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Free Verse Holocaust Poems | Free Verse Poems About Holocaust

These Free Verse Holocaust poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Holocaust. These are the best examples of Free Verse Holocaust poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Yet not broken by the blues

....in retrospect
There were mirrors  there
Behind it, where all the Jews would hide
How can someone blame the black despair?
All You were, was a mirror over there
Flooding naked imagery
Flowing naked mercury
Proof there were no fa-ked lies
Unless words were pressed against the frame
Somehow you couldnt recognise...
 your name...
Half blinded..
Besides, you would deny it anyway

One day while searching for those wandering Jews
Purple flowers in my garden winked at me
" we are they, if so you choose"
The mirror held was upside down
(It never mattered anyway)
So I kept on walking on and on 
Until this very day

Ive heard it said just the other day
They used  it to flash the sun
Hoping it would shine away
As some were hiding in its shade
A million miles away
Behind that fragile pane of glass
The looking glass kept looking past
And  keeps looking for today

Looking at the torn disguise
And the lying enemy eyes
Though their lips were moist with movement
As yet the sound remained unheard
The spoken word was truth
One day it all may come to you
Whispered by a little bird

Ive held so high your high regard
And so your high esteem
Your badge of broken Jew
And friends by lives devided seen
I tried imagined I was you
Walking, standing in your wretched shoes
To us were done similar things
They also covered up the truth
In fact its happening here and now
How much cover do they need?

In honour tried to imitate , sometimes even emulate
Your cheeky contraband
Conducting your own orchestra
While playing your own band

This mirror holding up I see
If I was ever to wear those clothes
Emblazoned by a David star
Embattled with a Jewish scar
I wish to have your nose
The link between us circumcised
A covenant yet not broken
A people not yet broken by the blues
My love was found
Intact profound
In around 
the nation of the Jew

Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |



rose early in the morning,
indulged in a lovely quiche lorraine,
ventured out


silence has a sound of its own.

yes, there was the film, my first exposure -

Kristallnacht – the night of broken glass


the sterile space…

alone, i enter the “gas chamber” -
no one’s there, no screaming naked bodies.
the only fear is in my mind – i
must get out, feeling claustrophobic.

exiting and to my right, a setup -
a dummy behind a machine gun
my pulse quickens, throat is dry.

then to my left: hair cuttings, glasses, teeth, clothing -

my eyes hurt as i read – many children were thrown
                                                  into the ovens A L I V E.

the horror constricts my brain. horrible to imagine
one crazed serial murderer and this was an entire country.

cruelty has sharp claws, hidden behind breath and flesh
gifted by God.  monsters have lovely hair, straight teeth,
families preparing dinner, friends cheering with


going home, they smile, swing loved ones around,
kiss their merry cheeks,

and they R E E K with death.


Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Matters of the heart

Balaclava'd minister in a lanky limousine
Condomised personality inside a broken mask
Skewered chopsticks serve pieces of Pancolin
Toilet paper dolphins to wipe his weary arse

Ave Maria.. Amanita Muscaria
Mycaphagists and mycaphobes
Trot the nuclear globe
Shroomy hallucigens
Amanita phalloiides
Droning overhead
I am become Death..

In 1938 Hitler kissed the Pope
In 2017  we kissed goodbye to hope
That thing with feathers of Ms Dickenson
Bards and wordsmith playing monopoly 
With Wisdom and Courage
Lord , help me to accept the things.
I cannot chang...

She explained to me 
The chemistry in the sea
Salt and water formula enacts a mystery
Brings increase of intelligence
Divine assistance to the brain
Blessed petrichor of rain

Make my poetry the most expensive hobby
And talk the cheapest currency
How  explosion can explain to me -
The chemistry of the sun..?

Thus let dreamy slake awaken with a start 
And disintegrate into matters of the heart

Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Words For Those With No Voice

Words For Those With No Voice

For every pair of shoes
All the burnt bones and woes
In the millions, in the mud
All died alone

Starving of food and having lost our souls
Our god abandoned us so
Mother father
Sister brother
Fuel for the Reich, we lay slaughtered

Some of us were saved
By those whose honor made them brave
We must salute them all, the bold and the dead
Even if we have only skeletons to mark their stead

Now that time has passed
There will be contests, it will be a blast
Who wins first? Who wins third?
The holocaust deserves no prize
Why must we die twice, this is absurd?

