Best Frankfurt Poems
in a dusty old Amsterdam attic
Anne Frank finds refuge
outside the menacing Gestapo
seeks wordsmiths to persecute
Anne adds another page to her diary
memories of Frankfurt
blurred by pains of hunger and fear
her pursuits tempt Gestapo
if Anne played an instrument or sang opera
She’d be saved merely to entertain
fear makes her a prisoner of the pen
starving artists in hiding leaning on each other
seeking strength to continue
but Anne is alone
are more souls needed for the death camps
must writers trade pens for weapons
late is the hour as Anne's eyes strain to stay open
as she drifts off, the attic’s doorknob turns
Categories:
frankfurt, cute, fear, history, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Simon started playing wheelchair basketball,
Aged twelve at a school community project,
And under coach Ian Laker accepted the call,
To play with London Titans so as to connect.
In 2008 he debuted at the Beijing Paralympics,
He and the GBR squad won the bronze medal,
And in 2009 they won with World Cup phonetics,
5th in the 2010 World Cup Championship pedal.
In 2013 at the Frankfurt European Champs,
Simon and his GBR team struck the top gold,
And then in 2015 at more European Champs,
Simon & co won yet another sparkling gold.
In Rio de Janeiro at the Paralympic Games,
The GBR basketball squad collected bronze,
A triumph for such an elite contest, no games,
Where the best is given by first class scions.
Categories:
frankfurt, basketball, sports, strength,
Form:
Quatrain
The Fellow From Frankfurt
There was an old man from Kentucky
At his age he still would get lucky
The old ladies would swoon
As he used the spittoon
He was spry as a boy and quite plucky!
Scary Mary
There once was a woman named Mary
Who was known for her legs being hairy
She did not own a razor
But this didn't faze her
She would just braid her shins and act scary!
How Ya'll Doin'?
There was a young man from Savannah
Who spoke in a quite genteel mannah
Honey dripped from his mouth
Course he was from the South
Only one heard him right was his nana
Categories:
frankfurt, funnyold, old,
Form:
Limerick
At the age of 17 Ian broke his back,
In a motorbike accident, had rehab,
He then worked for a w/c company,
Who showed him w/c basketball fab.
For 3 years he played in the club,
Of the Sheffield Steelers, and then,
He transferred to the Tameside Owls,
To join the British team of deft men.
In 2009 at the European Champs,
Ian and team won the bronze, Turkey,
And then in Israel at more Europeans,
,2011, the team collected gold monkey.
In 2013 at the Europeans in Frankfurt,
The basketball team won the lush gold,
Then in 2015 in Worcester, East Sussex,
He rolled his team into another gold.
So when Rio came they were ready,
And took the bronze from Turkey, 82-76,
Ian was born in Barnsley a 3 pointer,
On the 29th March 1982, quick sticks.
Categories:
frankfurt, basketball, sports, strength,
Form:
Rhyme
Ade is a 2.5 wheelchair basketball player,
Who was born in Lagos in Nigeria in 1978,
His home town is Liverpool, a Mersey sayer,
In Spain club BSR Amiab Albacete is a date.
He lives partly in London, joined the Bullets,
And he’s travelled with the sport worldwide,
German, Italian, Israeli and South Korean sets,
Sunshine is his normality to love and abide.
In 2003 at the Europeans in Sassari in Italy,
Ade and his basketball team won the bronze,
And in 2005 at more Europeans, Paris’s sway,
The GB squad came second with silver cons.
Then in 2007 at the World Champs, Germany,
A silver was wrought, and in Beijing in 2008,
TeamGB won a bronze to the podium occupy,
And in 2011 a gold fell, Isreali Euro freight.
2013 and TeamGB won the Euros, Frankfurt,
2015 they won another Euro gold, Worcester,
So in 2016 at Rio Ade contributed to support,
His team to add a bronze to this large cluster.
Ade was jailed by Liverpool Crown Court,
For claiming over £33000 of state benefits:
Housing, council tax benefit, income support,
In 2009 he spent six months with jail slits.
Categories:
frankfurt, basketball, sports, strength,
Form:
Quatrain
THE OLD GERMAN PROBLEM
The burghers of Hamburg are themselves usually Hamburgers, so there!
The burghers of Frankfurt are themselves usually Frankfurters, it‘s only fair!
But it’s possible to meet Frankfurter Hamburger burghers
And you can also find Hamburger Frankfurter burghers
Hamburger burghers can eat hamburgers, a delicious dish
And Frankfurter burghers can eat frankfurters, if they wish
But hamburgers can be made in Frankfurt: they are not horrible
And frankfurters can be made in Hamburg : it is easily possible
So Frankfurter burghers can eat Hamburger frankfurters, with salt
And Hamburger burghers can eat Frankfurter hamburgers, without halt
No doubt Frankfurter burghers can also eat Frankfurter frankfurters, ‘sright
And Hamburger burghers can also eat Hamburger hamburgers all night
But what puzzles me, and maybe you too, God knows,
Is what to make of these German guys who like to eat as follows:
Frankfurter Hamburger burghers eating Hamburger frankfurters
Or Hamburger Frankfurter burghers eating Frankfurter hamburgers
Too complicated? Ok, try a piece o’ Pisa Pizza.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTES
Hamburger : adjective derived from Hamburg, or a meat dish named after the city
Frankfurter : adjective derived from Frankfurt, or a meat dish named after the city
Burgher : old-fashioned name for a city citizen
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
*Entered in no contest, because no one has organized
a silly GERMAN FOOD contest yet.
