Best Berlin Poems
this non conformist city
breathes a calm but edgy air
through gaps in the graffiti
and the street art everywhere
its face is sometimes brutal
but its heart and soul seem not
and it walks a sexy diverse walk
that’s cold yet somehow hot
(but I know I’m getting older
when those fun thoughts in my head
reject the swinging KitKatClub
for KitKat bars instead)
and all those wearing AirPods
sipping hot drinks on the go
pass tourists taking boat trips
slowly going with the flow
while the 'high tea' of a bratwurst
served from food trucks on the street
is eaten at tall tables
en plein air without a seat
and just like high end stores at home
the windows dress up nice
displaying bling that's priceless
- as it’s shown without its price
note too that no one jaywalks here
by crossing roads at will
not even during rush hour
when the traffic’s standing still
and when it comes to bridges
here’s a fact that crossed my mind:
there are more here than in Venice
and in Amsterdam combined
and by saving time by taking trams
that move berlin about
we spent time taking time in parks
where locals take time out
while the aiming and the shooting
by the wall towards the west
was just us aiming cell phones
shooting selfies with the rest.
but the death camp films and clothes we saw
of the many that were killed
brought tears that drowned a silence there
for the blood that humans spilled
and I cannot start to comprehend
the minds of those who kill
and just because I went there
- and just because I stood there
- and just because I wrote this
doesn’t mean I ever will.
Wild galloping horse
Berlin nineteen forty-five
Hoof pounding the Earth
10/01/17
The swirls of freedom’s fervent dreams
On canvas raised in bitter cold
Upon oppression’s wall of screams
A city severed at its seams
Gleaned comfort in art’s bright console
The swirls of freedom’s fervent dreams
Beyond the walls, a feared regime
With liberty, in stern control
Upon oppression’s wall of screams
The inside; vibrant colors gleam
Expressions brushed of angst, unfold
The swirls of freedom’s fervent dreams
The gray outside; true evil’s scheme
With barbs of wire ensnaring souls
Upon oppression’s wall of screams
A palisade of painted streams
Immersed in thought – cascading bold
The swirls of freedom’s fervent dreams
Upon oppression’s wall of screams
~~16 Mar 2016~~
Note –During the later stages of the cold war, the West Berlin
side of the Berlin Wall was an unrestricted outlet for graffiti
artists to express the freedom absent on the other side.
Remnants of wall shelter
from westerly monsoon
city fox finds food
I had been studying to make Sergeant,
And was scheduled for the afternoon promotion board.
To get some practice and test the waters,
I volunteered for the morning's Soldier Of The Month Board.
The Battalion recently had been given
A ticket for the well-known Berlin Orientation Tour.
During the in-brief, the Battalion Commander
Said the ticket would go to the soldier with the highest score.
As luck would have it, I won;
Beating out by a quarter of a point a Staff Sergeant.
Not only was I going to Berlin for a week,
I was recommended to be promoted to E-5 Sergeant.
The Berlin Orientation Tour didn't count as leave;
As it was considered Permissive Temporary Duty (PTDY).
Riding the duty train to West Berlin
We had to keep all the windows shaded through East German territory.
The Wall had already come down by then,
But the Soviets were still occupying East Germany.
As a group we toured a modern museum
Documenting how some East Germans had escaped to be free.
One day we passed through Checkpoint Charlie,
And saw the Soviet monuments and troops in East Berlin.
I collected pieces just chipped off the Berlin Wall
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin.
Life can turn on simple decisions;
I, myself, am proof that life can even be given a start based on the same.
My father rode into Germany at the end of World War II,
His mission: to help clean up the mess that war can leave behind.
His kismet came in the form of Germanic blue eyes
accompanied by a coquettish smile
atop a feminine form with an intelligent mind.
Paperwork was his excuse not to join his platoon on a trip to the outskirts of town;
The real reason was to chase a skirt he was mesmerized with in town;
What his fellow soldiers saw in the first discovery of a German Concentration Camp, scarred them for life;
My father was spared that horror and that trauma to his soul that may have made it impossible for him to fall in love with my mother that afternoon.
Were it not for his lame excuse;
Were it not for the chance to try out his newly learned German on a beautiful girl in a beaten down city in a defeated country;
I would not be typing these words in the autumn of my blessed life.
There would be no author to pen this tale,
No tale to tell,
Had that young soldier performed his duty that day
instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin.
Written and posted on 1/12/2016 for the "Last Line Prompt" contest.
I have come to a city that is an island;
Though waters are not the boundaries, you understand.
It is an oasis in the midst of bondage for those who are free.
And, I know it must be some intense form of sheer hell for those who
from the other side can see.
