Jan Oskar Hansen
(2/13/2007 3:41:00 PM)
In the queue buying lottery tickets, last day, last chance
to win a fortune, I turned and there behind me she was
the Chinese lady, our eyes met, I had known her all my
life. Instantly every detail of her face was engraved on
my mind, if I met her later dressed as peasant woman,
in Shanghai I would still recognized her
At the local café I ate fresh Danish pastry, drank newly
brewed coffee when she came in and sat behind me,
tremor in hands couldn’t read was acutely aware of her
presence, too self conscious to get up without breaking
a cup or turn to speak to her, but we’re meant for each
other, something has to give.
Pondering my own feelings I got a little distracted, so
when I finally turned to look behind me, she was gone;
had another pastry, remembered she was the Mandarin
lady that decorated every mess hall on every ship I have
sailed on; at meal time she looked straight at me and no
one else in the room.
(2/13/2007 11:28:00 AM)
Focus on a particular topic, imagine what i'd be like to experience what you're writing about. Oh and yes have hidden meanings in your poems they really get the readers hooked.
(2/10/2007 12:06:00 PM)
I didn't have any formal education about poetry. I just write to express my feelings. Please advice what areas I need to improve on. I hope to write more poems about life, love and romance.
(2/8/2007 3:15:00 PM)
Hey i'm new to this site and i was just wondering wot you think of my poems and how i can improve them..
(2/6/2007 5:46:00 PM)
Jan Oskar Hansen
(1/30/2007 1:42:00 PM)
The fat duck stands on ice, the pond
has frozen over, shifting its appetizing
weight from leg to leg, must be cold.
Little snow around, too cold for that;
so why doesn’t it stand on some dead
grass? An arctic fox sneaks up wears
expensive fur, but as it lunges the bird
jumps up in the air, the fox loses its
balance and slides to the other side of
the pond; gets up runs, head down to its
hole in the ground, by the cold boulder.
The duck stands as lost in thoughts,
the Nordic landscape is perfectly still
and the sun is a frozen Florida orange
(1/29/2007 10:53:00 PM)
Poetic Inspiration can be gotten from many sources.
Here's an example (as promised, for Wolfboy1992) .
It's a poem I wrote after seeing a picture of
a HUGE funny-eyed lady.
Titled...''Wall Eyed + K-K-Krazy''
Peripheral Vision! A plus, indeed!
When hunting escapees in thick ditch reed.
A wall-eyed HAG with peroxided hair.
The glint in her eye said 'Say a prayer! '
Fort Knox, Texas
Gossip ran rampant at Sally's Café.
'Joe's Mail-Order Bride, she's coming today!
Her ETA set at twelve o'clock noon.
This Russian Gongzilla'll be here soon.'
'Stupid old Joe! ' muttered Molly McVain
'Fer he ain't gotta clue WHAT'S on that train!
Hairy Ms. Big Foot was his last Blind Date.
I guess he ain't fussy who'll be his mate.'
'He's gotta smarten-up and give a hoot.
Could be a Gold Digger out for his loot.
I'd wed him, m'self, if he weren't so strange.'
Said a penny-pincher, counting her change.
In a Moscow Prison, far, far away.
Bad jail birds yell...'Bravo za USA! '
Cause a thorn in their side had quit her job.
'Pazz-zee VodKa! ' hollers this Slavic mob.
(A fate worse than death for any inmate
Was to rile a guard named K-K-Krazy Kate.
Wired and muscled like a Wrestling Champ.
Worst fear of all? Her Barracuda Clamp!)
Nightly tally caused a terrible fright
When her eyes (pointing to the left + right) ,
Eerily peered into each Cell Block Door.
Counting...'6 per bunk and 10 on the floor.'
'Shezz mean aza croc in a Booclah Swamp
Thura barb wire, barefooted, shezzd stomp.
Gone tu wed a FOOL! ' laughed Testroff to Zaul.
Scott free after scaling the Prison Wall.
Tick-Tock! ...12 O'clock
Express Train pulled up. K-K-Krazy Kate stepped down.
Right there to meet her was Jimmy Joe Brown.
No hug! No kiss! Shared a Cold One, instead.
(Punched open with the ONE tooth in her head.)
Sharing a beer was a great 'Howdy do? '
To a Single Life, both bid it 'Adieu! '
She neatened his hair with her pocket comb
Then, lifted him up and carried him HOME.
Jan Oskar Hansen
(1/29/2007 1:11:00 PM)
The little red fox he had shot
and now carried by its hind legs
to the village to show his mates,
dripped blood from its mouth.
On to the sea- sand lane drops,
of ruby glinted in the sun, but
quickly paled as domestic dogs
went wild ready to tear a tiny
body apart. The hunter and his
(1/27/2007 1:04:00 PM)
| Read 1 reply
im havin trouble coming up with any good poems any one have any tips
Jan Oskar Hansen
(1/18/2007 9:39:00 AM)
Peace in our Lifetime
Hot day, glad to see the sun sink into
the westerly sea, I couldn’t care less
that it made the heavens into a giant
nursery, with pink teddies…smiling,
to no one in particular.
She pointed her tiny fingers upward
and was in awe, I saw only the sea,
red as blood; yes, she would live to
see many more wars before she got
old as me; I sang her a lullaby.