** I am aware that some geographical zealots object to my poems on gastronomical grounds, and some gastronomical zealots object to them on geographical grounds. My apologies to all.
Categories:
frankfurt, food,
Form:
Light Verse
I went to the Frankfurt Book Fair the other day.
It was mind-boggling..
Books! There were fat books, thin books,
White books, black books, tawny books,
Paperbacks, hardbacks, beautifully bound books,
Pure books, lax books, learned books, lay books,
Plain books, books of many colours,
Books on every subject under the sun,
Not to mention other books on
Distant galaxies, pulsars, quasars, black holes,
Books on any theme you can think of,
Or on themes you can’t even pronounce, from:
Art to Arthropods,
Bees to Biochemistry,
Cats to Catastrophes
Drugs to Decadence,
Energy to Ergonomics,
French Cooking to Frescos,
Guns to Gout,
History to Hippopotami,
Internal Medicine to Icebergs,
Julius Caesar to Justification,
Kulturkampf to Kinetics
Lace to Logogriphs,
Man to Manchuria,
Nietzsche to Nonsense Rhymes,
Opera to Ophthalmoscopes,
Poodles to Pollution,
Quantum Mechanics to Queen Victoria,
Russell to Rabbits,
Shaw to Shingles,
Tao to Torts,
Urdu to Ultimatums,
Virgil to Vivisection,
Whales to Witchcraft,
X-rays to Xylographs,
Yoga to Youth Hostels,
Zen to Zola,..
By closing-time my legs were giving out.
A voice, it seemed, was saying:
“Of more than is taught by these, my son, take care.
Of making many books there is no end,
And much study is weariness of the flesh.”
I don’t know about making them, I thought,
As I commenced my get-away from the Penguin stand,
But it takes something of an athlete just to glance at them.
I felt crushed, not only by the crowds
but also by the weight of my appalling ignorance.
Categories:
frankfurt, bible, books, strength,
Form:
Acrostic
Boston is for leaving.
Torgau is for brothers
Weimar is for mourners.
Dresden is for lovers.
Leipzig is for players.
Meissen is for Sisyphus.
Frankfurt is for patience.
Berlin is for the two of us.
Ride the bus down,
board the flight across the earth.
fly "der Flug nach Deutschland"
and hold on for what it's worth.
Categories:
frankfurt, adventure, education, friendship, happiness,
Form:
A rose poem
A walking cobbler came to Yasmin valley
That had a small brook with swimming ducks
Even though, since everyone wore clogs
He decided to settle down in this pleasant vale
The cobbler was educated in Frankfurt and
As we know the Germans are astute workers.
Recuperating after hitting his knee on a boulder
On a bed of Yasmin, he reclined and fed by maidens
Some inhabitants came to him with clogs as a gift
Exponentially happy he cried and was a happy man.
Categories:
frankfurt, adventure, age, allusion, america,
Form:
Blank verse
We flew out from Kirmington, Germany bound
To bomb Frankfurt, and the area around
One of a thousand planes that took to the air
Mine was a Wellington, assembled with care
I was a Flight Sergeant on the old R/T
Also an air gunner, yes that was me
We should have had six on board that night
Only five of us left to join that flight
The long journey out was cold but routine
Each of us checking his part of the machine
But once over the target, the flak was so bad
It instilled fear into this Italian lad
We dropped our bombs and turned for home
Split from the pack we are on our own
It’s nearly dawn as we cross over France
The enemy’s about, please give us a chance
Nearer and nearer we get to the French coast
To survive this run, we would boast
But an Eastbound 109 turned his guns our way
Fate was sealed; this was not our day
Badly we are hit, and losing height fast
Doubts arose if we would last
But faith in our skills kept that last hope alive
If only we knew we wouldn’t survive
We crashed in the sea just off the Le Harvre coast
It was that final dive I hated the most
Screaming and crying, our souls plead their case
All killed in action, and lost without trace
Categories:
frankfurt, war,
Form:
Rhyme
You traveled with me in a flash of thought.
Tanja called from Frankfurt on the Main.
She arrived in Germany; there was no one to meet her.
Let guide her together on her trip up the Rhine.
A friend is ill, please give him strength.
He is special, thoughtful and kind.
The twins-Stephan and Thomas skipped school.
Bless this day! Erase John Adams Junior High from my mind.
I should be in New York to take care of Martha.
Her first baby is due any time.
