http://rochakpublishing.blogspot.in/2012/10/jan-oskar-hansen.html

The pursuit


Three blackbirds
Are chasing a young seagull
In circles, they fly
Until the gull
Find an opening
It flies
Toward the ocean.
The blackbirds
Cannot
Following the gull
There.
They return
Sit in a tree
And squawks
Among
Themselves

Quiet despair
getting up
Sitting down,
We are leaving tomorrow
open a bottle of beer
It ain't cold
The fridge is defrosting
I'm old.
Have lived for 30 years
Am I excepted?
to be joyful?
Big flat
wooden flooring
                       I should protest
be a stubborn mule
seven floor up
not a mule in sight
I can lose the car keys
say I will arrive later.
Just now I adopted a cat
it can't come
I feel sorrowful
cried for no reason
this afternoon,
they say I'm a fool
I agree, but know
I'm right.

Quiet Despair

In a besieged town
In Syria
Snow falls
People starves
Children die
We are powerless
Against
Those who are
Wrong
And those who are right
Snow falls
Silently on
Quiet despair
I think of
Leningrad

Race riot



In an English town a young black man
was arrested in his home and taken to the police cell,
something about the young man who had been involved
in a brawl.
In the morning he was released without charge.
He was not his jolly self, coming home, his mother said.
He went to bed early fell asleep the slumber
continued forever.
The police got the blame, and perhaps he was beaten,
a neighbour woman said, he had bruises all over his body
as usual, when people tell lies, she talked too much.
The black community came out stood outside the police station
shouting about police brutality.
Violence arose.
There was talk of compensation for the mother´s loss.
I have a dislike of uniforms, but in this case, I believed the police
They had nothing to do with the young man´s death
The newspaper published a picture of him
He looked rather bland and ill.
I know what the verdict will be he had a weak heart and died in his sleep.
But this is not what the people will accept; the riot will go on
until the authorities, for the sake of order, pay his mother some money
and soon, the young, black man is forgotten.

Racism

Where are the war graves of the 350 thousand soldiers?
Who fought and died for our wars?
Most of them were black or Indians.
No neat war graves for them, and the racism has not changed
since the wars of our making.
The nearest we can come to honour them are names written
In a ledger.
I think there is a racist in every white man’s heart this often
Because the school system was racist, telling of white men’s
Exploits in India or Africa telling us we brought civilization and
To countries that already had an ancient past.
Oh, you wretched white man, when are searching your heart
And free yourself of the racist mentality.

Racism  
It was overcast this morning with fine rain
but as the offensive  racist I’m
I forced myself to get up at eight and take
a shower.  The water was cold no more gas
I called myself some slurring racist words.
Kicked the mirror the one in hall that has seen
me **** and laughed, went out buying a new
bottle, my racist wife- she is from Kinshasa and
dislike men with red hair- asked why I didn't
buy two gas bottle and keep one in reserve, like
I should be kind to a racist.

Racism 1952

A man had been working on a flat garage roof
jumped into the yard, not a long jump but
landed badly and hurt his ankle.
He picked up a plank and used it to get out
and to the bus stop.
The bus driver wouldn't let him on because
of the plank, and he lost his balance and fell,
People stepped over him, this black drunk.
The pavement was cobble ******, so he walked
to the hospital using the road, where he was hit
by a car, an ambulance arrived, the man had hurt
his ankle, but it was not broken, a plaster cast,
they gave him a crutch so he could get home.
The driver of the car which hit him,
picked up the plank it was just the size needed
repairing his house.
We have come to a long way racism is no longer
so ugly but skulk in corners and the judicial system.

The Stylishness

Coming back he felt like a man sitting
on a train going home from seeing the blue angel.
Besides a person who was on secondment
from the army so often he was a now a colonel and
knew the railway system in Germany.
He had been on a ****** for days and, the room
where he woke up was dingy and needed, and all he needed was a cold bottle
of beer not for him but his shakes.
His thoughts of beer were interrupted by a knock
on the door, it was the army officer on secondment
saying goodbye he was off on another train
had been promoted as well to a higher rank,
I congratulated him saw him disappearing down the hall.
Discipline! That's what is needed, with that he got
up had a shower, walked out with nonchalance. Which
wasn't tricky at a downtrodden hotel.

