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Jan Hansen Poem
Dystopian
When I see in modern homes, blank walls
not disturbed by art, the center of peace
an outside sofa for a whole family to sit
until a dad is arrested for child abuse
In the building, most families have gone
on a few days holiday, at the same place
in the Algarve, returning on Monday and
talk about it for weeks
When I had a small house in the outer
Algarve I was often visited by a Swiss
lady, small of stature and full of energy
often brought me gifts of things she
had made, which I put on the wall
She had the annoying habit of asking me
question about my life, which I at first disliked
but got to like, which I didn't ask of myself
too much trouble to find an answer.
One day, when she didn't come, I drove to her
place, they told me she had gone back to the Swiss
she must have been in her nineties or so
She had written several books that disturbed
me, did she use me as a material for
an upcoming book?
my dream of a simple life, a dog, and a house
near the woods, didn't materialize, so many
mostly women intruded, they left, when they
gave up saving me from me and a simple life
Now that I'm old, their faces erased
a blimp on my journey towards my destruction
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2024
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Jan Hansen Poem
Les Miserable
I walked and walked down a steep ravine and came across
a village has forgotten by time by a road that evaded dwellings
A track not trodden among boulders and roofs made of canes.
skinny women with empty breasts sat on the bough of trees
waiting for someone to enter their loss of love
While telling their idiot children in the wet grass to shut up
Oh, crying stones free us from the untidy domestic wilderness
where dogs are too indifferent to muster barks.
Under flat stones, the men are hiding the emptiness of the
existence too much to bear now that the vines take no berry
On this day that has no time, but the endlessness of the gone
Cabbage patch, yellow chickens looking for worms before
the children do because they are hungry too.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2023
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Jan Hansen Poem
Street Walker in Oslo
As the black-winged night occupies my balcony
and spread its wings in triumph and shop lights
try in vain to illuminate and gladden a grubby street
I see you leaving your flat and begin your night shift
As you walk past splashes of yellow light,
I can see your white powdered face has not yet
settled into its customary inviting grin and your
lips are a machete slash where blood has coagulated
into lumps long ago.
Dressed in red tonight in the hope of attracting
rampant lust, but since you are an old bird
you are reduced to service those with a putrid need
for violence, but even in your disgrace I know
your heart is pure.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2017
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Jan Hansen Poem
In Defence of Donal Trump
He is a crude person, not one I would
like the share a coke with, but he has galvanised
the working class (middle class) which was
shunned under the previous administration.
The class forgotten by other parties have found
a voice someone who talks for them
and more Americans are at work as never before.
He represents an America that is not glib and
university educated but merely want a job and be able
to feel they are listened to.
He is a reckless president does not understand
foreign politics and don`t care to know, but his group
do not care about Afghanistan, Iraq or other places,
he is delivering want they want.
This is what an American president is for?
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2018
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Jan Hansen Poem
When the going gets cold
I was going down the lane
when I saw an ice front coming up the hill
I let go of the dog.
Ran home and burnt old poetry books
to keep the cold at bay.
Sagacity went up in flames keeping me warm
cold ashes and regrets.
The dog, with its thick fur and disregard
of reading
survived in the hollow of an old oak.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2022
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Jan Hansen Poem
The Intrepid
Tall Savannah grass, he had to drive on its only road it was narrow
had no pavement, he rode his scooter could see the ears of big cats
listening.
It was noon, the lions didn’t like the smell emitting from his scooter,
animals only eat when hungry.
He stopped switching off the motor he wanted to be attacked by a lion,
be eaten alive he thought life would give meaning to his futile life.
The silence was total heard insects crossing the road sound like a regiment
on war foot.
Now or never, walked into the tall grass remembered lines like
“I’m the master of my destiny.”
What rot! He knows nothing about the future.
The savannah was an oat field, a farmer shouted scared the lions away.
Sometimes we will be eaten by the worms in the soil
that is undignified.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2022
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Jan Hansen Poem
Swan Lake and Mars
I saw the old ballet dancer
deep in her Alzheimer's illness
when they played Tarkovsky
swan dance
she moved her hands and body
her movement was beautiful
I say to you
You want to go to Mars
If you do not take the human
art along
your life will be void of meaning
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2024
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Jan Hansen Poem
Silent grass clippers
Why must lawn movers make such a noise?
Why do people with a garden seek to make an outdoor carpet?
Why people seek to make lawns look like an arrested childhood?
We can understand football stadiums, the ball runs faster
and the players do not stub their delicate feet on mature grass.
One day grass will give up growing turn into sand pits a place
For children to build sandcastles.
as big signs telling us not to walk on the grass?
This is not nature but humans trying to tame the natural world.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2021
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Jan Hansen Poem
Cleanliness
The small town
Up north
Is so clean
Shoes is
Forbidden
Out doors
Only woolly
Socks
People
Do not go
Out a lot
Especially not
In winters.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2017
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Jan Hansen Poem
Security guard
I was broke, no work for me at the shipping office,
got a job guarding tractors; sat in a hut that was cold and had no heating
and bad light. Well, this job was better than sitting at home
lamenting my unemployment, but my god was it boring.
Sat on a tractor pretending I was a farmer ploughing a potato field,
and that was tedious too. The uniform they had given me
was too small for my frame looked like a walking scarecrow.
At midnight another guard came to take over and I asked him
how he could survive the tedium. Me, he said I go to sleep
I have full time work during the day.
Next day I got a phone from the shipping office it had been
difficult they said I had a reputation for not playing ball
and being argumentative; took the job handed in my uniform.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2018
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