Best Partisans Poems
red rooftops appear to glow in rainy-day haze
lost in memories of pre-war bliss
she looks up to watch them bleed
pain is its own reward sometimes
better than the numbness
she so desperately seeks to leave behind
tiny poodle escorts her on La Rue de la Paix
peace has come to Paris at last
but in her heart, agony lingers
she heard the Fuhrer took his own life
cyanide and a bullet, too merciful for a demon
how her sweet Emil must have suffered in the death camp
his last gift to her, a red umbrella to offer shelter
at a time when he so direly needed protection
from horrific torture, starvation, gas chambers
footsteps behind her; she pivots, her poodle barks
what’s this? is rain playing tricks on her eyes?
he presses his lips on hers and she knows
yes, yes, these are Emil’s lips
still clad in a prisoner’s striped uniform, he holds her
she feels his ribs as they embrace
autumn rain soaks the fashion district near their home
while a violinist in a nearby café plays Chant des Partisans
overwhelmed, she wonders, is this a dream or is he home to stay?
*Written November 1, 2018
N/A in The Red Umbrella Contest
Contest judged that 11/13/2018
We loved the land
We tilled the earth, under sun we toiled
We pledged our souls, to nature’s whim
The King of France none to pleased
We took the sacraments
We held our faith, mournful to fates embrace
The British demanded a new oath we take
And scalped we were, both sides did partake
Our villages burned, our fields afire
Our woman and children, in hunger perished
We feared Monckton, a hunter of death
And from him, to ships hold, deported at best
We preyed to Canada, to lend us a hand
Evangeline an angel of our land
The darkened forests, to where we fled
Became bloody in battles, and turned to red
For Redcoats wandered in search of scalps
As Father Le Loutre preached unheavenly deeds
He was bloodthirsty and in skirmishes his evil flourished
His Mikmaq warriors helped rivers flow to blood
We lived along the rivers edge
We fought them all, to no one did we pledge
As serfs we served, to whom did rule
In the end, the forest sang our quiet eulogy
The vessels sailed from Halifax
With their human cargo of Partisans
Off to the West Indies, and a new land
Disease triumphed where Lord Laurence failed
And so the voyage, onward went
The traditions of Grand Pre, to Louisiana was lent
And there they settled, peace at last
As angels of their battles, in sacrifice did rest
And when the Barking Dog died
We saw the new tzadik arise
His face kissed and adored by the Prophet
His rights stolen for profit
Inherited by the Increasing One
Increasing only in iniquity
Inherited only because he was the Dog's son
Will we never have serenity?
And as the sun rose on a bright day
The High One's son arose to pave the way
For the future of revolutions
Last-ditch solutions
Fighting even know when you're at loss
Fighting for your values at the highest cost
I hear there's support for me in Kufa
And hence I must make my way there
But I know support for me will disappear
But like a moon in the sky our line will only reappear
Our message will stay clear
But today the light dies
And my spirit will swim through the skies
My blood will seep
Into the earth so deep
My special companions will lie next to me
My partisans in Kufa will surely spring into action
Though long after my sacrifice has been sanctioned
O Lord
I give my life to you
Cut me up
In a thousand pieces
And you will only receive a thousand voices
All simultaneously in praise
This nightmare is simply a phase
Until I am admitted to the heavens for eternal delight
Let me be an example to my partisans
For they are my people I leave behind
As I die here on this bloodied earth
Here in Karbala', the Land of Sorrow
"Breaking the Lonely Rewind"
Hysteria ensues a small death
on a funeral pyre pushed
into a sealed and soiled
heart shaped box sunk
to swallow stone tears
reversing reflections
in the coldest mirrors
Tsunami waves flood
all that was green
On the breaking shores
there the Lonely Rewind
is floating amidst The Shallows
resurfaced, cracked open and laid bare
her black treasures
boiling over inky interior
spilt darkly the soul
now sharp and split in two
a gift from the damned
walking out into the blistery wind
where sourness all around
whispers a soft war
of unclaimed, unwanted
forgotten voices,
The Lost and Lonely,
way past the end of their world,
where heartbreak is spurned
resurrect into burning birds
from the cold veined inferno,
The Silent Ocean of Reprieve
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"When I Was Older"/Billie Eilish
https://youtu.be/HSCREQjxPHE
Lyrics:
https://genius.com/Billie-eilish-when-i-was-older-lyrics
"In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn." Butler
"She told me she’d be a phoenix.” The image of the mythical creature rising from the ashes glitters in my mind. “They don’t really exist.” “She said that depends on whether or not there’s someone who can see them." Picoult
"One does not need to be against womens suffrage," the London Times editorialized in 1908, "to see that some of the more violent partisans of that cause are suffering from hysteria. We use the word not with any scientific precision, but because it is the name most commonly given to a kind of enthusiasm that has degenerated into habitual nervous excitement."' Gilman
"Lady Lazarus", Plath
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49000/lady-lazarus
Mussolini saved Italy
from a possible Nazi conquest,
he saw an alliance with Germany
as an opportunity to avoid
another horrible Holocaust!