Rainbow alliance

On a barbed wire fence between Chile and Argentine
hangs thousands of plastic bags, some of the bags from top shops
London, New York, Paris and Bonn.
Here are Japanese, Swedish bags, Arabic bags, and occasionally
bags from North Korea.
The fence between the two countries is an international garbage
collector, it is also an eerily beautiful place like a sad rainbow
overshadowed by neon light.
There used to be skeletons here that also had broken bones
as dropped from planes; the corpses have been removed, but if
you are lucky you might find a skull or a thigh bone cleaned
By the wind; the plastic rattle drowns the call of the condor

Rain falls on sea

The light from the porthole is quite clear today,
the garden I see is a memory of what it
used to be thirty years ago;
for all I know, they may give paved over and painted the lawn it green.
Styrofoam trees and plastic flowers, and there is no need for a gardener.

Do I hear raindrops falling? Is it getting darker or is it rats scratching to get at my inert flesh? I have been dreaming of rain for thirty years,
a tropical deluge foam on the sea, flashing lights, under; each man froze in a frame, no thoughts everyone only absorbed by the eye of the storm.
When the storm passed the deck was cold to walk on, a new clarity of ideas before routinely begins.
When we reach the shore, I will leave this ship to climb a mountain,  to experience everything anew. I’ve waited for rain and the eye of the storm to come and make me whole and young again.

Rainy Belgique  

I will invest in Belgium near Brussel
14% increase in two years, pine tree I think
inferior with a bad reputation.
They make good clogs in Belgium, I thought
clogs were a Dutch affair.
There is not much these between these countries
full of canals and old wind-mills
The tree itself has the appearance of an addict
without an umbrella.
Anyway, Belgium is too small and rainy for a forest
I will collect bad poems and use them to decorate
The out-door loo, the cowshed and other places
Of disinterest

Rainy Day Sonnet.

It is so quiet here in my village when it is raining
dogs in outhouses are overtaken by melancholia.
It appears so useless to bark and their dream might
be of an otherworldly nature knowledge they are
unable to share the sense that their servitude status
a clown for us to laugh at is not dignified.
Once they were equal to other beings that roamed
the forests and plains the camaraderie of the flock
now their existence is in your hands, and it is a burden
we must carry gently

Yes, light rain makes me moody, my loneliness hurts
yearning for a mythical past, I think like the dogs there must
be something more to life than sitting in a cabin waiting
for the sun to shine and warm old bones.

Random Journey
Is the inception of a voyage the end of an abstract nothingness
and beginnings of conscious life like driving to town and buy the papers
I remember a song: “set sail at the sunset” can hum the rest but have
forgotten the words I see in front of me with eyes closed
A red sun and calm sea, this is not the crossing of Styx after sundown or
is my immaturity making fun of me again you can't sail to Afghanistan?
I could sail there on a balloon and land when the Taliban shoot hole
in it and we can drink coffee smoke American cigarettes and laugh.
The problem is you can't look at women in in Afghanistan it is a shooting
offence, they do read the Guardian newspaper in Afghanistan too.
So I will sit here and wait not to cross the river but to sail the oceans.

Random Journey

Is the inception of a voyage the end of abstract nothingness?
Or the beginning of conscious life as driving to town buying the papers.
I remember a song, “Set sail at Sunset.” humming the words.
A red sun and calm sea, this not the crossing of Styx after sundown
ss it immaturity making fun of me again you can’t sail to Afghanistan?
I can sail there in a balloon and land where the Taliban shoots holes in the sky
smoke American cigarettes, we can drink coffee and have a natter.
The problem is, you can’t see any women like they do not exist.
It is like walking without crutches on a broken leg.
No one reads the “Guardian” in this part of the world.
I sit here and wait not for crossing any rivers but to sail the seventh ocean.

