Best Warsaw Poems
They slipped their chains and spread their brains
On walls of bricks and mortar,
Bared their teeth in their belief,
Prepared themselves for slaughter.
Howled aloud in the smoke and cloud
That prowled the streets and alleys,
The sounds they made in their parade
Echoed down the valleys.
They shed their blood in crimson flood,
It stained the roads and gutters,
And people hid and crossed themselves
Behind their doors and shutters.
The gunfire cracked and bodies stacked
As one fell on the other,
When it was done and lived there none,
Each sister mourned each brother.
The sun it rose, diseased and froze
Out on a wracked horizon,
The jackboot bastards drank their fill
And cried out: “What’s our poison!”
Black as soot on a winter night,
Thin with eyes red to the core,
The tourists armed with skulls and guns
Beheld the Dogs of Warsaw.
Torn like rags in a threshing mill,
Shapeless sprawl on a killing floor
Yet history will not forget
The butchered Dogs of Warsaw.
Although East Germany is no longer around,
there are several other Eastern European countries to be found.
Some in the West consider us a competitor to NATO.
Only about our daily business we will go.
There is Poland, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia.
We have Romania, Hungary, and Bulgaria.
These are the members that exist at our core.
We have been together since the end of the last World War.
These nations are united as one for the world to see.
Together, we comprise one big happy family.
Innocent people forced
Into an inhumane Ghetto
While being Jewish
Admiration for the fighters
In the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising
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Unschuldige Menschen
Gezwungen in ein unmenschliches Ghetto
Nur weil sie Juden waren
Hochachtung für die Kämpfer
Im Warschauer Ghettoaufstand
Back to Belfast
I have been to the Ghetto thrice
To Auschwitz twice
And to Belfast once
And to tell the truth
Belfast is the winner of the weirdest places
Where I’ve ever been
But to be fair
That was just before Good Friday-
The peak of the peace process
Deserted streets
Walls dividing roads
Flags aggressively hanging from windows
Emblems that define their owners’ sympathy
Plain buildings bedecked by racist graffiti
It made me think of a European inter-war capital
Berlin or Rome in the era of dictators
Sectarian genocide was lurking there
But no blackshirts visible to give it an edge
My country, my people
What have you done?
How could you do this?
Answer me!
I’ve had my share of tight corners
But I can safely say
No place ever made me feel so uneasy
As Belfast on that day
Until now
Now when I’ve returned
Back there
Back to Belfast
Deserted streets
Fences blocking movement
Face masks preventing and protecting against infection
Emblems that define the struggle for survival
Health signs that warn us how to avoid death
Death at the hands of the virus
Homicide, infanticide, genocide-
This time there’s no special target
The enemy is everybody
With the infection
Now the blackshirts are on the road
Patrolling a deserted dyke
On the outskirts of Warsaw
Soldiers, policemen, imposing regulations
All doing their duty, all plainly seen
But the enemy is invisible
The victims in isolation
Their families in quarantine
The rest of us waiting
For the lurking virus to strike again
If we stay at home-
With shops and cafes
Parks and cinemas closed-
Are we safe?
If I daub the door of my house
With the blood of Lombards
Will I escape this Shoah?
For how long will this go on?
How many more deaths
Before the required quota?
My God, my God
What have we done?
How have we offended you?
Answer me!
camped out behind
the baltic sea
the making of me
washes up apon
blood soaked stones
of cunning tides
behind the vacant
graves apon our
burial ground
silence abode
all movement
abroad
written Mrs. Yolanda Joy Nicholsen