be

I saw you as a daydream

When I woke up the coffee

Was cold and you had gone.



A kinda love story

You rang told me to come pick up

my shaving stuff and tooth brush.

I found them in a plastic bag near

your kitchen door.

I knocked on the window asked,

to get my heart back too, unkind

you chucked out a raw pigs liver.

My dog was delighted.



Tanka

Minutes in a line

Waiting for me to use them

Yet they smile

They know a time will come

When the line will be broken



Dream Time,

When they carried him out in a black bag he looked small like a parcel,

he had been famous now he was nothing. If you need me just whistle,

too late for that now. And the worlds press had a headline.

But this little death is a natural occurrence its about God the deitys

place in our life. God is not a separate entity god is the usual occurrences

of everything normal. The church seeks miracle to shore up its faith

when our everyday life is a marvel. God is nature god is us, when we die

we are absorbed into the wonder of the world...a mystic that need not

be explained but seen as a rebirth to eternity. The conscious thought

worries many, to be is to know I think, this is the human egotism talking,

when absorbed into the great nothing the individual becomes a part of

the collective consciousness that is nature and god. The world will in time

be calling your name...embrace it now. Because the unknown is

where dreams are born.



Freedom of Speech

The trees root had grown about ground crawled along

To find a better soil to sink deep into for nourishment.

I fell over a rot, rabbits jumped over and boars didnt

even notices it was there. Angrily I got up and kicked

a weed its seed flew all the way to the west bank and

grew on a Jewish wall of shame, something made of

concrete is no match for nature, no need for trumpets

Jerusalems walls will fall in time and free the people

of Israel from the burden of hate. And I will be able to

write what I like without stumbling over Wikipedia and

be denied access on facebook.



Sleepless.

Ants of insomnia

Walk across my pupils

Soon it will be dawn

Relieved I will stay on the terrace

See the sunrise

Then I will go back to bed

And sleep to eleven

Dreaming of a comma less sky.



Awards

Ive worn the uniform of poetry

For so long that the past is now

A distant dream.

Plain is my uniform no medals

Received, yet loyally I soldier on

Guarding my poesy.



Shoreline

Far out there on the ocean I saw a tank ship

steering towards the sun; the sea was golden.

My feet I felt a slight vibration of her engine

and it made me dizzy with futile longings.

No, I shall never walk on an iron deck again

see the sunset the sudden darkness and stars

so near I could reach up and touch them.

The ship disappeared into the misty horizon,

just as well, there was a time when I stood

looking towards the fading shoreline.



The kite

A man was flying his kite,

enthralled by

the kites graceful

acrobatic,

he didnt see

dark clouds behind him.

Lightning struck,

the man fell to

the ground,

lost his grip.

Released from

worldly strings

the kite kept on flying

towards

the undefined.



So goodnight ...for now.

So a day has come to an end,

flashing images of mountains

lakes and forests have lulled,

there is peace of a job done.

A question remains, though

what is behind the tall berg?

What is life like deep under

the oceans? So much life and

how little I do understand of

the wonder called poetry.



Dogs Tell no Tales.

When I came to their house the dog in the yard

didnt bark it whimpered. I knocked on the door

it was ajar, but filled with foreboding I didnt

open. I patted the dog on its head gave it some

sweets I had in my pocket. The cure wanted to

come with me, I took my belt off and used it as

a lead. There was nothing the dog could tell me

and nothing I wanted to know. It curled up by

the fireplace, but it did cry in its sleep.



Tanka (Instinct)

I took care of her dog

Eight year later she came back

Dog glad to see her

Happily jumped into her car

Didnt appear to miss me.



The Mare.

Lonely horse

On a misty spring field

It neighed

Came to the fence

I stroked its damp flank

It began grazing

But looked up to see if

I was still there



Epigram

The masses think they deserve castles, get into debt,

the worthy blame the lenders. They know people are

economically dense and cannot be trusted to think

clearly when given a choice between need and desire.



Epigram.

