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Best Holocaust Poems

Below are the all-time best Holocaust poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of holocaust poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Holocaust poems, articles about Holocaust poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Holocaust poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...


New Holocaust Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Holocaust poems are below this new poems list.

A Nuclear Holocaust by Ellison, Jack
Evading the Horrors of the Holocaust by Roper, Eve
Holocaust at the Time by Flower, Moon
ALONE AT THE HOLOCAUST MUSEUM by Rodrigues, Kim
The Holocaust by johnson, curtis
The Holocaust by Kalishian, Talin
The Holocaust Museum by McGrath, Brenda
My Take On The Holocaust by Wings, Broken
Escape the Holocaust by Banks, Russell
THE HOLOCAUST by Grenness , Julie

View all new Holocaust Poems

The Best Holocaust Poems

 
Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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 | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Girl From Darfur

I can show you where the brimstone sun has no remorse,
and where devils on horseback, have burned our homes, have pillaged our farms.
A killing spree,   the drum of guns, some tried to flee, but died,... each one.
The screams, I dream! Oh, the cries........the cries....... 
I try to mute the sound of them
For...,  I was there, I hid in fear,  was somehow spared, but now I look for 
something, ...something, ...something, here, ...someone to care.
A bit of food, a bit of shade, such bitter taste is in my mouth
A world of hate. To have no shoes,...a walking ghost.....
a blistered soul, I have no hope....  but nothing, nothing left. 
My eyes are blurred, and fires burn, a heavy world, shouts out despair.

Where are the flowers that used to bloom, where are voices, that once I knew?
There are no flowers here...just flies, in waist-deep dust, and a hot orange sun,
that coughs up sounds of fear and guns, and swords and words against my ears, I 
live in fear with no one here. 
I'm just a girl,  or at least I was....    for just a while.

I was defiled, when found by one
He spared my life, but did not see, I'd rather die than be this girl, who feels the 
shame in being free.
I once had a mother, I once had a father, I once had a brother who made me smile
Where did spirits, lift and go, when the devils on horseback came to kill? Spilling 
blood as if for fun?  For thrill? For what? 
Where were the Gods? Where are the ones who turn their heads?
In desert's dust with blood red crust.  They poisoned our wells, burned out our land, 
ravished and raped, and relished their brand......, 
nomads came, leaving shame, evil and horror came like rain.
 
Janjaweed, the name, I cannot say... I live with shame, a world, insane
I try to sleep, but I cannot........I can't forget and I am lost, the cost too much,
a swollen tongue and calloused feet,  across a land of bleached white bones
Alone, alone,....lost and done...a vanished heart......no one sees me  
There are no flowers, there are no trees, 
Famine as my lone companion, a pool of mud a home to stay,
Life drains out more every day, my belly swells....my eyes are parched,
and I can't tell
if I'm alive, or if I'm dead, dried up tears are what I shed....
Where are the flowers for my head? I've been scorned, 
all I have, and all I see is wind and rain, sorrow and pain
thorns, and dust, and a grave, that waits for me



__________________________________________________
 8/28/2014
Devils on Horseback – The Darfur genocide (ongoing) The Janjaweed (translated, 
devils on horseback) slaughter and rape the women, men and children of Darfur. As 
of today, 480,000 people have been “exterminated” and 2.8 million displaced.

Let's not turn our heads away from this, or from other atrocities being committed 
throughout the world.


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014



Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

ALONE AT THE HOLOCAUST MUSEUM

ALONE AT THE HOLOCAUST MUSEUM

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

                        alone.

silence has a sound of its own.

yes, there was the film, my first exposure -

Kristallnacht – the night of broken glass

S
    H
A
            T
          T
                  E
                          R
                                        S

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

CLINKING CRYSTAL.

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

and they R E E K with death.

10/14/2016







Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2016

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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 | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Thing of Beauty

=================================

A thing of beauty on her wrist
was confiscated by a nurse
who looked for items soldiers missed
in places (and by means) much worse.

They branded her inside the camp,
a thing of beauty on her wrist
replaced by Hitler's horrid stamp,
a stinging band below her fist.

With seeming glee, the nurse had hissed,
"Thank me that you won't see the baths"
A thing of beauty on HER wrist
the gleaming fee of psychopaths

Now, she who bears the mark of war
lives free and wears her scar not with
remorse... it's more, at eighty-four,
a thing of beauty on her wrist...

