Best Austria Poems
I remember the dream of Austria
As the war for me was finally closing
High in my turret upon the Sherman
I entered this mountain paradise at last
Until I reached the earthly gates of hell
Within those eyes I found despair
That spark of life long dead
Their hearts filled of solitudes poison
Muted voices no longer calling out
Thousands of souls starving for hope
Existing amongst corpses who had lost it
Now just shadows of the once proud
Crushed by tyranny simply because they “were”
Empty men drifting about lost in a miring haze
Praying for the peace only death grants
So very few seemed to hold onto humanity
They had nothing to fear because all was lost
As I stood at the hells gates called Mauthausen
In that moment I found the truest of evils
Under the threshold of Hades a toxoid of hatred
Not truly comprehending what my eyes spoke
Numbed in fears I never knew subsisted within me
Standing frozen I wanted nothing more than to run
As the shell of that crying man fell in my arms
I am haunted by his words…”godheid bedanken”
My faith transfused giving him a moments hope
Within those high peaks of the songs of paradise
I lost my soul at the gates of a concentration camp
Every night since I hear his voice thanking God
He called us the wrath and thunder of reckoning
But…I was just a boy with rifle searching for a respite
A lightning collision
The train wreck born of mountain side
A thick black Eden held as a chalice in the far
Reservoirs of each moon high star-flung eye
Braught to the corners as an incident
Of which to rubberneck could capture a soul or
More to the point an unopened envelope
Spilling out as vivisected loveloss
To drop a cold shoulder and sink a battled hip
Lay back harsh as punishment and
Dream of Austria, thinking only of holding breaths and randez-vous
A Dresden path of idolic traverse platform
Where flittered cold and godless
Rather as Lillith would have persuaded
The chill is consuming as a scavenger
The stone cold floor as dead as bone and aching
Slamming an axe upon a grind and
Piece by piece as a jigsaw slipping
Hand into hand as monevolence and urge
Often thoughts carry to Austria
And stumble back as glare and corruption
By the rivers of a white beer flowing
And a casual breeze of bare flesh
Dreaming of Austria and arching the crook of a collar bone
Framed completely and wishing to be black-hole consumed
Held as a foetus and casually reborn like winter of each year.
Brexit Sonnet No. 41
‘Austria, not Australia!’
I’m Mad to the Max, brimmed full with deep disgust.
So who’s on the bike and who’s in the car with the grunt?
Who’s the guy that is good, is it he that is heavily trussed,
Or shot in the leg, or dragged down the road for a stunt?
This violent dystopian vision we’ve seen acted out,
Let’s not play it for real with choices we now have to make.
No leather clad hero our Minister with Exiting shout,
His workaday car, no vibrating V8 doth shake.
Rockatansky’s our man, whilst beastly beast doth prowl,
This Brexit Road, paved not with gold, but hate.
So maybe Mad Max is not our future foul.
So dear Uncle Max, tell now of future fate?
‘Your Sound of Brexit Music will end just like mine,
In a world maxed on evil, where the sun omits to shine.’
©Keith Murphy
My wife and I return from our honeymoon, and what do we see?
There is a new regime that is overrunning my country.
I have the terrible feeling another war will begin.
It will be started by those goose stepping morons from Berlin.
I have been given orders to report to Bremerhaven.
A commission in the Third Reich’s navy I must begin.
After we appear at the Salzburg Festival tonight,
Maria, the children, and I must take flight.
We cannot stay around to collect the top prize.
Our escorts will receive a most unwelcome surprise.
I have every intention of disobeying the issued order.
My wife, children, and I will be across the Swiss border.
Inspired by the 1965 film “The Sound of Music”
Austria, you refresh my spirit like dew refreshes the earth
The flowers of the field are glorified in your country.
Your snow falls so silently as God imparts,
Yet it is only music to my heart.
Give my mind a grandeur, for you are nature’s fine art
Austria, you are the steady beat of a living drum- I am spent and free.
The joy you give makes me higher than any star, more magnificent than any sea.
I await your dawn, but my thoughts linger me awake.
My patience fails me for the desire to inhale your rich wind as it traverses through my entire being,
Illuminating every stitch of my spirit into a beautiful revealing.
Austria, my Austria, your rolling river takes a breath,
You make my eyes pure, and I feel blessed.
Austria, my Austria, your sky boasts its beauty, inspired by Heaven.
Vigor of my youth new,
Your sky colored with thousand shades of blue.
Purple hilltops covering the sky,
Nature’s gifts you cannot buy.
Nature’s crown, much have you created, much designed,
Thoughts never imagined, my Soul is completely purified.
You bestow a wondrous magic toward all humankind.
God, bring me back to her organic aid.
Back under her fur tree where I sang and prayed.
To relive my memories of Austria’s green shade.
The singer sings a serenade to Austria,
You sit mesmerized at his handsome appearance,
His kind ways enrapture you,
He carries a love for humanity with him,
The mountains in the background strong and bold,
To climb them, you caress every moment,
The fields of wild flowers, a walk through paradise.
God's blessings on a beautiful day,
The wisdom of a poet, strong and enduring.