Raqqa

Three years its inhabitants lived in tyranny
of ISIS and its fanatical religion a hard place where
smoking cigarettes were punished with death.
To get rid of the occupier the USA air force carpet
bombed the city, and we do not know how
many civilians this caused, how many children?
We have no number, no estimate after all it was
for a good cause, the ISIS was eradicated as was
The town and when the survivors understand
the full the extent of the American bombing they
will have no reason to rejoice.

A Rat

By the tube where the town's sewer ends in a bay with no name
a mother rate sat enjoying the afternoon sun.
Thinking of her life, she was quite proud had eleven babies six of
they had survived to be healthy rats.
She was also quite full an embryo had floated her way, she had
much to be thankful for, and deep in her consciousness there was
a stirring perhaps there was redemption for rats.
She heard human voice people like to come here killing rats,
into the tube of filth she went and, anyway, her babies still needed
her for warmth against the unforgiving night.

The arrival of the vermin
It has now been confirmed there more rats
then people in Paris, I'm thinking of the furry kind
that lives under floorboards and drainage systems.
They have come out from their hiding holes,
walk unafraid up to the centre of the city, sit outside cafes
demand to be fed; dogs and cats have fled fearing
for their life. There is way out of this; we take the most prominent rats
tame them to attack other rats; to **** them on sight.
This new breed of rats will become our pets
some will like them so much they will have
five or six, and of course, there will be competitions.
We will fear our former pets like we fear the wolf
tell stories about them and go hunting them to extinction.

Reading the enemy

Chaos, a whirlwind of dreams and laughter
I read a conservative paper full of hysterical lies.
Trying to defend the rich and well to do.
Pathetic, their uproar became comical.

Goats like tobacco they chew and chew and
Ask for more, the swallow too quickly.

It was good to read this paper showing them
Contempt against the working-class
It is through the enemies’ writing we can find out
What a horrible lot the wealthy class are

Reality check
reality is when a dreamer wakes up
remember bills has to be paid,
a divorcee in a room without windows
and only know it is raining from
a leaking roof, bare fridge and no heating.
How could it become like this?
Execrable state when dreaming
Life was easy.

Redemption
The dogs barked hysterically in the night
Not a normal warning of a dog trying to sneak in
Dog do not know charity unless thought by man
to show sympathy.
Light came on people of faith crossed themselves
something like a wave had passed through the village
it was the ghosts of soldiers who had fought
and killed many civilian, now seeking redemption.
Unforgiven forever marching trying to find a sanctuary

Red Indians


This afternoon was spent watching an old western movie
it was the usual stuff cavalry in spotless uniforms
sitting on tall horses facing a bunch of extras playing
the Indians appeared incredible stupid, were rounded up
and herded back to their dry reservation and poverty.
First time I saw the movie 40  years ago, we laughed a
the Indians they were like a pantomime act how could they
ever rule themselves?
Sometimes I think the Israelis see the Palestinians this way
they have no weapon are reduced throwing stones at soldiers
who no longer care to **** them only knee-cap them.
***** Palestinians living in filth, and no think how it came about.
Israel can stop their water supply at a whim.
Oh, those Arabs when are they throwing in the towel and become
quaint people tourists will flock to see.

Reflection in sunlight

I'm sitting in the sun in the yard it is getting its strength back
and I try to get a tan, you see when I was young I blushed easily
this was because I lived in fear of being found out be sent back
as the intruder, I was the one who escaped poverty.
On a royal navy ship, they had six trainee officers from Ethiopia
who had their own quarter but had no one to cook and look after
them; racism was audible back then, it still is, but it is the Arabs
who get it now.
I, having been brought up by my communist mother, had no such
qualms took the job.
Mind, I also saw it as an escape from the mess hall. Beautiful people
I grew fond of them; the work was easy as they only stayed on board
four days a week. Talking about skin colour having had skin cancer twice,
I no longer sit in the sun, but use a self- tanning cream – it is not only
Trump- but what the hell I look healthy.