========================





Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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



Notes:
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 | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Hope for Humanity

Just read a tale of 
   a horrendous murder in California
Makes one lose faith in humanity
My uncle saw the 
   death camps in 
Europe during World War ll
  Also shakes one's faith in humanity 
Yet, I believe 
  that out out of the 
        ashes 
a phoenix will appear 
    and fly upward 
and as it soars 
   it will sprinkle 
love dust 
   on those on the 
ground 
     and leave kindness 
and laughter 
   in its wake


Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2016

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

THEY DON'T KNOW

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 | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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


___________________________________________________
1/28/16   
Inspired by Contest: "A Last Line Prompt"
Sponsor: Julia Ward


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Poet's Apocolypse


After that moment a gray dust covers all Invading the senses, casting a veil of despair The prince of darkness will have his due Oh cry ye fools, of this hell be you aware.... And what of the poets with blood on their pens Huddled in dark corners, trying to understand Making rhymes for only the night wind to read In the end a homage of heart to a beloved land.....


Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 14

Despite his impatience to show me his hell,
He waited for me in my rest, 
Lying upon the ground, I awoke in prayer,
Thanking God above and asking Him for guidance

“My heart is Yours, always,
From the moment I gave breath,
To the darkened impasses of death
Forever glorifying Your name,
Thanking You for Your kindness,
Your creation, love and power
Your glory, Your victory
Lead me, oh Lord,
So I may not fall short in Your sight
Grant me generously Your Spirit,
And in it, may I exalt only You,
In all these cries, merciful God,
Quiet mine, for I need these eyes to see you,
Through the scorching fires of his heart
To be strong within the fray,
To face, here, the remaining days…”

He smiled ironically,
Amening my prayer, 
Taking my hand once again
“We have explored your light,
Might we venture now through my night?”

I nodded solemnly, and he lifted me from the ground,
His wings mightily beating the hot air
We rose to the maelstrom,
The lights dimming, the darkness working furiously,
The cries louder, and the leviathans larger 

“Behold, 
War,
Fear,
Scarcety,
Sickness,
Death.
The days you cannot deny,
Shall come as days past,
Though unlike days passed,
These days shall sustain my glory
And lay all hopes to rest
You cannot deny its swelling,
Its shrouding of your light!”

Within the maelstrom we ventured,
The great voices mighty in their misery
Empty eyes stared through the darkness
The light swept aside by his great wings
As we merged further into the hellish hoard
Hissing and spitting, creatures emerged from deeper trenches
Their mouths holding imbeciles and tortured souls,
A pale green horse screamed in the swirl,
His legs kicking through the repugnant, airy waters
I heard men calling, shouting at one another,
Witnessed parched dragons scorching each other,
And greater creatures with teeth jagged,
Worn from the constant gnashing of their teeth
The moans and groans tremored my bones,
Gave genesis to horrors only shown in darkness born

A leviathan, larger than the last arose from the depths,
To meet with our Prince,
Clenching its teeth at the sight of me
With the sweep of his hand, the jaws loosened,
And he motioned me near
Stepping on the back of the creature, 
I focused my gaze to the fading light
And he watched me grieve as the remaining creation
Faded into nothingness

I could hear the demons laugh,
I could smell Death breathing
His stomach swelling with souls
The battles amongst the souls continued
Throats of the deceased eternally retching,
Coughing and kneeling inside the dark,
Their eyes glowing, staring into mine,
Longing for relief, begging with their expanded pupils
Fear hastening, the leviathan swam,
Screeching in its own anguish and suffering
My hands clenched his gnarled horns, 
As my eyes locked with the Devil’s
He was singing, dark and mightily
Triumph and confidence in his every note
Every word, crisp, stinging

“You will see, oh Daughter of Eve,
How very lucky you are
To see, with me, the future not too far
A future embellishing all power
Wilting every flower,
Every petal of your lies 

I will show you, oh woman so fair,
The eve of your purpose,
My purpose, my reign,
When freedom rises
None shall refrain from the cries of their pain,
From the heart-gnawing stench of righteous defeat”

Standing upon the beast,
He roared as silhouettes sprouted from the shadows
Images of men fighting, stomping their strong feet,
Bright trumpets of war sounding,
Deafened even so by the screams of the wounded and dying
Children arose from the ground,
Watching the conquest of their agonies,
Their bony legs quivering,
Fear sopping their flesh
They rose only to fall to the ground,
Reaching for the skies,
But no one came for them
All happiness had come to an end
Humanity was declining,
The horses of war and sickness galloping rampantly
Through all nations, weak and strong
The tough devoured by great beasts,
The feeble strengthened by demons,
Desecrating their innocent bodies
Destroying all that stand unguarded in their path