Honor me with a prayer
A poem
A moment of silence
A heart felt thought about humanity
Prose and verse, to remember the atrocities
This is the honor of men of a higher velocity

Never make a circus of the horrific gas chambers
A contest of who makes the horrors more real or titillating
Its not you the writer or the reader that feels
It’s us gassed and burned and buried with our id numbers
Asleep in the fields in slumber

Yellow stars fading away in silence, in tears
No grave markers to shout out of atrocious fears

The subtly of honor is lost on the crass
Maybe it’s them who should be buried under this grass

I realize this is a delicate issue, I wrote this poem only because is of my opinion, that having a contest on such issues unless for specific venues, causes, etc. is somewhat tasteless. There is no right or wrong, this is simply by view or take on things and thus have expressed so via this poem. A contest implies a prize or reward even be it praise, and so to profit from so many peoples suffering, well I have explained why. However that being said, any expression or illustration dedicated to honoring and bringing to the light such atrocities, is a different issue. 

That being said good intentions are just that, no matter how misguided they may be. We should be grateful we live where we are free to express our sentiments, feelings and beliefs, without fear of repercussion, and that by its very nature will mean many have diverse opinions and views on any issue.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


I walk in a busy street, happy faces everywhere
Coats buttoned tight against the cold,
Stomachs full, warm shoes on their feet.
They don't know.

My grandparents limped through the streets
Cold, starving, wearing tattered coats.
Barefoot in Germany in winter, for a crime of birth
Convicted by fear, jealousy and hate.

It is autumn, and all around me the colors explode
As if a giant splattered paint from his brush
On the landscape, his canvass, until sated.
He didn't know.

My family endured colorless years 
The only hue the yellow stars they were forced to wear
To mark each as something less than a person,
Exempt from even the most basic human rights.

There's a chill in the air this time of year
Smoke billows from the chimneys of dozens of homes
And bonfires litter the neighborhood like cinders
They don't know

My mother can't see a chimney without crying
Reminders of the chimneys at the camp
Where her friends, relatives and nameless Jews
Were released as grey smoke to hover and signal release.

Everyday I see people covered in tattoos.
Tattoo shops pop up offering expensive artwork
Anywhere on the body, some covering every inch.
They don't know.

My mother had a tattoo way before they were popular.
She did not choose it -- it was forced upon her by her jailers.
A number tattooed in black on the inside of her arm
Her only hope of being identified if she survived.

The children born today have choices,
And must never allow a "Holocaust" again;
Choices to wear, eat, watch, think, and love what and who they want.
Make sure they know.

Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Slithering Tides of War

War crime trials had come and gone
And Nuremberg became old news
But there were some who would escape
They packed their bags, with no remorse
Changing names, and hid away
They had shamed the course of history

They had slithered through the cracks of time
from the lowest form of man's intent 
There was no gray, just black or white
The blackest black defaced the way
humanity was meant to be

Some trails of slime don't wash away
As years went by,  new wars ensued
Old men, by now, like snakes reside
in masquerade, and false pretense
while rejoicing in the news today,
in hopes cold crimes have been forgot
But cowardice remains alive
A holocaust of man's design

Humanity must not give up 
And wickedness will not command
For justice seeks its own reward
and somehow fate will have its day

We pray these reptiles spent their years
slinking low, like snakes, they are, 
haunted by the ghosts of war , thinking of the millions gone
thinking of the things they've done…sinking deeper in the grave
spending days, while drinking fear,  
instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin

Inspired by Contest: "A Last Line Prompt"
Sponsor: Julia Ward

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


We are the children
of the Four
A wandering race
The leaves, trees
and streams feed us
The earth, water and
winds sustain us
We belong to no man
A race so
You talk about us
with hushed voices
From behind your
Always looking down
The idea of us so

You don't deserve us
Never looking in our
As though the simple
mention of us will
bring you conflict
Our women so
Seeing them leaves
the vision in your
head for days
So you look away
From our mystical,
regal creatures

As we are the
children of the
forests, rivers and
The snow in the
We have always been
We have always
You gave us our name
It was never your
You called us

You look at us and
see aluminium homes
Your curious eyes
scanning our sites
Picking up on the
old battered cars
Camp fires and dirt
Nomads fighting with
black eyes
Traveling through
these lands

You do not see our
As you are not
children of the air
A race so loyal like
thunder and lighting
Inside our homes
lives a love so vast
and thick
You can scoop it up
and eat it
It feels like candy
Smells like Apple

We a deadly
protective race
Taught from years of
We learnt to only
live with our own
Wandering through
Never having a home

When we burned, fire
was so angry
Our ash turned to
snow flakes
The wind was so
Our ash fluttered
over holy ground
Settled on the
We grew a paradise
Earth was so hurt
you took her
For you paradise
will be forever out
of reach
Teasing you
Just before it's in
your grasp
The ocean washes it
Burning us made
water scream
You had killed the
children of the Four