When the oppressed are freed of their chains,

they build an army and look for someone else

to crush, as it is a human need to feel superior,

this cannot be achieved if everyone is equal.

Senryu

May fortress Israel

One day be free of hatred

And become a nation



Mary Jo where are you now?

Brown eyes full of horror, fingers

clawing at the window and door

as water filled the car.

Your lover stood by the river bank

paralyzed with fear... he could do

nothing to save you, only think how

to get out of this mess.

The papers got their story, not so

much about you, more about your

lover, who lived on and became

the head of a bottled dynasty.

Mary Jo who puts flowers on

your grave? The man who let you

drown got a grand funeral, but of

your name there is only silence.



Epigram

We in the west harp about democracy, demand

other countries do as us. If a country holds free

elections, we will not accept the result, if it goes

against our interests.



Sly Cat.

A black feline lives in my house

when it feels like it.

I have piece of string

swing in front of the cat,

it indulges me

trying to catch the string,

till it gets bored.

Walks into the kitchen

and waits for me

to open

a tin of tuna fish.

In the evening, If it

isnt raining,

it goes out killing things.



Barfly.

Outside a bar, Bella Vista, in the sleepy town of Barranquilla-

Colombia- a donkey wore a hat with holes for its ears, dozed.

Hot day, its serenity was endless. Around its closed eyes blue

flies crawled. Im kind to animals, waved my hand in front of

its eyes to get rid of flies. The beast saw it differently, kicked.

In the street only the donkey, me and the cruel midday sun,

everyone else had sought refuge the dark interior of houses.

Looked at the bars dark, cool interior, since the beast didnt

care for my sympathy I limped back in there and had a beer.



Gloomy

The saddest sight

A bar closed

Four in the morning

When I just want another

Drink

Before going home

To an empty flat

And a stuffed canary

In a dusty cage.

The consolation is

If I walk slowly

The Chinese grocer

Will be open

And he has got cold

Beer in his fridge.



When I Met Sir Cliff

I once met Cliff Richard at a newsagent he bought a conservative paper

which, makes sense since he is loaded? Cliff smiled to everyone in the shop,

I did not, cant see why I should smile buying a newspaper.

That is the difference between us except he can sing bland songs that are

pleasing to the ear and has got hair. We spoke he was pleased to have

someone to talk to who wasnt an adoring fan. We drank wine, too much

and I walked him home, he lived nearby. He had forgotten his keys to

the gate, but jauntily jumped over the wall. And that was the last I saw of

Cliff, a slim bum disappearing behind a wall



Tanka (oil spill)

A flash in the night

A rusty, old tank ship sank

The sea was still

Rainbow coloured spilt oil

Glittered on its surface



An Officers Daughter (Lima 1964)

Maria von Stoltenbergs father had been a SS officer, had a picture of him in her room.

On his cap the dreaded silver skull. But since she was proud of her father and knew

nothing of his past, I made no despairing comments. A strange woman, a round faced

Indian with blond hair, she was pleased of that it made her different and in the line

of work since her father had disappeared, when weird men came looking for him,

she was popular. Maria liked me, said I looked like her father, blue eyes, blond hair

and all that crap. She took a few days off work, I hired a car, we toured the odd

a hill landscape, few trees and no rain had fallen for years. Marias dream was to go

to Germany, meet her fathers relatives, and be an officers daughter. I knew this

was an impossible dream, but promised to see what I could do when back in Europe.

We corresponded for a time, till my letters came back as return of post. I shall not

know what happened to Maria, but hope she found love her kind heart deserves it.



Birthdays

The romantic dream of old age and serenity

Is a lie. Every day is getting more difficult,

The sun burns and rain gives pain in old bones.

Words do not flow as easy as before.

Time that appeared endless is now short and

We are aware of our mortality.

Yet we carry on trying to fill a blank page with

Thoughts...it is what we do while waiting.

We know life its wonder and bitter disappointment.

Death is a strange territory we are reluctant

To go there, even if we must.