Reflection on Wednesday


The bay of Cascais looks beautiful today
calm blue sea and sky a rare summer appearance in December.
A big bulk-carrier is waiting for the pilot, as a red-cross helicopter comes onto view landing on the deck of the bulk-carrier one
of her crew is ill.
When the noise of the chopper dies down, I think
of yesterday when I wrote two poems which left
me feeling sad and tired, these poems were
probably the best I would ever write, but they will
be read by the few and vanish in the dust of time.

Reflectoid

The entrance fee to a heavenly life
                   Is often too demanding
Like a bursting cloud
                   Foaming gutters
                   Flooded streets
No one to complain to like un-tuned piano
                   The tuner has lost
His hearing
No comma or full stop needed

Refugees
I know of a forest where all trees are equally tall
and the distant between them is strangely wide
this so they can get the same amount of sun and
rain will fall evenly on plants and mossy ground.
Trees grow fast here and next year they will be
harvested and new sampling planted.

For the birds, rabbits and foxes that had made
a home at what can be called a new estate will
have to move or find shelter in the old forest
that is full of thorny bushes deep shadow and
and ****** boars that never had a bath unless
caught out in the rain

Nests will be too near others there will squabble
rabbits and foxes have to make new burrows
and they will be snubbed by the old dwellers who
will call them lazy or even worse new-rich should
the have shiny fur or colourful feathers and
will not be sent a Christmas card that year.

Religion versus culture

If the Dutch had adopted the Koran
made churches into mosques would Holland
be different for it is today?
I don't think so. Because of
their characters
and culture would have reminded active
travelling the world for a business opportunity.
Been Moslems in name only as they are
Christians in the name just today
The Islamic rule that works in the backwater
of, say, Pakistan could not be applied
in Netherland, the people were too educated
to swallow wholesale the Islamic dogma
in the end, culture is more important than religion.

Religious cooperative

When I do- as a liberal should- defend Muslims and
their religion and the right to worship as they wish
yet I think Islam is holding the people back as it is
too self - obsessed putting the absolute demands    
of this subversion of this eastern religion that is
a comparatively a new religion with elements of
Judaism and Christianity, yet Islam is despite what
we have heard and the excesses of the fanatics, who
contrary to true Islamic thinking, spew hateful lies,
a peaceful religion as we see practised by
the Palestinians.
Both creeds Christianity and Islam reject the idea of
free for all ****** norms of Judaism and before we are
dismissed of anti- Semitism I still think we are right

Remember Grozny

years ago it was
bombed to submission
like Aleppo
The Russian troops
walked into
a devastated city
They found a sixteen
year old boy
hanged him on a lamppost
That is what
happens in wars
it makes us into beasts

Remembering a dog


When I was young and for us not rich there was
navy academia you could learn engineering, navigation
and catering, with my eyesight I settled for catering
After going through the grades, I got a certificate that I was
a chief steward. a job which consisted of telling the cook what
to make, buying the food needed and to do the books.
The big tank ship, oh so beautiful, sailed from oil port to to
another oil terminal and boredom set in, I left the great ship
in Antwerp and after a week ashore I got a job
on an old freighter going into every port, you could think of
I was in my element; this was a perfect ship.
The officers were not going anywhere, no one wore uniforms
and bothered with titles.
On a French island, I have forgotten its name, a dog came onboard
unseen and since the storeroom was open it hid there
and I didn´t see it before we were on the open sea.
I took the dog up to the old-man he liked the dog it had a home.
Months later, when I was on another ship my old ship was
******* in front of us, the old-man was retiring taking the dog home,
the new captain didn´t care for dogs.
The dog remembered me, and there was a lot of kisses and cuddles.
I'm sure the little dog had a long and happy life seeing
green grass and trees.