And the Prince of Darkness arose, 
The pits of Death ascended all about him,
Forming his palace of woe
So that he may watch his glories commence
And beside him formed a Queen of Stone,
Whose hand raised for eons of wreckage,
The pain of the masses arising through every order
Her hair was jagged, long, black, matted,
Pestilence poured through her eyes and ears,
Her face dark, painted with the blood of the innocent 
Her broad lips poring speeches of blasphemy
Emerald green eyes hardened, fists clenched,
Anger caging her in its satiating thirst for ultimate command

He sang to me,
Inspired by the rotting corpses round,
The terrifying shrills of sound
With increasing appetite
And with deeper bite - 
“We must prophesy my dwindling light! 
Together we sing to entrust our fight
Deny me not, my fleeing soul,
I will free you from all control
To rule with me in this rising Age
To serve our purpose by my side
I offer you a throne you cannot reject
Though do not decide just yet
Let your heart rejoice in our creating,
Our might exceeds all 
Overcome their pathetic cries, 
And in them, with me, rise.”

It was true then
Surely he expected me to disregard such a collateral plight

I closed my eyes to end the vision before me
My heart thumping against such an offer,
A threat to my light, I frowned, I remained silent
All the night there, tainted futures shown
I clenched the leviathan’s horns
Not wanting to be pulled into the sucking currents
Lasting all the night upon its burning back


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Gypsies

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
complicated
You talk about us
with hushed voices
From behind your
hands
Always looking down
The idea of us so
precious

You don't deserve us
Never looking in our
eyes
As though the simple
mention of us will
bring you conflict
Our women so
beautiful
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
dessert
The snow in the
north
We have always been
We have always
existed
You gave us our name
It was never your
right
You called us
gypsies

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
beauty
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
floss
Smells like Apple
blossom

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

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

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


Copyright © little known nothing | Year Posted 2014

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Forgotten Fire

I was only twelve back then,
It seems like yesterday.
I suppose these terrifying memories I have,
Will never go away.

Gendarmes after Gendarmes,
Came to our town.
They took my oldest brothers,
And shot them to the ground.

My heart began to sink,
As my Mother screamed and cried.
She sat beside their bleeding bodies,
A part of us just died.

Early one morning,
I woke to a sound.
It was hundreds of Armenians,
Marching out of town.

Soon after they took my Father,
They came back for us.
They told us to quiet,
So there would be no fuss.

We marched and we marched,
To a dark rancid inn.
With the hope and wonder,
Of ever seeing daylight again.

My brother Sisak and I,
Escaped from their evil wrath.
We walked back to Bitlis,
On a well beaten path.

We searched for food,
Just like we said we would.
We wished and we prayed,
But it didn't do any good.

My brother soon starved to death,
But I had to carry on.
To tell this story of a Forgotten Fire,
A battle that I won.

The Turkish soldiers came,
And caused so much strife.
They wanted to kill everyone,
Obliterate all Armenian life.

I was only twelve back then,
It seems like yesterday.
I suppose these terrifying memories I have,
Will never go away.

























Copyright © Misty Johnson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

HUMMING HUMANOIDS

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

(Velocyreptor@gmail.com)
ANKIT_DEDHA@instagram


Copyright © ANKIT DEDHA | Year Posted 2015

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dark Spells

Dark Spells

As a clock running in black circles down
Distant stars lighting reddish fairy gowns,
Earthen pastures in darkness all aglow,
Awaiting dawn's eager cock to thrice crow.

Two wagging tails on huge fantastic birds
flying with dust stirring African herds,
For life in wailing pain must thus this bring,
curses spun from magical, hellish ring.

Night-winds ill blowing with green, nasty stench
coming calamity, sure-fire cinch,
Time and Fate conspire with evil blood-lusts
removing hope and adding deep the rusts.


Dragon pair emerging to life consume.
Old hag weaving spells on wicked loom.

Robert J. Lindley, 12-31-2016


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Withdrawing Room

Huddled together in this abstemious grey chamber
no windows or means of escape walls closing in
trapped where the un-sanctified transactions are made 


Daunting without exit the silent screams go unheard 
ashen skin with darting eyes never looking up
forever too frightened of seeing the truth reflected back 

In the unholy grail in visions of comrades within this un-sacred act of ransom 
the collective voice of the masked chorus urging them on wards 
then the integrated tragedy of hidden fears and secrets

A living sacrifice under this bargain where no one wins or gains
without boundaries of mortal limits there exists in this gunmetal airless demise 
unfettered woefulness and vainglory vie for victory 

The innocent victim's now the pawn's forgotten as pride twists obscurities 
severing the umbilical cord drowning breaths of existence
the sterile smell of unfinished lives permeating into the coal and ice