Just for fun

In a hamlet in Swiss the baker died,

The farrier took over

And the lucky ones get a horse shoe

In their loaf.



I met Stephen Fry

I was walking along the avenue in Loule and met Stephen Fry.

He was dressed in tweed, not suitable for a warm spring day.

Stephen, do you realize you are followed by a group of men

wearing sunglasses on an overcast day? my body guards.

I see. Let me take you home to my house and show you my

art collection. As we drove to my house, the body guards

followed in a limousine. While Fry was admiring my wall arts

I made coffee.But these are prints. he said. Well what do

you expect, Im a poet. Call me Stephen he said, handed

me a credit card, told me to buy real paintings, I declined his

offer, wouldnt like to see him getting in trouble again.



Unmarked Page

This blank page looks like a snow landscape

a plateau of possibilities, and thoughts not

yet born. II will leave it blank after all snow

will thaw to greenness and the plateau will

bustle of mice, men and Angora goats.

But I may write something on the left hand

corner just a small mark, nothing deep, just

to say halloo and then leave the blankness

to its own silence.



Inventors.

Logie Baird

The man who invented TV

Got bored with it

Nothing on, he said.



Senryu

Think of the wolf

It only gets uncooked meat

And no pudding

Senryu

Think of the fox too

Stealing chicken to survive

Snout full of feathers



Senryu

And think of the rat

Hides under floorboards near you

In fear of your cat

Senryu

A happy mouse...is

One that can drink spilt red wine

And pull the cats tail



My friend Tom.

Tom I remember, a jobbing, gifted actor who never

got a big break. But he didnt give up as acting was

his life, even on his death bed he read scripts in

case he should survive.

Tom was a descent man, too nice I would say, when

people stole valuable furniture from his home, he

didnt report them to the police, because he knew

who the thieves were and didnt like to make fuzz.

Tom I loved and the day he died Algarve was not

the same again and now spring is here I think of him

and his sunny smile. The world is not fair, but he

enriched my life for that Im grateful.



Lovers End

Love is doomed to an early death, forever tinged

with sadness; even ardent lovers sense it cant last.

Ah, the mythical scenery no one in the world loved

so deep as us. Entwined, yes, so heavenly I was your

body and yours mine. Sensuous we smiled and I saw

my images in your face drown in the miasma of love.

The cooling of ardour was not for us, but we could

not stop time. Grey sky, why must this delight die?

The ship has left its anchorage and the sea is endless.



The Sentinel

Another night begins and thoughts run riot, memories,

the shadow land called the past. Useless, experiences

have to be lived in the now, no room for reflection when

it happens. We have to live in our mistakes, when we

thought we were right. As night end and morning begins

I will reflect, when the sun comes over the Spanish hill.

But my distress is total the night will not leave its terror,

and the past seems like a better place.



The Continuation

It is night they have all gone to bed, since Im old and sleep little

my job is to keep the ember alive in the stove, add a piece of wood

now and then. My granddad used to do that keeping the flames

alive, so when the young got up the rooms wouldnt be too cold.

I sit in darkness but see through curtains snow falling adding to

millions of other snowflakes, I know the children will be exited,

the adults less so. For me it doesnt matter, but I havent forgotten

the pleasure of a snowy landscape. It is odd, me godless man, feel

an inner peace, everything that has happened fits together I have

meet my ghosts; nothing scares me anymore except rumours of

a new war. As a child I knew war and all its brutality, I was hoping

my grandchildren would be spared. Im nearly falling asleep but my

granddad awakes me, whispers about my obligations, I add a piece

of wood to the fire and dream of yesteryear.



The Conceit

I know I should not think about this anymore, but I regret

I let her go. All I had to do was to say I loved her.

But I was sad, angry had seen her walk hand in hand with

another man. She tried to explain, I would not listen, and

when she walked away my heart cried, my voice screamed

come back darling, but my words didnt reach my lips.

She walked slowly when rounding the corner she looked back,

yet I stood there frozen in my own conceit. Yes, I walked to

the bridge, by the waterfall, knew I was a fake, and bathed in

moonlight staggered home.