I saw a little sparrow transgress the huge, solid barrier that divides this city.
I could not help but think that the sparrow comes and goes as freely as the winds –
But the people could not; what a pity!
Well, people are not sparrows and sparrows cannot be people – but what if they could be!
Then, a wonderful thought entered my mind; those who wanted freedom could just fly here, you see.
Well, that’s just a fantasy and that barrier is cold hard reality.
It is a very sickening and sad monument to humanity.
I can, at best, only speculate how it must feel to be totally controlled;
Unable to go where you want to go, be what you want you be, or just to do
the things you like to do; but only to do as you are told!
What form of insanity created this graffiti-riddled barrier they call the “WALL?”
Someone must know and someone must stop it before it destroys us all!
Because, I know this form of insanity must still be with us today;
And, I believe it will only depart us when that ugly wall is torn away.
Then, all the peoples of Berlins would be free;
Just like that little sparrow I did see.
Cold and calculated
Assassain in the night
A diplomat of the faded
Never wrong; never right
Thousand-mile stare
The way she feels the ghost
It happened here but not there
Away from crashes at the coast
Missing never meant-to-be’s
Lonely as the setting sun
Chaos is surrounding me
Way too scary to be fun
Heal this virgin flower
Dilated and Sedated
Hour after wasted hour
Kinda wish I hadn’t waited
Maybe time will truly tell
Counting time before I fall
Or Is it time to leave this hell?
Its time to climb that berlin wall
Was Ist Los? Oh, Nothing, Just the Berlin Airlift...
Berlin 1948-1952
You came into my life one summer's day
the beatnik of a Frauline, caring less
of what society might have to say
than seeking out your inner happiness;
those were the days! Berlin was in a bind
you still had all your tan from South of France
and in your hair, what flowers you could find
but not dressed out for love, it came by chance.
"What's going on?" you said, as our eyes met,
suggesting I might think the same as you,
you seemed just as surprised as I, and yet,
it seemed so natural, the bonding grew.
As freedom roared down from uncertain skies
love came into our world, from where love flies.
The roar of engines fell from overhead
as pilots dropped into that world of yours,
delivering your life--your daily bread,
to show you when it rains, it surely pours;
all your emotions mixed, I caught the feel
you had, that maybe life was fit to live,
you pinched yourself to see if it was real
and still the sky gave out all it could give.
The ships were ev'rywhere--hope made it's call
as my faint heart fell to the will of you,
der Kempf, 'twas ended then, once and for all,
and now you'd see what only love can do.
your question--was ist los--what's going on?
was answered in that break of early dawn.
BERLIN AIRLIFT .1948-49
You came into my life one summer's day
the beatnik of a Frauline, caring less
of what society might have to say
than seeking out your inner happiness;
those were the days! Berlin was in a bind
you still had all your tan from South of France
and in your hair, what flowers you could find
but not dressed out for love, it came by chance.
"What's going on?" you said, as our eyes met,
suggesting I might think the same as you,
you seemed just as surprised as I, and yet,
it seemed so natural, the bonding grew.
As freedom roared down from uncertain skies
love came into our world, from where love flies.
The roar of engines fell from overhead
as pilots dropped into that world of yours,
delivering your life--your daily bread,
to show you when it rains, it surely pours;
all your emotions mixed, I caught the feel
you had, that maybe life was fit to live,
you pinched yourself to see if it was real
and still the sky gave out all it could give.
The ships were ev'rywhere--hope made it's call
as my faint heart fell to the will of you,
der Kempf, 'twas ended then, once and for all,
and now you'd see what only love can do.
your question--was ist los--what's going on?
was answered in that break of early dawn.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Rome was always a playground for me,
Where lovely girls thronged around the streets:
The Fontana dei Trevi where people threw coins
Hoping they would revisit enchanting Rome,
Or on the Spanish stairs amid the delicate flowers
Exuding fragrant perfumes of purple roses,
Delicate dianthus or scented-leaf geraniums.
There she sat, alone upon one of the steep stairs,
Licking a vanilla ice-cream and sipping a lemonade.
We looked hard at each other and we both smiled
It was passionate attraction magnitude nine.
Who can escape the wonder of a sexy love?
Losing no time we went for a walk until soon
We were kissing on the ramparts of Rome,
Watching the sunset and making our erotic plans.
Her name was Helga and bound to leave next day,
To go back to her home in faraway Berlin.
“Come with me love, we’ll never part,” she crooned,
“We’ll drink plenty coffee in my Berlin.”
How could I miss an idyllic invitation like that?
Alas I knew full well I did not have the fare
To travel with my newly found goddess of love
To go far away, to live with her in West Berlin.
