Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.


You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

Dead March

by
 Under the bunker, where the reek of kerosene 
Prepared the marriage rite, leader and whore, 
Imperfect kindling even in this wind, burn on.
Someone in uniform hums Brahms.
Servants prepare Eyewitness stories as the night comes down, as smoking coals await Boots on the stone, the occupying troops.
Howl ministers.
Deep in Kyffhauser Mountain's underground, The Holy Roman Emperor snores on, in sleep enduring Seven centuries.
His long red beard Grows through the table to the floor.
He moves a little.
Far in the labyrinth, low thunder rumbles and dies out.
Twitch and lie still.
Is Hitler now in the Himalayas? We are in Cleveland, or Sioux Falls.
The architecture Seems like Omaha, the air pumped in from Düsseldorf.
Cold rain keeps dripping just outside the bars.
The testicles Burst on the table as the commissar Untwists the vise, removes his gloves, puts down Izvestia.
(Old saboteurs, controlled by Trotsky's Scheming and unconquered ghost, still threaten Novgorod.
) --And not far from the pits, these bones of ours, Burned, bleached, and splintering, are shoveled, ready for the fields.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Dead MarchEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...


Top Weldon Kees Poems

Analysis and Comments on Dead March

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Dead March here.