smiles so rare for her
not a welcoming face
fear in pale grey eyes
of warmth not a trace
appearances can fool
no semblance of fire
that beneath the skin
makes the mask a liar
stumbled into tinder
my chimney smoking
horned into bonfires
deception is stoking
inner magma outed
slow magnetic glow
mechanic love only
imagination can sow
Tuesday 29th December 2020 10:36 am
Pretty much the only poem I have that is appropriate for Holocaust Memorial Day.
(Artwork: "Rabbi Loew and the Golem", from "The Prague Golem: Jewish Stories from the Ghetto", ed. Harald Salfellner, Vitalis, 2016. The artist is uncredited)
For centuries I’ve lain here undisturbed,
this synagogue’s hushed attic my bedchamber,
the life-spark in me stilled...
Monday 27th January 2020 10:24 pm
For those who are alive
To see the British newsreel
And remember the spring of 1945.
The British army entered Bergen-Belsen,
The heart of Germany -
The town of beauty and harmony.
Neat gardens, rich farms, …
All around seemed to have only charms.
English soldiers began to admire the place,
In any case, up to the moment
When they felt the smell.
It looked lik...
Tuesday 27th January 2015 8:57 pm
Listen not unto the lie that stings the lips.
Witness not the act that stays a pitied mind.
Speak not of the hatred that will crack the whips.
Let not those insidious be here enshrined.
Trample not upon the freedoms of your kin.
Take not which was never here for you to own.
Read not of the bitterness that splits the skin.
Write not of the malice that shatters the bone.
Reason with the lessons of...
Tuesday 15th July 2014 11:22 am
Forever let this place here be
A warning to humanity,
A cry of despair, suffering;
Death in total, unrelenting.
Forever let its soil be bare,
For life shall grow not anywhere,
This place, a scar upon the face
Of mans wickedness, mans disgrace.
Forever let this place here stand
As evidence of evil planned,
A barren wasteland, void of hope,
Where many left in clouds of smoke...
Saturday 19th October 2013 4:10 pm
By the dull electric lamp
arose a vision so intense,
undimmed by squalor, stench and damp
in that Polish prison camp.
Emblems of their offence,
pink triangle and yellow star,
tattoo just below the sleeve
a hunger for tomorrow,
for reprieve. A hope that
what began in sorrow
would not end in grief.
Saturday 22nd June 2013 4:58 pm
Pitiful the morsels for the feeding of the rats,
Dished out unemotionally by vicious little cats,
Like vermin, out the rats they come and scurry back to hide,
Whilst all the while the fat cats feast voraciously outside.
In the darkest corners of the high walled city streets,
The rank and rotten souls of human waste claw to compete,
Shuffling through the blac...
Friday 10th May 2013 4:17 pm
And fall to my knees.
The earth is cold tonight, my sight
Is sorrowed as I place my hands on its frozen surface,
No furnace to warm me, but bereft.
Here, on the borrowed hour
Of my death.
The frost seeping through my clothes
Chills my bones, I am lost here, alone.
The precipice in front of me is wide, and deep,
But full. I keep my head dipped,
Knowing they watch ...
Thursday 21st March 2013 9:59 pm