A home birth as such, I refuse to worry.
With you present, I know she is fine.
Herbert, for the firs time in love,
utters that his whole life is torn.
Putting the pieces together, he ties up the phone line
caring less, what time Martha's baby is born.
Edgar needs a ride home and I cannot drive.
I tell him to stay on the line until I let
the dog out the door.
Nobody understands Edgar and no one cares.
“What do you think a mother is for?”
Where would I be without you beside me?
I could not have coped with today.
Just one more favor!
My back is killing me, please do not go away.
Forget it!
I settle for the heating pad.
Categories:
frankfurt, children, baby, home, baby,
Form:
Free verse
I like Germany
I like the Germans
I have friends there
I worked for a time near Frankfurt
And I visit Berlin often
It’s my favourite city
They are nice people
Friendly and welcoming
They share our hopes
And our aspirations
We are so alike
We have always been alike
Well almost always
There were dark days
When they were seduced by evil
And let themselves down
So what happened?
What infected this nation?
This nation so like ourselves
How did the madness take them?
Why did they become inhuman?
Why did they set a new benchmark?
In their inhumanity
Why did the good people not rise up?
And oppose the evil
Why did they fail to stop it
Were the jews so bad
So unworthy of pity
Too worthless to be considered
For whatever reason it happened
They let it happen
The worst of them profited by it
The best of them turned a blind eye to it
But they were all guilty
And after the war
I think they felt the guilt
But they feel no guilt now
Now they try to hide behind a lie
Pretending it wasn’t really that bad
There were just a few bad men
And they are gone now
The Americans exaggerated everything
There were isolated incidents
No more than that
Let’s speak of it no more
Lest we offend Islam
Well Islam should be offended
As it was the Turks of the Ottoman empire
Who taught their German allies
The meaning of Holocaust
When they annihilated the Armenians
I say lets speak of it
Let’s never stop speaking of it
And if offence is caused, then so be it
If it prevents its like
From ever happening again
Categories:
frankfurt, war
Form:
ian had developed quite
the fetish for my prose we both
were quite taken why it was santa's eve
while we settled into the obvious café
outside a village near Frankfurt
sipping latte's and devouring raspberry tarts
blueberry skoan's deep in the forest
my mind wandered about the bavarian alps
thee snow capped mountains
as I doted on ian's long lankey legs
dangling almost in a pair of old levi's
we awaited the strausus to pull into port
why the morning dew nestled
gracefully over us on santa's eve
Categories:
frankfurt, christmas,
Form:
Blank verse
Packed up again,
Cedars and crescents in my carry-on,
A heart and soul in my suitcase…
The mattress on my bed is bare, save for a straw hat
Resting in the middle of it and a bottle of cologne
There are scrapes on the wall
And bits where the paint came off
The floor is littered with baggage, hardly a place to step
But the room feels empty… yet again
I’ll put my home under my hat
And take one last look at the faded curtains
Hanging over my windows
1:03 am
Last call on my cell phone: Grandpa
Last call on my cell phone: A leather pillow and apple vinegar
Last call on my cell phone: A school bus in the rain
Last call on my cell phone: A hug, a kiss and another suitcase
Last call for Mr. Bakhash… Please proceed to Gate 43…
Last call…
The airports are all the same
Frantic people, too busy to look back…
Confused children tailing their parents
Overpriced coffee, stale sandwiches… all too familiar
Heathrow, Starbucks…
Heathrow, Laptops…
Heathrow, iPods…
Heathrow, Crowds…
Heathrow, Empty
The airports are all the same…
Empty
Los Angeles, Frankfurt, Paris, Dubai, Beirut
Empty
Categories:
frankfurt, introspection, life
Form:
Free verse
The memory in need
Is the implacable enemy of the creed,
Waits and watches its foe
The all-clawing frenzy on tip-toe;
Quiescent in the instant's repose
The thud of flurried gnawing years evoke.
The poet in his solitary moments, spoke
Those whispered words, memory's secret ear yoke.
His wares, his scares, ailments and balms
Suddenly at the oasis of his thirst, awoke
Transilluminating the hard wad of his private notes,
Clutching at the infant's murmurous innocence
The clear innocuous dogma of cries;
While his immodestly preened notes of travesty
Hark back; and the first poem playfully struck
Teaches him now too late the laugh, the critic's qualms.
Just as the poet had wandered away from childhood,
So will the child thwart the unspoilt man
And shyly, shyly he turns away from the poet
Coming in like a stray camp-follower to brood.
For who may ask which the supreme poet
The child's sweet ineffable musings disrespect
While language etherises meanings proudly sown:
The title in two is halved - one the art, one, lone.
And the man, memory's ill-begotten infant
Lurking round the corner, pranks the urgent moment
Or two - then restores the poet to the poem.
© T. Wignesan, 1957 - First pub. in "Diskus", University of Frankfurt-am-Main, 1960 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
Categories:
frankfurt, on writing and words,
Form:
Free verse