Best Antwerp Poems


Premium Member At the Gates of Auschwitz

At The Gates of Auschwitz

Today, I stand
At the gates of hell;
“Arbeit macht frei,”
(work sets you free!)
That is Auschwitz.
Where they burned God’s children,
And the world stood by;
Oblivious,
To what was happening inside.

The League of Nations
(Whose mandate was World Peace)
Failed!
And in 1942
The trains rolled into Auschwitz
Carrying God’s children;
Packed like cattle into box cars
(Cold, diseased, inhumanely treated)
Ready for slaughter.
Insane hatred condemned them,
As in the past
For events through no fault of theirs
Because they were Jewish.

Take, for example,
That ocean liner in 1939,
The ‘MS St. Louis’
Carrying Jews to Cuba.
A scheme of the Nazis
To prove; Jews were pariahs,
That nobody would welcome,
Nor would anyone want.
Cuba denied safe harbour.
The U.S.A. turned them away,
And so did Canada;
And they systemically decreed,
“It's not our problem!”

Germany did have a solution;
Ethnic cleansing
In the ovens of Auschwitz.
And the world looked the other way.
The world did not care!
Later, when the horror was exposed,
The free world would apologize, officially.
“If we do not remember the past,
We are doomed to repeat it.”
At the Dachau concentration camp
On the memorial to the Holocaust
It is written,
“Never Again!”
                     ***

Note:
   On May 13, 1939, the “M.S. St. Louis” left Hamburg, Germany bound for Havana, Cuba with approximately nine hundred and one Jewish refugees aboard, to escape from Nazi persecution. Only twenty-eight passengers were allowed to disembark.
   The ship then sailed to the United States where it was refused safe entry, and then to Canada and was also refused safe entry. The ship returned to Antwerp, Belgium, and the passengers were granted refugee status in a number of European countries.

William Tyndale - An Inspiring Tale

Dedicated to my pastor, Dean Andrew Cheah

Come, hear me now as I tell you a tale
An inspiring tale of William Tyndale
A man who poured out his life to translate
God's Word from Greek, not the Latin Vulgate

He fled from country to country
Living like an unsettled refugee
He had to flee to continue God's work
From his arduous task, he did not shirk

God sent him helping hands along the way
Partners in the Gospel, to ease his day
Walsh, Monmouth, Frith, Poyntz and others
Who aided the great Bible translator

After much sweat and perspiration
He finished the English New Testament
He tried to print it, but was discovered
From Cologne, he had to flee for cover

He printed copies in Worms by God's grace
They were smuggled and spread at great pace
Those were dangerous times of persecution
Having God's Word in English was treason 

Bibles were burnt, but copies increased
God's Word brought the common people release
Sweet release from the darkness of their age
God's Truth shone brightly on each precious page

In Antwerp, he was betrayed by a friend
Imprisoned for fifteen months before his end
Vilvoorde prison was a dark, cold place
In suffering, his faith was not effaced

With a noose around his neck, he still prayed
'Lord, open the king of England's eyes,' he said
Strangled to death, then burnt as a heretic
Executed in the eyes of the public

God answered Tyndale's dying prayer
The eyes of the king were opened a year later
He encouraged the distribution
Of the English Bible to the nation

Tyndale's blood was spilled upon the pages
Of God's Word that's lasted through the ages
Do we treasure the Bible we've bought with ease?
Do we value His Word in times of peace?

God's Word was brought to us with much bloodshed
How do we respond to the verses we've read?
Are our hearts burning with unyielding passion?
Passion for the message of salvation!

The Secret of Total Gentleness and Aggression

Why people somewhere so kind and gentle
and somewhere not? 
Why people in Saint-Petersburg ,
Moskow,  Astana, Bishkek
Look so impolite, inhospitable and  unfriendly?
Ask about it the happy inhabitants
or better look himself for what 
is the best  product  of free society 
this kind of people  who lived in Basel, Antwerp, Quebec 
with Oslo  or those
who  fast  transformed  for better  sort of governing - 
Turkian, Philippinians and Ukrainians possible also.

The people of free society and reason
or those who going out from ruling prison 
appreciated choice and initiation
and marvelously transformed own identity
as those who  better controlled  themselves and government,
they hoped for only for freedom  and own diligence
and make wonders gradiently
 under the hand of free market  invisible and patiently.

And what do you say about authoritarian and enslaved nation,
there are all people depended from will of corrupt  guidelanes ,
where freedom, honesty and choices  in total deficit?
Poor citisens there  mentally downgraded
early or later hardened and stoned  their souls  to anthracite
for surviving  in  merciless  and no free  circumstances.   
That was a clearly answer
for such sorts of  questions -
why people somewhere so kind and gentle
and somewhere not?


