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Best Holocaust Poems | Poetry

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

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

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View all new Holocaust Poems

The Best Holocaust Poems

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 teeming glee, Frau 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.

Yet not broken by the blues 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 imagining 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.

My Cry

Mongrels gyrating on the edge of town
This it now- its going down
The chant electric, the doomsday count
It matters not that no one speaks a word
We knew it was coming, but you havent heard
Just know how I loved you , go fly little bird

A mass of hungry hatred flash of glimmering blades
Blood of the martyrs, murder and Hades

Dance of the hyena, foul flinging dung
Clinging our candles only looking up
Feeble little fingers summoning the Light
A promise in our prayers armless in a fight

This is my cry, tell it to the world
From the podiums and parliaments
Dont believe a word

Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2018

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 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 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

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.



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


silence has a sound of its own.

yes, there was the film, my first exposure -

Kristallnacht – the night of broken glass


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


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

and they R E E K with death.


Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2016

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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 ****

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

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Abandoned Cities



"Abandoned Cities"
Empty sentries standing firm Vacant windows glistening they sit with Poe, Van Gough and Edvard Munch all broken waiting patiently ears open, silent screams, nothing spoken empty library of learning, all that is beauty and wisdom burning burnt out shells, End of the World Life has ended, the story turning Streets lie clean virgin keen and straining Ghosts soldiers watch on whispering madness march soliloquy training Bones white powder where they fell skin melted radiation shadows imbed the walls Enforced concrete couldn't stop there fall, chemical poison reigns from clouds back onto factory floors Genocide stargates oxygen swallows no birds fly here no buzzing flies appear HAARP strings no longer playing God's orchestral trumpets in the raped atmosphere Dust demons dance down cold concrete roads, not air as we know it, gaseous after blast winds shattered windows Dark is the watchtower, farewell no night, diamonds are dimmed no chirping crickets no croaking toads no swarming locusts in flight Haunting echoes whispering something’s wrong no children dreaming Mother is forgotten her soul is gone,Earth is quiet no longer screaming Gas masked Vampires lying dead supine suck the life out of memory Ropes hanging from rafters inviting swinging in lost time solemn shadows dance a polka on the floor no reason nor rhyme in the Land of the Bottomless Well, Orwell’s ode has gone straight to hell Grey beehives make no honey poisonous Oceans do not swell Butterflies aren't free no life no trees Abandoned Cities mute is money Listen, silence is golden, Woolf is no longer running (Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018) "Right Where It Belongs, NIN"
2. Junko's Story 3. The Aftermath of Nuclear War 4. Fukushima 5. Chernobyl 6. HAARP 7. Chemtrails Conspiracy 8.

Copyright © Leanne Lovejoy-Burton | Year Posted 2018

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Tears Turn To Smiles

How can I explain this feeling I feel
A feeling of being whole after years
Thinking that my fate did already seal
All the heartbreaks, and all of the tears

When from out of nowhere you had arose
Showing me a hope, catching me off guard
Wishing to shout it so everyone knows
Now feeling my heart, it's no longer hard
No more darkness now, it lets a light shine
A glorious feeling felt in my chest
Now I have someone i can call all mine
So I see my faults, I now want the best

As tears turn to smiles and once again
I'm seeing no loss, I see how to win 

Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2018

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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

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

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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

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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 
a phoenix will appear 
    and fly upward 
and as it soars 
   it will sprinkle 
love dust 
   on those on the 
     and leave kindness 
and laughter 
   in its wake

Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2016

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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 

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

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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

Inspired by Contest: "A Last Line Prompt"
Sponsor: Julia Ward

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016

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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

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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

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

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

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
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
Smells like Apple

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

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

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

Copyright © little known nothing | Year Posted 2014

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Blanc comme la neige

White like the snow

Ice stiffened limbs
Reaching out
No saviors about

Snow flakes in the wind
I reached and reached and reached
Towards deaths cold hands

Never to see her again
I looked down
Wine of bloods holocaust

Flowing from my hands
Unto the devils abode
Whitest of Pyrenees days

I died beside her departure
Railroad tracks empty
Bloodless heart
Ashes black
Butterfly born

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018

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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

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Playing with Minds

when childhood held dreams

when friends where real

Anne Frank, child betrayed

when poetry spoke of the heart

when the psycho penetrated with dart

those who tell tales true

	the kiss of love? or
		the kiss of deceit

	evil hides in rainbows
		goodness dances with lightning

I will remember hearts of kindness
	not the man spreading blindness

yearn for happier times
	not July, only youths summertime
		illusions that once made us happy

Now devour our minds

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018

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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


Copyright © ANKIT DEDHA | Year Posted 2015

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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

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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

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

Copyright © Sara Chansarkar | Year Posted 2017

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Of all human evils
That happend in history
Bigger than Holocaust
It was not, and it will not be.