Remember the emperor

In Japan, especially in Tokyo, people are a strange mix of efficiency.
Young people are adolescents until they are forty living in an aspic
of western pop culture that does not exist anymore; when their parents die
they either grow up or become recluses unable to cope with the world.
The older generation did well and there are many of them like shingles
in the emperor’s driveway.
Japan had a meltdown 12 years ago which was good for the country
people have less haste and go to karaoke cafes once a week singing
a sentimental song about lonely cowboys.
I was in Nagasaki once, just as Nippon was rising on the financial firmament
but got too close to the sun.
I was amazed how quickly the scars of the nuclear had physically healed
but mentally, there must be a corner in their psyche
that can´t forget and will find revenge one day in the land of the rising sun.

The re-read (poet)

Hemingway was a writer suffering from a disabling inhibition,
the conversation he had with women in his books are based
on wishes and not reality.
Women in his life were stronger than him, he tried
to compensate by ***** behaviour, it always ended with him
stroking the cat and she going back to the USA.
Ernest Heming way was an alcoholic who made his hero
take care centre stage.
At times he wrote like an angel there, are lines in his writing
that is high-class poetry.
After reading his work, setting aside his bragging
he was a great poet.

The re-membered

Speak to me of a memory that ran into the sand
taken by the high tide drifting away
but at low ebb glitter on the lonely strand.

Speak to my memory as seen in a child's eye
when my mother was young and danced
had laughter on her lips and stars in her eyes.

Speak to me memory in the haze of dreams
when life was lovely, and summers were long,
hold on to your vision of yore till your life ends.

Speak to me a memory of your time as a ******
when life was often sad, but books made you sane
in every port a letter from your mother.

Resistance

When the German occupation of Norway ended
in April 1945, those who had willingly worked for
the occupation power was arrested.
Most of them were middle-class people and they
were sent to farms to do menial work.
(One has to add the farmers too was willing to sell
Their products to the enemy.)
Only a handful of Nazis were shot among them
Was Quisling and a few others.
There was no mass- shooting of the enemy and
the traitors, on the whole, it was rather a mild affair.
For the workers the new peace meant redundancy
as all construction works the occupants had undertaken
came to an abrupt halt.
I write this because there is in the national psyche
of the Norwegian to be a bit right-wing and haters
of foreigners especially those of Arabic heritage
Furthermore, Norway has never faced up to the past of a war
where only a few resisted.
The people with a fascistic mindset are in power today
It is sad but what can a sailor do?
The only exception is the merchant ******
every ten of them died during the conflict, and when
they came home were told how lucky they had been
avoiding the war.

The Respect

I do my best have shower every day, keep my nails clean
And when I left the merchant fleet learned to speak English
With a modulated voice never would you hear me swear.
I have been a sailor of the seven seas got lost in the Saragossa
My middle-class manners is a fake not even an actor can act
Every day he needs a break. Sometimes too I fall out of my role
Let it rip to the great consternation of those who were my friends.
As a lad, I lived in a pietistic Christian society they didn't like pigs
But ate its meat (Religious Duplicity)
Pigs are not as many think *****, but you have to keep their pen
Clean and clean them with soap and water, it is a mistake to
Think they like to sleep in their own dirt.  
Nevertheless, a swine is a pig and as long as think along these
Lines nothing will ever change.

Resistance

When the German occupation of Norway ended
in April 1945, those who had willingly worked for
the occupation power was arrested.
Most of them were middle-class people and they
were sent to farms to do menial work.
(One has to add the farmers too was willing to sell
Their products to the enemy.)
Only a handful of Nazis were shot among them
Was Quisling and a few others.
There was no mass- shooting of the enemy and
the traitors, on the whole, it was rather a mild affair.
For the workers the new peace meant redundancy
as all construction works the occupants had undertaken
came to an abrupt halt.
I write this because there is in the national psyche
of the Norwegian to be a bit right-wing and haters
of foreigners especially those of Arabic heritage
Furthermore, Norway has never faced up to the past of a war
where only a few resisted.
The people with a fascistic mindset are in power today
It is sad but what can a sailor do?
The only exception is the merchant ******
every ten of them died during the conflict, and when
they came home were told how lucky they had been
avoiding the war.