This truth was never told
for fear that the Italian people
would have declared
Il Duce the savior of Italy;
wasn't his decision the smartest
choice he had ever made?
Although Mussolini invaded
many countries, he also
did good deeds; women were
fascinated by his charm,
my mom was one of them...
he was the perfect image
of masculinity and also
of obstentious vanity!
Sadly, Mussolini was hanged
upside down in that Milan's public
square; the Americans wanted
him alive, but his voice
was forever silenced by
the revengeful partisans!
Italy never gave him
the credit and the honor
he deserved, but he was
spat on, kicked and
by a vicious crowd!
I am honoring Benito Mussolini
with my ode for his great
leadership despite his errors;
may History remember him
not as a traitor, but as a savior
and a citizen who loved his country!
Written on 7/8/2017
The Almighty King
God in disguise, a pure soul of divinity,
No wonder the bona fide progeny of God you’re,
The great one highly esteemed for visionary you’re,
So genial and benign, no man as you exists so munificent;
The Grace, all hearts’ desire and the beacon,
Pray hundred more years you live on for the sake of
A million souls’ peace and wellbeing you care for.
So appeasing just your sight is, the balm to despair,
Joyous eyes’ grandeur and love of all hearts,
At all times hallowed thou shall remain and recalled,
Even the threat‘d sway no man against thee
‘Cause almighty you’re, the optimal clout beholder.
In you, our hope and assurance we perceive,
Ideal we see in you to emulate, your greatness,
Flame to our shadowed lives and succor in plight,
You ne’er let the famine creep in and starve us,
No evil you let it destroy our harmony
And no bloodshed you let our lives be taken,
But wishes fulfilled and smiles brought upon,
Bestowal of happiness upon us your deeds betoken.
The great, for your myriad services toward us,
Diffident would be our lips and soul discontented
To express utterance of gratitude with existing jargons,
For beyond measure is your divine humanity,
But deep within truly indebted are your partisans
And reverently,all kneel before you, the almighty King,
Greatest of the greats, the reason we so smile.
Two Nazis the partisans killed
For revenge a town's blood was spilled
Resistors forgot
Townsfolk would be shot
Where hell seems forever instilled
That's it
I'm moving to Russia
to write with the kings
Dostoevsky and Tolstoy
to sit in the cafes
and watch the pretty blond
Russik girls
Cook hot in winter
and get kicked out for talking too much
and knowing too much
and loving too much
and believing in God too much
and I'll have to leave my little Russik girls
with blond hair
sent to the army at 18
and Send my ass to the Gulags
to kick ass and break rocks,
lay down the railway tracks
that spans into winter snowy deserts
and dance with Cossack
and write with Solzhenitsyn.
Then those girls they'll miss me
and sing songs about me
dancing in circles
and those men shall honor me
paint my face in Red Square.
Partisans will fire rifles off in cold mornings
and afternoons and evenings,
Go down to Serbia and Macedonia
get myself a pretty girl,
a good one
who smiles all the time and tears up only on happy occassions,
those Russian girls
they're nice, but too wild.
Send off my words
and those hearts will sigh
with hands on cheek
leaning and listening
to scum filled poetry about this and that
we will dance,
oh we will dance
Till we die, we will dance
and remember our fallen brothers in all the wars
our innocent blood was shed for.
For the smiles and frowns
I go to Russia to meet those girls
and give them poetry to sleep with
and warm welcoming kisses on their red rose cheeks
and I wish you a goodnight Dostoevsky
and to you too Tolstoy,
Turgenev, and Solzhenitsyn
All of you, Rest in peace
I'll soon join you,
but let me finish my black coffee and talking
with those 18 year old Russian soldier girls
singing folklore songs from ancestors
and Kings.
They shall soon sing about me
in the square on May 8th.
Hurray! Presage of all round triumph
And victorious celebration unto the city
Of a united vanquisher and cooperate partisans.
For they won by strength , strength of all,
Neglecting the identification of various semblance and cannibalizing the spirited camaraderie.
By their united strength , forever they shall won.
Lend me your ears : olu – chukwu- allah generation
Which nations want progress and stability.
Hoping for an economic buoyancy .
A lone exit: of a trammelled growth , a shadow view.
A glorious hope triggered by peace – only in Christ Jesus
The burning flame of secular hope : a flashing star in the night that shields the vantage.
What can you see from the beauty of nature “ Jerusalem artichoke” is without beauty in the absence of its root
Flavour of salts is in the soup. So the glorious hope of a nation lies in the in the faith of the godly
Neither in the military nor economic strength
To the pace given to our fore fathers in the dream.