Tiny little footprints always remain's inside the womb's silenced facts 
the living water of life breaks no longer flows through the natural cord
leaving a chorus of continuous phantom's chanting in mendacious unity  

Opening the door of perdition where the tactical glare of a butchers knife 
held under a ghostly specter of a child that might have been treasured 
a face imagined but never seen and names never uttered 

A tortured remembrance of a pardon held precious beauty once
soon the vapour of shame burns off in an emptiness that still remains
glazes over a ruby rare passion 

Where fear & the constant loathing cannot fathom the uncertainties 
this future brings forth in the immenseness of what might have been 
not touching the soul properly 

The unborn yet to speak?
silenced unadorned gone forever jewel's 
always held within prayers of the faithful loving grace


a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Holocaust's Nameless Victims

Bright yellow badges proclaimed their faith
Paraded like nameless cattle
Counted and cooped as poultry
Numb and gelid they lay
Only thing alive
Was A desire
For a smooth
Kiss of
Death

Written On:04/24/2017
Contest:'Form N' by Broken Wings


Copyright © Sara Chansarkar | Year Posted 2017

Details | Holocaust Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)



Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:



Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.


He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.


After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.


In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.


Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.


He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.


Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.


On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.


Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.


His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.


In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.


On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:


‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’



Mahlangu died for a cause!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)


Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

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Lost Identity: View point of a slave

Why is my skin color different?
Did God make me this way?
When he made me, did he have
intentions on me being a slave?

And I thought we were all brothers,
including all the ones of different colors.

But why are they beating and hurting the others.
Someone save me, I didn't choose this life.
These scars, they've carved me with the sharpest
knives.

All I have is my faith.
Because if I'd held on to anything else
it'd be theres to take.

What is it that I ask for?
Equality, I preach.
Something small to you, 
but makes a difference
for me.

Whipping, spitting, hitting on me.
Raping our women in your wife's sheets.
Taking our children and turning them into workers.
No sense of empathy, grief or composer.

For the brotha' on my left and my sista' on the right,
with the courage that I hold I will continue to fight.
You have taken away my freedom, and most of my life.
But what you have failed to obtain is my state of mind.

Go ahead work my body, and do all that you please.
This is just a shell anyway, it's not coming with me.
You spit, you laugh, thinking you gained the world.
You think you have power because you've raped a young girl.

Stand tall sir with all of that pride.
And go ahead and hold it until the day that you die.
But your day will come when you'll fall to your knees.
Feeling the burn on your body from the whips you've given me.

"The LORD is my shelter,"
I continue to say.
While my soul goes up as God takes me away.
I wish you peace with smile on my face,
knowing that God teaches the fullness of grace.




Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014

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Not a Lie

not a Jewish lie
the Holocaust is for real
you can still hear screams


Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013

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Alive

I traveled the world
And though it is vast
I still need a truth
That would always last

Studied some books
And know my mind too
The whole time God knows
Only love will do

Studied Religion and 
Forever I found
Even God loves Love
On this I expound

My Mom in my life
Always there for me
Taught me that true love
Would there always be

Love doesn't judge man
And I'm very free
From color or type
Of good company

True love doesn't die
"Oh Love, you'll abound,"
Despite all the bad
You'll stand your ground

Love's the Law for me
We are always free
Love keeps me alive
This is Love's decree.


Copyright © Catherine Mary Airan | Year Posted 2014

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Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

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Marcell

A ray of sunlight streams across the room
To light the raven ringlets of his hair,
As now and then he slightly sways, within
His artful hands a violin and bow,
From whence bursts forth the musings of his mind
In vivid tones with deep vibrato's power,
And there expands and swells to fill the void
Of empty space that dwells within the walls
Composed of stones, both grey and worn with age,
Their only saving grace the leaded panes,
Designed by some forgotten man of old.
There stands Marcell, a stranger to the world,
Absorbed in fantasies of melodies,
The phantoms of how things appear to be;
For in the notes he dreams and then pours out,
He cunningly reveals his somber thoughts
And feelings, while the world is stamped to dust.
They tell the mournful tale of one who lived,
And breathed, and thought, but was not understood;
A boy whose parents died before his eyes
For crimes they never could have helped commit,
The crime of being born the same as he,
Of race that every other thought as vile,
And now while all the world engaged in war,
Is hidden in an ancient, empty church,
His one companion held within his hands
And speaking, just as he, to empty air.



{Written by Isaiah Zerbst on January 2d. 
Published January 3d, 2015.}


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

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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

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Leather Summit

A mountain of shoes,
Tower the valley of clothes:
Holocaust landscape.



___________________________
Inspired by the Auschwitz Shoes


Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2010