Restless hands
I look at my old hand
Blotches of liver spots, slow running blood vessels
Delivering old blood so I can fold my hands
Once they caressed a woman's body who moaned
And my hands were firm
Women used to see me and smile now I walk
The earth unobserved and words become a long silence.
if I tell you how much I miss making love
to sit in the park with a girl of and see the moon while
smoking cigarettes, inhale its promise of love to come
the aroma of her hair the smoothness of her thighs
to kiss her libidos and drink her sweet water, her legs
Apart she has given herself to me.
Asleep enfolded we are, tomorrow is far away.
My old hands remember so much I bow my head and try
to inhale from my hands what once was
It is all so hopeless and soon I will be dead

Restless Love

It used to be like this,
when you were away, I slept on your side
you have away a long time
perhaps too long
the dent in the mattress of your body
is no longer there
we grew tired of each other
I blame the language the way it is spoken
When the silence grows too long
You drive off
to visit your family till tiring of them too.
Now it is like this:
life is  more peaceful without you
I wish you to stay away
and only visit me on holidays.

Restriction, restriction
The world is getting mad, and the police patrol cruises the street
if you are caught without a mask heavy fine awaits.
I see some schools are open, but some are not, there has been an outbreak
of the pest in some of them.
Happy days for parents whose children are at school it is good
to be rid of the little blighters for a few hours.
In Norway, you can go to any restaurant or pub
but you can´t by alcohol- mine is 7up, cola for my friend-
Only in Norway can they do this.
But we have been here before when the Christian- party ruled.
When a left-leaning party came to power, the beer taps were opened,
but you had to eat a sandwich first.
And since no one was eating the bread the same sandwich went in and out of the kitchen
a hundred times; and when someone took a bite out of one,
it was usually full of burnt-out matchsticks.
Cest la vie!!!

Resurrection

Then he died
As everyone must
And he entered a tunnel
Pink light
Like a boudoir
Sliding on soft silk
Well, I never!
Pity he cannot write
About it
Doctors resurrected him
They told him
He had smiled
So sweetly when they
Struggled to bring him
Back to life
Crucified
Surrounded
By Roman soldiers
Sigh!
His death had been so banal
A dream of a bordello

The resurrection

It was a shoe box, black on the outside and white inside,
I had a puppy dog, it was run over, and it was so very still.
Funeral in our neighbour's garden, we used the shoe box.
I told my audience how much I missed the dog, and how
funny it had been, sang religious songs and went home.
In the evening we hear a scraping at the kitchen door,
mother investigated, I was afraid of ghosts, in she came
with the puppy and there was a wonder in the air.
The puppy was spayed and lived to be eighteen years.

The retaliation

the faithful wife came into her husband´s bedroom
he was propped up by pillows and had difficult breathing
I have always loved you, and she said I will help you now
stamped him with stiletto through his heart.
Law is the law she was found guilty of ******.
They sent her to an asylum for the criminal insane even
though she was perfectly healthy,
No locked door she could come and go as she pleased
everybody knew he had been a philanderer, but she
had forgiven him out of love.
What no one knew or suspected she hated him and
this was her revenge.

Retaliation  

The mate went ashore an afternoon,
                                  For the purpose to go to the bar
                                  and steal the cook’s girlfriend;
                                 the cook had to work till eight
and when he finally came to the bar his girlfriend
had gone with the mate to a hotel.
How they mocked him next day, but the cook smiled
showing even, wolfish teeth not his natural once mind,
                                 but nevertheless very white. It should
                               have worried the crew, it’s no good to
                               tease a man who can spit into their soup.

Reward
To live in the misery of the past unable to let go
of childhood’s unhappiness but let it fester and
grow till adult life becomes unbearable, demands
of recognitions and compensations, because their
suffering must be taken up polished and with time
a jewel to show the world. This you owe us and we
deserve what you give us, although it will never be
enough even when the gem drowns in blood by those
who got in the way of the righteous path.
Never forgive or forget, let hatred be your leading star.

