Forfatter: Jostein
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Richer than wealth (To his wife on shopping)
One day we’ll get rid of all our stuff.Inchallah.Just you and me and it will be enoughInchallahWe’ll have a camper on a beachAnd merely a toothbrush eachInchallah One day we’ll escape the rat race for goodInchallahAnd do nothing all day, as we shouldInchallahAnd by night on a duneWe’ll sleep with the moonInchallah Yes, a time…
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And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand
We’re no poets. We’re not Shakespeare nor Wordsworth, not Auden nor Chaucer. We don’t have our collected works in the local book store, not in any book store, and no works to collect for that matter. For even if our drawers are full of poetry, a careful selection of the myriad of false starts on…
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Now ’tis spring soon
There are no flowers. But there is grass. And there is weed, and dirt where there shouldn’t be, and the dirt which is in the compost, where it should be, needs to be turned and — oh, a worm!, carefully returned to where it belongs. Is there happiness in the earth? There is. As long…
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Thine own bright eyes
We went up the mountain. The trees were dark green and brown, your cheeks were red, your eyes were blue — and the jacket, the jacket had bright orange zippers. But the snow was bright white and your hood was dark black. And I took your picture without any colours and the zippers faded away…
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Forty winters besieging my brow
There is a time for everything. There’s a time for eternities. There’s a time for colours. There’s a time for hope that you’ll be the best basketball player in the world, or at least in your country, or at least in your city, or at least, one day, dunk. There’s a time for light blue…