We don't expect to
be understood
Our wisdom lays too
The Nazis didn't
just kill and
persecute the Jewish
They killed us too
Put your nose in the
Just so 
You can still smell
us on the wind

Copyright © little known nothing | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


On a lil busy route,
For a lil dizzy fruit
They're humming everywhere.
In a bulk, unaware

Layer upon layer
Taking concrete up the stair 
burring vanilla skies
Jesus couldn't dare

For no one they will stand
This plane is scared to land
So will crash at the end

From wrinkles to the pinks
All are humming without a blink
stacked themselves by themselves
In the subway named sewers
The sewers, about to sink

Robots of flash they are
Lost its shine, a deformed star
Humming humanoids won't make it far..

                                                -ankit dedha


Copyright © ANKIT DEDHA | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Silence of the Lambs

Soft like sheep
The Clan in white sheets
Full of indignation
And ignorance
They march to their own battle cries
Care not for innocents who have to die
Their cause though evil, noble in their eyes
As Hamas, they burn those with education who decry
The violent aggressions 

Their deceptive practices and petty battles
Become pretty slogans for the misguided ones

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota,
And the Sioux,
Choking for a breath of life's sustaining air,
Smothered beneath the white man's blanket.
The beating heart of native drums, are stilled, frozen
In the middle of it's rhythmic thumping, no pauses echo,
Can be heard on the open plain.
The weeping woman kneels, on sacred ground, she sheds
A river of bleeding tears, burning a permanent mark, across
A baron landscape.
Death's black raven shields itself, under it's crimson soaked wing,
Against shames moral injustice, humanity's inhumanity, towards it's
Own kindred. 
The final verdict of the white man's justice, based on nothing more,
Than skin color, difference of beliefs, and sheer ignorance.
Extermination, nay a holocaust, greed fever, drives the white demons.
How much blood can mother earth be forced to drink, before
She drowns herself, or spats up everything, with sheer
Disdane, and hatreds malice.
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.
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 legacy.
Elders chieftains representatives of a once great nation,
Smoke peace pipes in the white mans hunting lodge, in Washington,
As human beings are hauled like cattle's cargo,
Taken to reservations burial grounds. 
Ancient ancestral beings, lit up heaven's vast expanse, by torches flame,
To guide the souls of the dead, unto their great spiritual plain beyond.
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 battle war cry, 
Why my father but the great spirit answers not.
Behold America's legacy, a world trampled beneath
 It's heavy feet, all in the name of progress, or for the cause
Of Manifest destiny.

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |



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.

C.A.K. 1-9-201

Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |



Having settled into a firmament
of tarnished soil, 
your sprouted roots 
bring forth sullied growth.

What was blessed 
by the sun at birth, 
now hides
in deep shadows 
of the moon,
living half a life in darkness
creating the fear that 
comes from a wolf's howl.

C.A.K. 11-3-2012


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. 

Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |



Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota, and the Sue,
Smothered beneath the white man's 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 insatiable hunger for land and riches fuels lusts desire,
Behold exterminations holocaust of the native inhabitants,
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
In Washington.
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
 Plain beyond.
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 tribal 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.


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


It began as a lovely September, 2001,  at least, it should have been.....
somewhere lost in the crossfire, between summer and fall
days growing short, and evenings long

But, things now warped into a sense of surreal.  What was seen, could not be real
As if bifocals were mixed in a bin, out of focus, rim to rim

I've asked to borrow a broken pencil,  I find paper blowing in the acrid wind
my fingers shake with tensile fear....and, I write a goodbye.. I don't know why......

An edifice of a city, shades of gray, smoke, and ash,
stony faces, and rubble, of ruin and glass
littered streets, silent people, crying people in shock
A playbill, lost and frayed, blowing into my face

It began as a lovely September, 200l, or it should have been.....

Sirens, shattered concrete,  sidewalks, shepherding the living into  
the arms of someone, or maybe, .... into the arms of no one 
Someone is borrowing a cell phone, ...  there is smell of burnt sulfer
Bridges, crosswalks, that will take them back into calamity, .. our new reality

Someone lends me a broken pencil,  I find paper blowing in the acrid wind
I write a goodbye...  I don't know why......

It began as a lovely September, 2001, or it should have been....

For The Challenge "Chopped"
Sponsored By Craig Cornish

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Silent Voices

Silent voices

Acid in eyes

Raped by suitor

Burned with kerosene

No books for women

Beating wives

No education for women

Woman must wear masks

Women must obey

Women used and abused

Honor Killings

Stoning women for a mans crime?