The Customers

Another night, the hum of cafes and bars stops,

waiters, have gone home, the alarm has been

switched on

Plush bar stools, smell of perfume and heavy air

of empty talk. Cleaners come tomorrow morning,

when they are done, the bar will be as soul less

as a morgue. Antiseptic, blanched, no traces of

humanity left. When regulars arise to go to work,

the pavement is brushed of cigarette butts, and

as the day ends, the lonely will be back again.



Horse Laughter

Horses galloped

Across the thunderous pampas

One wore glasses

Wild and free ponies

To corral of destiny ran

Salami tomorrow

Proud stallion

Its strength accomplished

Now a plough horse



The Revolution

Night smells as a dinner cooked with too much garlic,

plates are stacked in the kitchen sink... for tomorrow.

A dog barks dense it is takes comfort in its own racket,

a protest again the overcast sky. Rain in the air hangs

overhead, bland as a BBC voice. Euro- American leaders

dont know what warring side to support keep options

open. Whatever outcome, death will stalk sad streets.

I dont care have an electricity bill to pay, the winter has

been long, I will not be cold for the sake of shaky peace

deals in some distant countries.



The tragedy.

The ship ploughing the seas to Australia

was big and modern. But a silent enemy

lurked within...a gas accumulation.

No one heard the noise as the ship was

ripped apart like a tin of tuna fish.

No time to think or understand;

minutes later the sea was green and calm.



From the Horses Mouth

Caught in a blizzard on the prairie; bitterly cold.

With heavy heart I killed my horse split open its

belly, crept inside. Fell asleep when I awoke my

horse was nowhere to be seen I walked home,

it was surprisingly easy. At the ranch they gave

me water and hay.



MES CHEVAUX DE PIERRE

Chevaux dans la neige,

Je leur ai apporté du fourrage,

Ils hennissement,

La neige sur leurs dos fond,

Suis-je un pourvoyeur de bonheur ?

Jan Oskar Hansen

Translated into French by Athanase Vantchev de Thracy



Belize City

Anchored in the bay

The sea was green

And there were mangroves

This strange place that is

Neither sea nor land.

By the time I was able to

Go ashore

Belize was just

Another port

That no longer appealed

To a middle aged sailor.



A Poets Curse.

It may be a summer day, you feel in top of your game. But be careful before

you dive into this sea of poetry. This maelstrom of conflicting thoughts may

drag you under and if you surface you might not be the same. Swim and swim

till you reach the coast of no belief, on a land that has no sunlight, and where

melancholy mists your days and you long for the simpler l ife. You look around

see family, you have forsaken gone, to an easier place of predictability.

On the Parnassian landscape gold is just a metal and god is an inhuman curse

in the wilderness. You have been the sky, the sea, carob trees and butter beans,

no one can take the mystery of life away from you; and yet, if you survive this

lonely quest, you are a poet and need not explain yourself to god or man.



Senryu (6)

Money isnt all

In Bahrain people cry freedom

And they are not poor

Open loo lid

I stubbornly dare my wife

When shes away

It was my dream once

Reading morally correct poems

Am I a priest?

In our village

The priest has two sons

They call him padre

I must be serious

Is the inner life of oysters?

A worthy subject

Exiled Kaddafi

Can move into my garage

I need curtain materials.



Tolerance

These modern days

Are more illiberal than before

The uprights...a pain

A Churchill would be sacked

Smoking cigars in public.

Drinking whisky

And occasionally get drunk

In parliament

We cant have any of that

Only monks will do these days



Wordy

Twilight years, how I love it

I can tell people to go away

And they cannot fire me.

Freedom of speech belongs

To the old and infirm,

They have nothing to lose.

There is a problem though

Who the hell is listening to?

An old mans rambling.



End words.

A banana... is a practical fruit,

no need to clean it just peel

and eat it.

Like workable poetry, nothing

is hidden under fabled stones

and workshop routine.

a barfly and a donkey

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