These Holocaust Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Holocaust. These are the best examples of Holocaust Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
THE LAST STAND
Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota, and the Sue.
Smothered beneath the white man blanket,
Chocking for a breath of airs life's sustaining oxygen.
The beating heart of native drums, are stilled frozen,
In the middle of it's rhythmic thumping, no pulses echo,
Can be heard on the open plain.
The weeping women kneel on sacred ground, shedding
A river of bloods tears, burning a permanent scare across,
A baron landscape.
Death's black raven shields itself, under it's crimson soaked wing,
Against shames immoral injustice.
Greed's unsatisfiable hunger for land and riches fuels lusts desire,
Behold exterminations nay holocaust of the native inhabitance,
Nothing remains alive except ignorance blackened shadow.
How much blood can mother earth be forced to drink before,
She drowns herself or spits up everything undigested,
With sheer disdain and hatreds malice intent.
On a black and white chess board the winners takes it all,
Strategies grand masters playing with living pawns.
Treaties written in vanishing ink, promises disappear in thin air,
Revealing a liars sharpened tongue.
The odds have always been stacked against those believing in fairness.
A rogue tidal wave of humanity has wiped out a nation,
And it's culture within the blink of an eye.
Flights appendages are clipped on the dove of peace, leaving it
Unable to soar above it's own habitat.
Wreckage’s refugees stumble in the ruins after math,
Rapes victims of civilizations civilized,
Are left devoid of their heritages lineage and legacy.
Elders chieftains representatives of a great nation,
Smoke peace pipes in the white mans hunting lodge
As human beings are hauled like cattle's cargo,
Taken to reservations burial grounds.
Ancient ancestors lit up the heaven's vast expanse,
By torches flame,
To guide the souls of the dead unto their great spiritual
The pale horse gallops forward without a rider,
And the red people become a phantom tribe vanishing
Upon the winds shifting tides.
Giving one last final trible battle war cry,
Why my father but the great spirit answers not.
Behold America's legacy, a world trampled beneath
It's heavy iron fist, all in the name of progress or for the cause
Of Manifest destiny.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Having settled into a firmament
of tarnished soil,
your sprouted roots
bring forth sullied growth.
What was blessed
by the sun at birth,
in deep shadows
of the moon,
living half a life in darkness
creating the fear that
comes from a wolf's howl.
SYNOPSIS of 'THE BIGOT'
We are born innocent,
but soon learn to distrust.
Racial prejudice, bigotry,antisemitism
emboldens and excites ignorance
and soon hate becomes the bigot's
religion of choice.
You are our neighbors
We are your neighbors
and we hate you
You do not belong here
You are different than us
We don't just want you to leave
We want to kill you
We want to eradicate you
We will attack you
When you retaliate
we will crumple to our knees
and cry to the world
Look at our neighbor!
Our neighbor is trying to kill us!
Then the world will rush to our aid
because the world fears us.
The world fears what we might become
You must learn to fear us.
Suffer not o man she cried desperate for consolation
Compassion twisted and tore at her heart
but the world she knew was silent.
Painful sounds from death filled wars, would wound her more
than jagged poison tipped arrows that pierced much too deeply.
And yet she carried on in quiet song as the world she knew kept silent.
And if the dying weren't enough, the sight of bloated bellies
and distraught mothers and sacked villages laid bare
by the unwilled force of child soldiers, would crush her spirit.
How could the world she knew keep silent?
Thinking that God did not understand her despair
She wept with abeyant tears that could not flow
as the world she knew kept silent.
To live, to die in the soiled spattered flow of time
passing through, passing through
Is the secret so sublime? Cannot she grieve?
Then silence no more was heard.
Instead a curious word within emerged
from her meditation of life's graces
a Hebrew word "Bitachon"
What was not known in agonies
was revealed in her silence.
Snow falls on the brittle leaves of birch trees,
their branches miraculously overlooked by the December wind.
It makes a sound like the marching feet of scary Germans rushing through Poland.
Snow, mixed with freezing rain,
falls hard on the roof of an unheated barracks in Auschwitz,
filled with men and boys in pajamas.
It sounds not unlike the far-off thunder of the radio in the commandant’ s house,
the angry voice of the Fuhrer.
Snow, descending from the sky like shaved ice, on a brittle day,
5 maybe 8 degrees.
It covers the makeshift roadblocks in the streets of Warsaw,
making little mountains — so pure on the outside but fetid, rotten, corrupt beneath the fine powder.
this ice falling to the ground,
sounds like Russian boots jumping over the mountains.