Murder for two hearts loving 

A child screams as church bells ring

Barrel bombs fall like laughing monkeys
On children both small and tall

Israel treating the wounded of Arab crimes

I ask you?
Are you a silent one?

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Taking out the trash

I took out the trash
After making some cash
I tripped over a bug
I got bit in the leg by a pug
I got up and  limped back to my house
A kid started laughing cuz i was wearing my wife's blouse
I went over and punched him in the face
His mom sprayed me with mace
So i blindly walked home
But then i stepped on a garden gnome
I fell down in pain
Then it started to rain
I crawled into my livingroom
My wife hit me in the head with a broom
She told me to move out
So i went to stay with my dad
I went to his house to pout
I was so mad
I decided to watch some basketball on the tv i found in the trash
My favorite nba player is steve nash
I should've never took out the trash!

Copyright © Trash Boat | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

with shoes on feet

a grab-and-run pack
a small survival sack
with one set of clothes for spouse and self
passports, a file with just few mails
an old diary with addresses to contact
in England, Finland, and Switzerland

and some currency notes
couple of thousands
in rupees that does not stretch
like the American dollars
they were what i needed most

as the pogrom was in progress
in my Tamil homeland
while i always went to bed
with shoes on my feet

Copyright © Henry Victor | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Sunlight through My Window

    Sunlight streaming 
through my window 
   The day begins!
A brief listen to an inspiring song 
  Then I face up to the realities I must 
deal with 
Life is full of sorrow and pain 
   One should realize, however, 
that just being alive is a blessing 
Anne Frank wrote that 
as long as one can be 
   alone with nature and with God 
there will be a a cure for every sorrow
   She was right on the mark with that!

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


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.

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


My head hurts, my chest pounds
The men with guns all around
They frighten me, standing tall
I watch them, as they line us on a wall
One by one my heart clenches
As I see my people fall
And I know that I am next
Now the people watch, and their hearts clench
As I fall.

Copyright © Karissa Kelley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


OBLIVION I would be better off if I kept my mouth shut but my burning lips open to reveal waterfalls of guilty smut I have a lot to say but will leave it to those who have the ability to expose their complaints better than I can Can I? Expose my complaints…… Sickening pessimistic hypocritical masters Conservative communist apocalyptic bastards Living in a sublime society who have sucked and f ****d up rehashing daily their greed paving paths to hell knowing this---no amount of effort can save my starving soul from carefully constructed OBLIVION © Kim van Breda—1 October 2014

Copyright © Kim van Breda | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

After the Mushroom Clouds Have Gone

being in this tin womb, dark and safe,
that's the thing; inside the dark corners 
and air-lock doors, it's a floating life 

toothpaste and pureed stew float by;
still, here's not to dwell on the minutiae
and other small things

and the silent solar-wind powers on, 
while below, the earth, the sea, the clouds, 
the blue and green, the tempered purple hues,
tinge brown

and if from the land you peer up here, 
from where the earth is dying, you'll see
me sigh, through flocks of hope, 
and notice that I'm crying

Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


When might was not right,
An inferno of genocide,
For all those lost in the Holocaust,
A tribute to everyone lost,
Widespread slaughter, the cost,
The massacre of the Holocaust,'
Catastrophe of mass extinction,
People lost in extermination,
All the survivor baggage,
Of such destructive carnage,
The world had to see the light,
Finally, when might was not right. 

Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

An Open Gate Led To A Chapel

And the cemetery was
quite and intensely sullen;
a damp breeze blew
anticipating a cool rain...
an open gate led to a chapel.

Two marble angels stood
by the Gothic bronze door,
their looks were too somber;
and walking in I saw candles
burning beneath white skulls
stacked in piles like bricks. 

The smell of wax from 
the dripping candles
was of a different scent;
the brass cross gleamed
casting a shadow on 
the oval floor made
of yellow and green
tiles resembling a mosaic.

Looking around, I discovered
more skulls on wooden shelves,
these had imprinted names
and looked down on the incognito
ones in self-pity and sadness.

I wondered why of such
a massive grave of skulls
without skeletons; a weird
sensation penetrated my
body getting steady chills.

I glanced across the opposite
wall and spotted a memorial
plaque with the deplorable words
" The final rest of decapitated  
men who rose against
their king who washed 
his hands in their blood. "  

Horror and disgust pierced
my being, I reacted to
that appalling sign rushing
out of the darkening chapel;
and stepping outside of
that flickering chamber,  
the crispiness of the morning
air filled my lungs with relief. 