The gentle snowflakes on a winter's day.
Skiing with excellence and conquering the mountain,
Friends and companions that accompany you wherever you go,
God's blessing revealed, a miracle that you are learning to comprehend,
The song a way of communicating love for mankind and God.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
I wrote a poem years ago.
The content alludes me and its theme.
I recall It was written in Innsbruck Austria.
I was writing it while I ordered a dry martini;
they brought me the whole damn bottle
together with a huge bill!
I was young and trying hard to be sophisticated,
my German may have confused the wait-staff.
I paid up
then took the bottle back to the hotel.
Now I was left with no money left to eat
and I really loved the Vienna schnitzel.
The poem was not about all this at all,
I just remember I was very hungry
and the martini did not help.
Hi, Migrants of Syria,
We welcome you to Austria,
The country which you come through,
It is in the middle of Europe too.
Take it for granted we treat you
With respect, yes, we really do.
We help you and give you support,
"Asylum" is the keyword.
We will make your wishes come true,
This country is safe, we will shelter you.
Your children will get education
And the grown up population
We send straight on to university,
Where you can study for free.
This is our special offer to you,
This chance never happens before for true.
We treat you with priority,
All you need to live here is free.
Austria goes a different way,
For you must be happy today,
Tomorrow it will be too late,
So we opened for you every gate.
We offer you special programs.
Please be so kind and take your chance.
You will never regret your decision,
This is the Austrian welcome mission.
We are human as human can be,
We Austrian plea for humanity.
Some treat you like animals anywhere,
Believe us we sigh and say shame on their.
Dangerous is the long way to Europe,
Longing for shelter in freedom to hope.
Some of yours were dying ashore,
Plenty of tears are running for sure,
Children were drowned in the sea,
Do not take rubber boats we plea,
Keep away from Refugee smugglers,
They are very dangerous liars.
We have packed welcome parcels today
Which will be given to you on your way.
(©) by Brigitte L. C. Waldner
Have wonderful days in Austria,
until the war is over in Syria.
Enjoy your life and adore
what you can get. We give you more
as we have for ourselves.
We wish you the best, appreciate our helps.
Just try to be happy and rest,
as long as each of you is our guest.
We hope the Syrian war will be over soon,
and there will be a new sunshine and moon
to live there again and in peace without crime
with children who are happy in their school time
to study and play and have lots of fun,
not being in danger of a bad gun,
but being prepared for better life
with working in freedom and dancing jive.
© Brigitte L. C. Waldner
The flight to Austria with the teachers,
We shared accomodation when we landed.
I signed up for ski lessons instead taking a tour of Salzburg.
Two weeks of lessons and we were destined to ski the highest mountain in Austria.
The Patscherkoepfle was the tallest mountain in Austria,
I said I am only skiing halfway,
We went to a restaurant, a friend and I, had a delicious lunch with our instructor,
I would travel dressed in my red hat and red ski sweater and black ski slacks and boots.
Skis on my back and i walk to the mountain for classes.
After we would go for a glass of wine.
I bought a beautiful dirndl, which they wear in Austria,
Two beautiful pictures for my parents, which they put in their hallway.
What good memories I have of this trip,
I thank God for the good memories.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
LORD, this morning, thank you. This SONnet will please, tease, release:
I greet thee, having access to Your throne by Jesus
And His sacrifice on Calvary: We pray against the Virus
With a sunshiny name, an aura of a name, garland ...
Coronoa Virus, COVID VIRUS, or SARS-Cov-2, Thy Hand
Is mighty and righteous, always Righteous, even in judgment
We deserve judgment, but we ask for Mercy
God of Grace and Love, forgiveness and Provisioning
Forgive me my greed, envy, jealousy, smallness and scheming
I intercede for others now, nations and peoples, as Moses & Joshua
Afghanistan, guide, teach, help Afghanistan and leaders there
Argentina, guide, teach, help Argentina and leaders there
Algeria, Austria, Albania, Australia: help them all, guide its Premiers
All of us deserve judgment, we asked for it in many ways, but forgive!
Alfonse Walde* of Kitzbuhel descent
an artist of the Secessionist bent
Up the Hannenkam often did stroll
painting scenes of his beloved Tyrol
*1891-1958
“It is too late to shut the stable door when the steed is stolen.”
~ From John Heywood’s A Dialogue Containing the Number in Effect of All the Proverbs in the English Tongue (1546)
“When the well’s dry, we know the worth of water.”
~ From Ben Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac (1746)
My mission is to go back to eighteen-seventy-nine.
I’ve been authorized to repair history’s design.
Luckily, I’ve been trained on a Woody’s Time Machine,
and granted poetic license, fate to intervene.
I’ve set the dial to Braunau am Inn, near the border
of Bavaria and Austria. I must prevent disorder.
I’ll play with history’s chessboard, move a couple pawns,
and introduce Klara Polzl to a man named Franz.
Franz needed a housekeeper, and Klara fit the bill.
So, until pigs fly, which they never did and never will,
Klara wouldn’t work for Alois. They’d not have a son,
and the world would be spared what their young Adolf had done.