Auckland Poetry

Wordless Today.

Pink and blue billows, on the poetic sky,
dripping of eager words. Alas, towards dawn
a westerly wind blew, cleared the sky and in
the morning it was as blank as a screen, that
lit up when the sun came through the skylight.

But the sun passes, as it must, and the screen
grays while, in vain, it waits to be written on.
To be dreamless is a curse, slow death, listless
looking at sky and finding only blandness, but
also words by other poets that I cannot steal.

If I sigh and say: “wish I had written this” and
my friend says: “you will Oscar, you will,” then
I will not fret, and cry in my absinth- laugh, say:
“You’re a droll fellow,” go on dreaming and wait
for a versifier cumulous on the morning sky

Animal Sentimentality

If I told and elephant it was the biggest land animal
in the world, would it trumpet this good news around
and be bigheaded, or be envious the elegant giraffe,
for its lovely eyes, long neck and splendid view?

On the pristine sandy beach, near the Nordic town,
a rare, long legged bird landed, it was so beautiful
that it was shot next day for its feathers, the paper
that reported the crime had black borders that day.

An elephant isn’t cute, walks arduously, cranky eyes,
once saw an elephant foot, used as an umbrella stand,
bought its owner was on holiday in Africa, this made
me so gloomy that I peed into the foot before leaving.

I should have said something at once, hit him and left
in a righteous huff, but had also brought bottles of
whisky; yes, I do have soft heart for animals, bit booze
is dear in Sweden; mind, I never visited him again.