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Pictures of Holocaust Victims

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.

Copyright © Brady Perkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Tin Men

The tin men
in a fortress of smoke.
Death all around,
hungry for oil.

Their eyes in the storm
divide and cleanse
to be dragged into the mud
once again.

It rumbles on.
One and another,
one ceases, 
one gets stronger.

A rainbow of shoes, 
the broken tin men.

Copyright © dani wil | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Snow in Poland

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 snow, 
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.
This rain,
it smells of freedom.

Copyright © don munro | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

You Take From Me

You Take From Me was written for a therapist friend whose father went through the Holocaust.   She is Jewish.  Her parents and siblings were eventually  reunited praise God, but everything beyond family, faith and love was gone.  They felt fortunate. Both her parents  died many years ago.  She recently received a notice for her Dad that the German government was demanding reimbursement funds as they claimed they had given him too much.  She was outraged and reached out.  This was my gift to her: 

You take from me
my home
my job
my wife
my kids
This is war you say
But you do not ask of me
You take from me my
This is war you say
And never ask of me
You take	
my land
my safety	
It's just the way it is in war you know
Yet never ask of me
And when Your war is finally through
and now my internal war has start...
This was only war you say
And never ask of me
Out I'm tossed
No need to hold
No need to keep
There's nothing left
no home
no place
no one
not one
a few dollars you toss
Really only war you know
And still... you never ask of me
So many years have come and gone
My second life as well
And yet you say
of what we took
your home
your job
your life
your wife
your kids
all these things
all this all
we gave too much
so much
so much
those dollars tossed
so many
too many for your loss
You take from me
once more
Seventy years later more
Although I'm not here for you to take
you take once more
and never ask of

Copyright © Heather Browne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


Who could have known of their watch
Who could have told of their suspicion
Who could have told
That they were the harbingers
To my resurrection?

Me, I sat there
Engrossed in my ingratitude
Betraying the illusion

And I remember, too,
Lingering in the thirsty 
Entwined in my solitude.

Before the Eolithic era
Which refracted by dioptric
Prometheus moulded his man

There were no leaves on branches
No bark on the trunks
No undergrowth in the forest
No sweat on the pores.

I opened the cataract 
on my veins
the silence of the stars
surged forth
down the rivers on my palm-
leaving deserts behind.

Sensing disturbance 
In my oblivion
Reproaching my rebirth
I reached out for the present
Leaving no spoor.

Centuries after
I arrived at the end of my hibernation
At the beginning of their quest
I had not solicited, I swear!

Mother, they said
These cracks on your face 
In the shape of nations
Who will mend them?

Those aliens
Who daily defile your rivers
Make love to your beaches
Shitting on your mountains
Who will excoriate their oddity?

Those derelicts 
Shaking your constellation
To balance the ecology:
Who will indite the epilogue?

Those dirty mercenaries
Who raped your plains
Plundered your joy:
Who will expiate the outrage?

Who will resurrect
Your majesty?
Who will deflect
The holocaust?

Copyright © Gerald Kithinji | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Wrote This Before They Finally Realized

Christopher Colombus- Celebrating Genocide

You stepped foot on the birth canal of my ancestors,
pure, sacred, loved.
you smiled.. proceeded with greed.
your civilization like disease.
my people soon were infected
your protest to "civilize" a free nation took flight on the wings of a lie.
you told us were sent by a god.
this god, we wondered, why did he send you to destroy us?
haven't you said he was holy?
haven't you said he was your creator like tunkasila was ours?
yet you take his name and use it for power.
you believe in your great father and all that he says is right,
does he teach you genocide? massacre?
your attempt to destroy a humble people's heart failed.
although you have spilled the blood of my ancestors and forced your beliefs in front of ours
my blood flows far.
i have descended from struggles and will persevere through the desolate world you have created.
while americans celebrate your name,
i believe it is an injustice.
for they too, live in lies.
Not i. Not i who was beaten, belittled, threatened, torn, cursed, stolen.
Oh no, not i. 
I stand in the land of my people as Oglala Lakota, proud, humble and heavy hearted.
for the day has yet to come where our home,
mother earth, will be reconnected with the many souls that harvested it,
loved it and praised it in thankfulness and with all honesty.
Christopher Columbus,
on the day your name is celebrated for taking our home,
i hang my head,
in my many days...
your day has never been and will never be,
 a good day to die.

 -Isabelle Brave Heart, Oglala Lakota

Copyright © Izzy B Hearty Brave Heart | Year Posted 2016