A plan was needed, if courage I had,
To go to the Parioli where the rich lived.
Surely it would be child’s play, I thought
To enter and help myself to a handful of wealth,
Just enough to accompany my love to Berlin.
Round a corner a stately darkened villa stood.
Should be a simple job to rifle the lot,
Assuming I could find an easy door unlocked.
I tiptoed in and hastened up the path.
Alas fortune was not on my side that day.
I heard the ominous sharp whistle of an alarm.
I turned and ran but the Doberman was quick
And bit my tender behind till it bled.
Soon I found myself in a nasty smelling ER,
With sutures repairing the nasty bite.
“Three days in bed, my boy,” the matronly nurse said.
“Rest face down for the wound to heal,
And keep the curtains drawn.” Thus snickering she left.
Helga departed forever more and I lay face down in bed
Crying from pain and cursing my bad luck,
Instead of making love in the city of Berlin.
Heard about the Berlin Wall
It made a rather horrid fall
It stood so tall in victory's palm
Everyone here is far from calm...
History has been made for the saddened days
Leaving no room for the crowd of joyous praise
It’s a tragedy that this wall came tumbling down
Now, they are like headless clowns with a frown
Stand tall now and get on the ball
You will not fall like the Berlin Wall
That wall got wrecked in a hurry…in a hurry…
It must have destroyed and gave many a injury
Heard about the Berlin Wall
It made a rather horrid fall
It stood so tall in victory's palm
Everyone here is far from calm...
Heard about the tragedy and chaos of it all
Makes me mad and sad as I walk this hall
Makes me think hope is little in these dark times
How many times do we have to put up with these crimes?
That strong Wall came tumbling down like the Wall of Jericho
It came down with many a mighty blow…what a shameful show
Stood so tall like a Knight in the night, shining bright with might
Delight will rise after the anguish of all will fall with a fall so contrite
Heard about the Berlin Wall
It made a rather horrid fall
It stood so tall in victory's palm
Everyone here is far from calm...
Heard about the innocent people dying, trying to get out of East Germany
Echoing their shouts, yearning about their long-loved, long-lost freedom
Wish I can mend their wounds and bring them back to life to set them free
They wanted it tremendously, can’t blame them…heard their attempts of running to safety, sounding like midnight drums…I hear their pleading hums…as the debris of the wall collapsed into the palm of oblivion that leaves our faith in humanity to useless crumbs
Prayers for the deaths of oh so many
Prayers for the restoration and plenty
Heard of the tragedy and it made me upset
Hope the men who started this attack feel regret
Heard about the Berlin Wall
It made a rather horrid fall
It stood so tall in victory's palm
Everyone here is far from calm...
Their destructive, avarice ways
Will lead them awfully astray
Well, these unpromising days
Has hardly anything better to say
In 1989 I rode the duty train with covered windows across the East German countryside, forewarned not to look outside. I arrived in that island of freedom, which was surrounded by oppression, tyranny, and more tank divisions than NATO had in all their armies combined. Kids were hammering pieces off the Wall and giving them to tourists; I pocketed a few a boy gave me. Passing through Checkpoint Charlie, I saw my first live Russian soldiers, guarding their monuments from what they referred to as the Great Patriotic War. Their goosestep style of marching was slower than the Nazis from forty-five years before, but just as menacing in its precision--perhaps even more so, with that arrogant hesitation when their boots reached the highest point. Before seeing East Berlin, communism and socialism were just words with an uneasy threat implied....but afterwards
The Wall had come down,
But the Russians were still there.
Lost in history.
No way in
No way out
I feel like a prisoner in my own country
American Berlin wall is what I call it
It's funny how the past repeats itself
Man kind selfish acts is like killing a bird with a stone
stone bird killer
stone bird killer
stone bird killer
stone bird killer
go ahead and cast the first stone
because I know you don't care
I still feel like I have to fight for my
freedom even if I 'am free as bird that flies the pretty blue skies
I don't know what's going to happen when the American Berlin Wall goes up
They say it's for are protection
But protection from what
We still have gangs
we still have crime
We still have drug Lords running are communities
We still have drug trafficking
We still have human trafficking
So how are you protecting the people of United States
When you still have those situations inside the United States
Stone bird killer stop lying
about how you protecting the people of the United States about putting the wall up
When you can't even protected us from those situations now
Monkeys make the world go round
The world go round, the world go round
Monkeys make the world go round
They make the world go round.
Vervet, howler, capuchin
Marmoset or tamarin
Their ooking and their screaming sound
Can make the world go round.
Monkey-monkey-monkey-monkey
Monkey-monkey-monkey
Monkey-monkey-monkey-monkey
Monkey-monkey-monkey.