Luciano Pavarotti

Poem By jan oskar hansen

The twilight sun is white looks as torch with a faulty
battery; the late summer heat is passionless and tired,
the sun scares the old people a bad sign, they will say.
Pavarotti died at dawn, cancer they say, his heart was
too gregarious for a coronary. To day my brother has
been dead for forty years, he liked to go fishing in his
boat, took me along when not out with his many mates.
It is good to wake up at dawn and be handed a clean
sheet of white paper to write on and with a pen dipped
in the ink of memories. Alzheimer is a terrible illness
it erases all what makes us human. I will write no more,
but go into the next room and listen to Pavarotti, I will
have to go to his birthplace Medina, Italy, one day.

Comments about Luciano Pavarotti

Very nicely written, We will miss him & god bless your brother also.


Rating Card

2,8 out of 5
2 total ratings

Other poems of HANSEN

4 Seasonal Haiku

Haiku

Snows only purpose?
To make my garden look good

A Poet's Morning

I like to sleep late, almost till eight, my skeptical
duvet doesn’t like to blow its cover, so I pass

Tanka For You

Tanka.

Time is a vacuum
Through its enormity we walk

Still Life

Still Life

He sat in a rowboat, in the deep fiord, with
a bottle of vodka, a flask of tea, bacon butty

A Jewish Family Remembered

Mother left the orphanage at fifteen to go into service,
as a maid, with the family Rabinowitch, who were in
the garment business. They had two sons, who both
went to live in the USA; a wise choice as it turned out.

A Name

How abstract time is,
yet it ages me…
and her.