Rain in Gdansk,
a fine mist,
the smell of the sea.
It covers the streets, where men whisper things that will someday be heard
and old women fall on their knees to pray the Rosary.
it smells of freedom.
We who survived the Holocaust
My life was taken away from me.
I was an unknown Jewish prisoner.
The Germans sent me to a concentration camp.
We had no food, which lead to starvation.
I wish I had a different life
I had a golden crown that could lead me to sudden pain.
I had to march for hours and hours till I reached a point where I can feel pain
beneath my feet.
I had to watch my Dad being wiped by German solders.
I didn’t have any rights or freedom.
In this society it’s all about life or death.
I am a young boy named Elie who is determined to live a healthy life.
I come from a poor family.
I sleep in a small room crammed with innocent Jews.
I pray and pray that my destiny lies in gods hands hoping to live.
I deal with father and son relationships only.
I had to bury bodies including my Dads whose body I couldn’t save.
I had to watch people being tortured like my Dad.
I lived because I believed in God and God believed in me.
We survived the holocaust.
My life was changed forever.
I was a Danish woman who risked my life for a friend named Ellen.
I was sent for help.
I felt bad for Ellen to a point where I was so depressed all I could do is fall to the
I had a life that I was willing to save which could lead me to sudden death.
I had to take care of my family everyday.
For days and days I had to lie to the German soldiers for my own sake.
I had a lot of freedom because the German’s didn’t care about Danish people.
I am a ten-year old girl named Annemarie.
I came from a wealthy family.
I sleep in a peaceful house with less, people and more space to move around.
I deal with problems that my friends and family faces.
I had to be in dangerous situations that could nearly get me killed.
I had to watch the Nazi’s destroy houses that the Jew’s lived in.
They are always grainy.
Slightly out of focus due to age.
Their subjects stand sadly stoic.
Their faces all the same but different.
Eyes dark with hopelessness and pain
sprinkled with some sense of disbelief.
These pictures, some seventy years after they were snapped,
still scream impossibly loud with their silence.
Countless faces, forgotten to the fog of time,
stare back blankly begging for compassion
that will never come.
The impending night has fallen upon us
It woke with much persistence
Our hearts fled from its rage like a doe from a rifle
But the blast had already been made. . .
People fall like rain
The clouds are crestfallen with grief
And the darkness has no mercy
Rain soaks...leaves an impact
The falls are devastating...
She was so strong, like a diamond she shined
Only to burn away and be one with the grime
I never saw her go
But the angry darkness of her essence—strangely glows...
He choked on his words, his memory
Like a child swallowing a pill
It is sticking in our throats
Against our will
And the dose ever grows. . .
Who will stop the night?
You wicked thing how achingly stormy you have become!
Rich in your light as it smothers you whole
Leaving the rest to the droll sound of its toll
As they watched in angry happiness
The smoke of her spirits filling our hearts
No expressions...heavy depressions
He was left to melt and rebuild
His wick ignites—burns are second nature
Though images are hard to swallow
She still talks to our souls
Her story still to be told
Like diamonds never found
A flame of hope hovers
We remain instilled in the rot
The darkness smothers
Its heavy slumber always waking
Naked bodies lie in waste
Can you hear the concealed laments?
Afraid to express
Afraid to breathe
Unable to stop the grief
A young boy picks up a dried hip bone
Scooping up the soil to bury Sleeping Kate
Spines tingle at the crunch of excessive skeletons
Grimy boots unmercifully stomp
Sleeping Kate showed the officers
The skeleton she built out of bone fragments
Sleeping Kate told them we were all the same inside
With this truth, she died
With their guilt, they continued life
They tried. . .
The officers tried to bury Sleeping Kate
But Sleeping Kate is always alive,
Building skeletons in their minds. . .
Name: Rightful Jack
I see the lonesome, washed up, tragedy...
My people, the children, meant nothing to them...
Sacrifice my palms with the blood of one thousand sons...
Analytic substances, known as the air we breathe...
There is no longer peaceful currents, the sea is now a liquid black...
The storms were greasy, the fires were oblique, every word was bled...
They always perceived error in our effort...
But no harlequins were in our already dead, hellish survival...
No one else can be held liable...
The undeniable stench of the deceased mothers...
One man regurgitates his bowl of slop...
Another procreates his remedies of the red drenched taupe...