The Island

There was an island where the fiord arms open and the     ocean begins
  it was a nice little island with trees and a strip of sand for the boy to play
  he had no interest in swimming, favoured to build dreamy sandcastles.
Not that the boy couldn´t swim, his father had thought him; he didn´t like it
the sea was cold, and monster might lurk in the unseen depth.
There was also a strong current further out depending on the way of the ocean, his father,
who was a strong swimmer, often swam where the current was strong; he called it fighting against the elements?
I saw him waving his arms; he waved back, another current took him around the island, he was still waving but looked distressed. he walked up to the cabin
and told his mother, who ran and loosened the rowing boat from its mooring
To find him, but he had disappeared. The coast guard came they were looking for him; he knew they
would not see him he had been eaten by a sea monster, but he said nothing
The stay on the island had been a happy one for his parents. She was pregnant and hoped for a
daughter, life was beautiful for them, and now this.
A motorboat came and took them back to town, families came, there were many tears,
he was asked why he hadn’t told his mother the first time he saw his father
Waving, a question he could not answer.
His mother gave birth to a beautiful baby everyone said she looked like her father
he didn´t think so, she was just beautiful. The daughter grew up and went off to university
So, it was only him and his mother left in the old house.
She took to drinking and, in her cups, hinted that had he called the first time,  He might be alive now;
he never answered.
His mother committed suicide drowning in her bath-tup.
The house was sold.
The daughter needed the money, and he became a wanderer voyaging across the many seas.
Always restless, the sense of guilt was always there.
Sometimes he dreamt he was the monster swallowing his father.
Now as he is an old man, he wrote a letter to his sister, he so much needed someone absolving him of guilt, there was never any answer.

Riches

Once when the river ran slow sunlight, makes stones look like gold,
I threw into the stream a silver engagement ring, among the gold
it looked trite like a poor cousin wearing leftover clothes.
I saw her kiss another man at a restaurant I could not afford to take her,
my misery was total and my disgrace deep.
How deluded I had been, she proffered gold to my silver.
I looked at my ring in the water it looked like a sliver of leftover moonlight
after the ancient gods, bacchanalia.
Forever I will not speak of this to her, a young man's romantic heart.
The river is now a road, and the romance is dust on a pond,
but in the evening glow you can, among the gravel, see a silvery shine
and my heart is glad.

Riches

Once, in the shallow river where sunlight makes the stone look
like gold nuggets, I threw into its water an engagement ring,
made of silver. I had paid plenty for it on my low earnings,
but compared with the river's gold it was junk.
Saw her kiss a man in a café where I could not afford to take her,
my misery was total my disgrace deep, how could I be so
deluded to think she would take my silver to his gold.
I threw mine into the river; amidst shiny stones, my ring looked trite
as a sliver of moonlight after ancient God's bacchanalia.
And forever I will be silent, not speak to her about this: a young man's
the heart is impossible romantic.
The river is now an asphalted road, deep down the precious stones and my silver engagement ring.

Rich man poor

The man from
the gutter
who fought
his way to the top
has much hate
and contempt
for those who didn't
succeed
because they were
too kind and
had consideration
for fellow man.
When the rich man
donate money
he is called
a great
humanitarian
and it is
envious to
disagree with that.

Rigor

The pond in the village had a film of ice
and the snow under the elm tree had the aroma of
roasted nuts and sweet honey
there were no old women in the village they had been
melted into lard, and old men were salted and put in barrels
they would last for years.
It was a place where survivors live and to do that one had
not to eat your own new-born.
Cabbage and carrots and the spindly arms of old men
Kept the village alive while bankers skiing in the Alps
The British full of discontent waited for the US
To rescue them Anglophone, never mind the rest.
The old hatred between the French and the Germans
Was making Europe healthy again with Belgium and
Holland with costmary cowardice sided with all

What happens to rings?

Some of the are ****** made for decorations
Other rings are made off gold and diamonds
And have a serious implication.
I had a ring once but threw it away made
I feel hemmed in dislike the idea of
Belonging to someone, even in matters of love.
Still, rings keep circulating from finger
To finger, an endless dance of commitment
That didn’t stand the test of time.
The bond between us is our hearts unity
Which only death can erase.