The Slovenly Slovene

In an attempt to establish an uncertain linkage between 2 parables,
Ivo Torena resorted to impress his colleagues all night long; hence,
awkward as a cow on a crutch, he was cowed into pilfering bananas,
and when he was caught red-handed by the deputy, his eyes showed
no response even though his arteries were friendly. Thus, a series of
tribulations took place inside his troubled mind for outlandish
reasons, and his whereabouts were commended by one of the top
enemies of the state: The twerp from Antwerp. On a serious note,
a cabal of notorious hotshots devised an agenda to unnerve Ivo
until the cow comes home. Still and all, Torena has a truly unique
composure, unlike the belligerent Belgian, and his mannerisms
can't be reciprocated with ease. Furthermore, the notoriety with
which he prattled and sprattled was momentous! His uneventful
birth can't hold a candle to any cinematographic invention although
his water bottle company is a candle in the wind and the pieces
begin to assemble duly without second thoughts whatsoever.
© Ivor Kos  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Something To Say

In an old briefcase
capsuled for years in a corner
of the shed, I found a rolled up wad
of poems, stalled, still looking 
for something to say, frozen 
in a futile gasp for air. 
I should have thrown 
them away. 

There was also an old plane ticket,
a beer coaster from an Antwerp cafe,
and a few photographs taken
from a bridge across a canal
in Bruges with three nuns wearing
starched white cornettes 
stretched out like enormous
butterfly wings perched atop
of their heads.

And tucked in a side pocket,
were letters from my mother
written more than thirty years ago.
Long dead, I could almost hear 
her voice read each word.
In one, she told me how 
she scored an A for English 
in the HSC exam she sat 
when well into her sixties.
She could recite Frost's  "Birches" 
off the top of her head. Stevens, 
for her, made no sense. Mum liked
plain language pared down
to bone.

I am not sure why I am writing
these words about such 
middling matters, much less trying 
to shape them into poetry. 
No matter. 
Sometimes just ordinary things,
like those found in an old briefcase,
seem to find a moment
to have something to say, 
at least for me.

Travel To Argentina

The Voyage 

The big seagull sat on the bow of my rowing boat 
                                   on my way to Argentina and Rosita,
which I never met she had married guitar player-
had unfriendly eyes ready to peck my eyes out.                   
                                   I regretted my heroism.
I wanted to go to Argentina because of its pampas
Beautiful horses and also to be famous for the voyage
                                  I was picked up by a merchant ship
it was actually going the wrong way docked in Antwerp
                                  Free beer for the, would be the hero.
I got a job on an old steamer bound for Argentina.
                                
                                 Buenos Aires,
A City with so many beautiful women it took a long 
before I got my stead looking for the tree of wisdom.
                                 I found it burning in the night
the Gauchos were feeling cold and set fire to the tree.
                                 What matters is the journey 
which is a fine sentence to cover for absolute failure.


That's if you want your soul

Providence rode,
I land
On the island
To learn its code
Of conduct, as
taught by Mr. Rhodes,
emeritus professor of jazz,
etiquette & odes

He says it's like an
Amorphous Z,
a
venomous ignominy
that obfuscates your
vexilology
& depletes its logic,
tantalizing a tarantula
with ubiquitous uppity.
It's the maximum malfeasance,
that not even the twerp from Antwerp
can't tolerate
& you've to wait
& weight
like a nincompoop;
only to finally realize
that it's not real ice!
where it was now saying the end & over the
loudspeaker
'cause you've got the upper hand
mortified & mired in mustard...
& we'll stop this last snow soon as it gets here 'cause
I don't know... how
vindictive vultures vituperate my vitality,
but i do know why 
Providence rode,
On the island
where we learn to code
with such a bland
lack of malice
But amidst the wonders of this digital tapestry,
you savor the licorice;
that's why nobody was pulling them 2 down &
whopping
like a cartel in Lemuria,
like a gland goading glaciers,
'cause you've to UNDERSTAND
what happens down under. Stand
for vociferous vehemency once
& for all! Providence will dance
& now you know it's your chance
to allow your true self to enhance
& take me back to Montpelier
where I belong, "why they hell there?"
you ask. 'Cause in this heat
you' II get the slice of poison
you always craved,
the mental perturbation
you always cherished,
where cultures entwine, in a dance profound.
let's make profligacy & prolocution abound,
because only you've the right to control
your mind. 
                     That's if you want your soul.
© Ivor Kos  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Clerihew Vg Bio

Vincent Willhelm van Gogh
a difficult talent to truly know
unwise love choices-Eugenie Kee&Sien
made him stick to brush not pen

Finance support from brother Theo
loosed his giftings to flow
in dark landscapes&still life
too bad,  without a  wife

From Ecole de Beau Arts a matric
In Antwerp he creates his pics
Then to Paris to mix with the best
lived an artist  life with great zest

Upon the death of Pa Theodorus
Vincent does portraits&busts
as his love life to Margot ails
so also his pointillism fails

He then met Agostina Segatori
& a brief affair the world did see
An interest in all things Japanaise
then to Arles were the sun does blaze

The artists colony  was not a success
Vincent cut off an -ear-but I digress
progressively VG became deluded
'a mad redhead,'the locals said

Genius & delusion marries as one
but a recognisable usp is done
with broad brush& wavy line
a reputation to outlast his time

In Arles he is hospitalised
&unique art realised-
then with a gun suicides
on canvas though his genius resides

Premium Member Freezing To Death Might Be Easier

Patrasche loved being a rescue dog in his youth
husky with one blue eye, one brown eye and a curled tail
his reputation was solid; he could track an owl’s beak
older now, he felt the frost and ice in his bones tonight

His master had asked him to track Nello, a young boy
It would have been truly easy most nights, but this was not most nights
Antwerp was covered with frost and ice
Patrasche’s paws kept flailing out, he was skating on this stuff

It was past midnight now. The town was dark, even with the snow
Tavern signs were creaking with age, Patrasche could relate
Come on, boy, I know we are close. This was Paul, his owner.
Patrasche’s knees were arthritic, he was older and tired.