One Violinist was there
His life was violin string
He made the bloody nest there
Im telling you everything.

He had to wear the star
Because he was a Jew
That star was like a scar
For bloody nazi crew.

So he was the artist
Who reached the nazi camp
He was the one of the smartest
Anyway, he got a stamp.

At first, he had faith and hope
He fought as he knew and could
But slowly, he melted like soap
And totally surrendered.

The nazi butcher dug his eyes
Just because he looked at him
He felt like he dies
Nazi enjoyed his scream.

After that, he was like a shadow
He didnt look like a human being
He became dark, like a crow
He stoped to feel anything.

They called him once, to play,
The villains wanted it so
Their will was the only way
And only words that slaves know.

They found some old violin
And they gave it to him
Teached by their discipline
Inside that horrible brim.

He took it with his hads bony
His frail hands tremble
And in the depths of his agony
As human he resemble.

Violine on his chin fits
He plays, without eyes
From the empty eye pits
He almost feels like he cries.

Without his eyes, taken
It seems to him like he dreams
Old memories are awaken
Like he is out, it seems.

The butcher suddenly begin to sangs 
He smells his horrible breath
Like beast, with sharp and bloody fangs
He sings of blood and death

He cast a violin,
After the verses of blood
He couldnt listen that terrible sin
From mouth of evil dud.

He desired death, and death came
He doesn't want to beg for his head
Every day is awful and same
Without eyes, he feels dead.

The wicked man fired at him
Brutally, without shame
He fell into mud, by the violin
His blessed End came.

But than, a miracle happened,
The miracle happen to chosen one
He saw his last sunset, blind
And to the Heaven his soul gone.

Zlatko Bato Zivkovic

Copyright © Zlatko Zivkovic | Year Posted 2018

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O Rare, The Sky

Blessed ...
   This was a day unlike any other
      The sun arose and stole my breath
         Oh, I have seen countless such day-wakes
            Here on this shore, ancient, sparkling ...

Each one unique and a miracle of color
   Making the moon blush with a goodnight kiss
      But this morn there were hues beyond my imaginings and memories
         And it seems fitting now that it should have been so
            That every moment on this day be priceless ...

Every minute spent here with my love, as perfect as it could be
   Every smile and laugh and kiss and tear, perfection
      Each breath an exquisite drama, every touch a blessing
         And if that is only in my perception, it matters not
            This farewell to humanity ...

These last moments - more precious than any that came before
   For our eyes behold the culmination ...
      The death throes of an extraordinary race - a race and existence, sublime
         That brought to fruition the best of art and acumen
            And ultimately, its own undoing ...

I am content, as I watch the sky turn to fire
   I am blessed here, in my love's embrace
      A full, passionate, extraordinary life ... for both of us
         And there is an incredible beauty to this sky
            Flaming, churning mushroom clouds in the distance ...

And more colors I've not imagined, an intense and powerful image
   The streaming rainbows of fire and fission
      Consuming themselves and all that they sweep upon
         It seems right that it be so ...
            That the end of man come in such consummate fascination ...

And such treacherous bloom ...
   We go out with a scream and a tremble, not a whisper in the night
      And I am with the one I love, true and true ...
         The one who has shared all of life and love with me
            The one who took my breath and heart, all those years ago ...

I shall look deep into her eyes as I did then
   And feel their grasp on my being ...
      As this thunder and flame and terrifying beauty
         Consumes us ...
            Consumes all.

~ 10th Place ~  in the "Doomsday Clock Two Minutes To Midnight" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Sponsor.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2018

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In 100 Years

Arid, barren, desolate
skeletons strewn carelessly
  jarring parched landscapes

Tucked away under rocks and boulders
one-celled creatures huddle
  motionless, gasping, wheezing

Noonday sun blisters
methane-enveloped tropics
  the poles whistle as well

Oceans bubble, foam, boil
water sizzling, spitting lava
  lifeless depths of charcoal ash

Far, far to the south in
Antarctica's heart, a creature's hand
   stretches out from the deathly mixture

   ~ clutches at hell's horizon

           May 30, 2018

   In 100 Years Poetry Contest

Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2018