History told us was a new world,
Futher more was discovered by Christopher Columbus,
Dominated by working corps red Indies,
And build by sweat and blood of black slaves,
Other whisper that is land of Lincoln,
But echo sound remind me is land of no one,
There racism is common like cumulonimbus clouds,
Being black is an offense of billions killers,
Justice is the common blacks dream in land,
Oh! Partisans let them tripartite mare anger,
My sons and daughter sing different anthem,
Anthem of justice and acknowledgment in the land,
Holds me friends this is the land of everybody,
Let’s have courage and defend our dignity.
Partisans has now entered politics
fighting secretly against an occupying force
supporting the rights to kill Holy Innocence
blood of our martyrs is on your hands
Prejudiced in favour of a particular cause
carving death as their poster child speaks volumes
manipulating gossip overlooking facts that's no lie
These public figures are an out and out disgrace
they should be ashamed of themselves
serving the master of deceit
when the truth comes to light let us face it
I hate to tell you that I told you so
the guerilla fighter helps spill innocent blood
Pentagon shaped prisons poison their people with lies,
Using planes and petulant pious lies to coerce with fear.
From the ashes of their turmoil rises the phoenix of insurrection,
Choked by meager matters of the trogolodyte mind.
Sheepish followers squabble in meaningless prattlings,
Vomiting the very fuel which flames the fires of split nations.
Now is the time for thunder and lightening to break what binds us;
Coins and doubloons reevered by bandits whose smiling purses bloat.
Come my frown-faced children,
Gather from your quivers and sheathes thy sharp-edged weapons.
Tear from your oppressor the very breath that fills your toxic lungs.
Can you see what robs you of warmth and its frigid firtility?
Now is the hour to become American.
Once torn from the vicegrip claws of the governing crab,
Whose sexually transmitted diseases leak into thy genitalia,
And seep into the stream of blue blood trickling through your vains.
Let the polygon parasites split into several uncrawling pieces,
Squirming in its own defecated self-destruction.
Wealth and fortune which brought forth rule and totalitarian tyranny,
Shall be shed of the hamstrings of undue partisans.
The trump card has been played and its power shall be executed.
Just as that of those whose silver tongues blinded dilated eyes,
One voice shall be cut from its roots of Machiavellian trees.
As it branches burn in the scorch of self-proclaimed demonic blaze.
Set fire to those who kill you,
Let disintegrate that which obliterates,
Freedom by this poem's clue.
When did children become a national target
How can this insidious slaughter be met
Can we ban the AR 15's
For our toddlers and our vulnerable teens
Will a national revolution
Provide a lasting solution
I accept the need for amendment two
But surely...
An additional provision is due
For the sale and carry of the AR 15
Surely, the stiffest penalty should be seen
For 20 years the violence has seen an increase
Political partisans should be released
Restore our schools and youth to peace
Every day is a new debate
While we watch it escalate
Forget Not…Lest History Repeats
Victims of the Nazis Regime:
Jehovah's Witnesses and Jews.
Marched like chickens to their slaughter.
Once walked in twelve million, plus, shoes.
Social democrats and partisans,
Gypsies and orphans did death reap.
Disabled by body or mind –
Add more feet to the deadly heap.
Communists, and trade unionists,
Soviet prisoners-of-war,
Polish Intelligentsia,
Vacant shoe-stack grows from the floor.
Adolf Hitler ordered them killed.
Annihilation camp, grim rouse,
Death at Auschwitz-Birkenau –
The stench of death reeks in mourned shoes.
WRITTEN FOR ABE LOPEZ "Leather Voices" Contest
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
May 14, 2010
Poetic Form: Quatrains
The sunset is beautiful thing
About it sonnet they can sing
But this sunset is of ancient king
And his eerie persona changes everything
The golden army he would create
But to disappear long before Christ was born was his fate
The armies’ power was great
And the king governed large estate
The world war two came
Germans would kill and maim
The partisans would fight back just the same
Destroying German supply was their aim
In modern times under pines there is old unmarked grave
Of a lost partisan that fought so brave
And who his life for freedom gave
For brighter day and future for his children to save
If at war time golden army was alive
In those difficult days it would thrive
And very quickly occupiers away it would drive
Being more ferocious than hornets invading bee hive
Looking at the grave underneath pine and poplar in which wind would sing
The mother of lost soldier hears of ancient king
She would give anything
To see her son alive her heart would sing
Under the light of full moon
Singing white roses sorrowful tune
Wearing long clothes that make her look like a goon
She crosses the forest street to grave where lays her son the tribune
The ancient king would use math
To create genetic soldiers that would unleash their wrath
To destroy enemies who with him were on war path
It was combination of higher consciousness, genetics, magic and math
That what made his power so sublime
Is that he was master of time
He would use special enzyme
To generate his soldiers that did not fear the very time
But king died long ago
Before his army against his foes would go
For mother of the partisan it was a sad thing to know
Remembering it later as she stood by the grave through rain and snow
She learned about this secret during the war
If than she could have than bring the golden army to the war
It would be bizarre
Ending to the war
Somewhere in pine forest before the grave woman is sitting
For her lost son she is weeping
She is seen by someone who tries to recreate experiment of the king
But for her son is too late to do anything