He thought this might be his last rescue.
If we find Nello, all will be well, he told himself.
His knees did not believe him.
Freezing to death might be easier tonight.
Patrasche had heard that freezing was a sweet death.

Oil Port

An oil port

He is looking on to shore and sees an oil terminal
waiting for the pilot, he may arrive today or tomorrow.
Well he is not going ashore at this Arab port it is 
usually boring full of men smoking water pipes talking
excitedly about the next revolution and he knows 
as a white man, he viewed with suspicion.
He never understood a culture where women are cattle
sit indoors and wait to be pregnant again.
This is a society of men, and as such, they make a mess
of daily life.
It takes 12 hours to load the ship with crude oil, bound
for Antwerp, which is more like the home he understands 
the people there can have a beer in a bar and not starred 
at with hatred.
Mind, he knows well the white people have done much
harm in this part of the world, nevertheless he dislikes
their culture, but he doesn´t care to understand them.

Remembering a Dog

Remembering a dog


When I was young and for us not rich there was
navy academia you could learn engineering, navigation 
and catering, with my eyesight I settled for catering
After going through the grades, I got a certificate that I was
a chief steward. a job which consisted of telling the cook what
to make, buying the food needed and to do the books.
The big tank ship, oh so beautiful, sailed from oil port to to
another oil terminal and boredom set in, I left the great ship
in Antwerp and after a week ashore I got a job 
on an old freighter going into every port, you could think of
I was in my element; this was a perfect ship.
The officers were not going anywhere, no one wore uniforms 
and bothered with titles.
On a French island, I have forgotten its name, a dog came onboard
unseen and since the storeroom was open it hid there
and I didn´t see it before we were on the open sea. 
I took the dog up to the old-man he liked the dog it had a home.
Months later, when I was on another ship my old ship was
tied up in front of us, the old-man was retiring taking the dog home, 
the new captain didn´t care for dogs.
The dog remembered me, and there was a lot of kisses and cuddles.
I'm sure the little dog had a long and happy life seeing
green grass and trees.

Premium Member Clerihew Metrys

Ironsmith Quentin Metrys
became a noted flemish
He painted both religious&sacrificial
funding the Antwerp school so special

Premium Member October 9th through the years

October 9 is  the 283rd day this year
In history many died and she'd tears
1594  Portuguese empire defeated in Sri Lanka
Bringing an end to the campaign of danture 

1604 kepplers supernova found in the milky way
Who says you need modern science today
The swedes defeated in 1708
Battle of lesnaya won by Peter the Great

At least 1000 ethnic Chinese natives killed in Batvia
1740 Dutch colonist started this massacre
1806 prussia starts war with France
Throughout the years you can see wars at a glance

In 1834 the first public railway opened in Ireland
1847 slavery abolished in Swedish colony
No more children orphaned
The people having more life quality

1900 the cook islands became a uk territory
1911 the Wuchang uprising against the Quing Dynasty
1914 The siege of of antwerp comes to an end
1918 Prince frederick Charles offered throne of Finland

The next few years see many massacres and assanations 
It's as though the world was under fascination
In reality it brought loss, death and hatred
No-one realising that being alive is sacred

1980 Pope John Paul the second meets the dalai lama
Hopefully the world will become calmer
1981 capital punishment abolished in France
Finally someone taking a positive stance

But alas wars are still declared and lives lost
Decisions made by people who try to boss
The world being destroyed by the human race
Remember we are visitors and can open the case

We need to protect this planet where we reside
Think about futer generations don't hide
Stand up and be counted
Keep this planets peace firmly mounted

Premium Member Clerihew Wueluwe

Hendrick van Wueluwe
a master of Frankfurt was he
He developed a new artistic style
lived around Antwerp for a while

Europe

The collectors' job is to get the drugs out of the container
and away from the docks,from where they will be transported
to Amsterdam, Germany, Poland, Holand, Lithuania, Latvia,
Estonia, Finland and other parts of Europe.Over 150 tons of
illegal drugs were seized by French authorities in 2022 and
with it comes unprecedented drug violence in Belgium and
the Netherlands,whose ports of Antwerp and Rotterdam,
respectively,have become the main gateways for Latin American
cocaine cartels into the continent.In Belgium,the justice minister
is forced to live in a safehouse,out of reach of drug gangs.
Note.Drug Lords are powerful, strong, and dangerous.

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