LIVING IN MUNICH GERMANY THOMAS MANN TOWN THE TOWN OF POETRY MARIENPLATZ TOY TOWN CHRISTMAS TOWN THE PLACE WHERE HUMMELS COME ALIVE WOODEN CLOG SOUNDS IN A DISTANCE UPON THE COBBLE STONE BRATS AND LARGE PRETZEL HANG BEER STEINS ARE SLID ACROSS LONG TABLES INSIDE ROWS OF TENTS OCKTOBER IS NEAR THE OKTOBER FEST APPROACHES THE CLOCK MAKERS GATHERED CARRYING NUTS BOLTS GOLD SPRINGS FOR THE COO COO CLOCKS THE WOOD CUTTERS SAWING TINY MILK MAIDS DANCES MATRYOSHKA DOLLS STACKED NEATLY WIENERWALD SNITZEL AND POMFRITTS GERMAN BLUEBERRY SKONES BECKON MY THOUGHTS CRAVING NAUGHT CALMLY I SLIP INTO MY LEADER HOSEN SIPPING A CRISP REISLING READING JOHN KEATS COMFORTED BY TIME THAT GOES BY
Our Christmas traditions ...
They came across the sea,
From the old, old towns
In the heart of Germany
Sugar and spice - filled
Were the gingerbread men,
Cut by hand ... carefully
As was the tradition then
A wooden nutcracker guards
In a frosted windowpane,
To keep away evil spirits ...
Out wandering down your lane
And, the advent calendar
Which hung on the wall,
The Christmas carols sung
In the home by one and all
Ornaments of blown glass
And the Christmas tree ...
Born in many an old town
... A gift from Germany.
Our medical system in Central Pa.
needs a major tweak.
Unfortunately the absence of care is
daily growing more bleak..
I can't see my cardio. until nearly a week..
A shortage of primary's clearly exists.
I'm currently on four waiting lists..
Drove to an e.r. yesterday to be seen
when my b.p. went up to 216.
Sat in a waiting room for over two hours
as other patients conditions were much more dire.
One young man clearly very sick waited to be
seen with a rupturing appendix..
After two hours of waiting I decided to go, in
hopes that my numbers would return to low,
remembering something my brother said
some time ago..
He said buy some beer it works you know.
Never really developed a taste for beer but
am drinking in the am and it works my dear..
High blood pressures are quite concerning,
alternative methods I'm quickly learning.
I'm almost certain I'm turning German.
Keine Antworten
David J Walker
Old German Ghosts
Dangle their ragged feet
Over the lava flow
Of Spandau
Wondering
What went wrong
So long
Ago
But they will
Never know
It’s the thing of which
Hell is made
A burned book of
No answers
Checked out
But never returned
I don't have a dog
Doesn't mean I don't like a dog
A friend has two
And from the way he walks them through
The Alsatians strut along the street
Black and tan, they look so sweet
The German breeds are more than pets
They saunter along like a branch of cadets
Beautiful souls
Sure of their patrols
Never nervous
And prompt to calls for service
The German shepherds
Are very good shepherds
With impulses leading to quests
They checkmate uninvited guests
There was a German Shepherd named George
Who - on only the best would gorge
If you offered him ground beef or fish
He would growl and cover his dish
He’d howl with a histamine headache
If fed anything less than steak.
Suzanne Delaney
For Robert
Check out all of Robert Gorelick’s funny doggie Limericks.
The battle starts everyday
His itch will not go away
Scratch and scratch is all he does
I yell to stop from above
Itching and biting evermore
Skin covered in sores
Itching continuously grows
When it stops nobody knows
As I wish it to stop
Redness, allergies, and hot spots
Going, going, non-stop
Trying to reach the itch up top
Off to the vet we go
Hoping to keep the cost low
Shepherd curse is well known
Several test he will undergo
Finally, a pill that helps
Remove most the welts
Finally relief he finds
Giving him peace of mind
If I had a German Shepherd on my porch
I could be happy, the old grandpa-want-to-be said.
The day was gorgeous, the sunset outstanding.
But he saw none of this, concentrating on what he did not have
Instead of all the things that he did.
His wife put the most beautiful supper on the table that night.
Fried okra, steamed broccoli, steak fixed the way he loved it.
She was disappointed when he did not comment.
Expecting a compliment, maybe a wow.
He was focused on not having a German Shepherd.
More important to him that enjoying his wife or his life.
You had best be on your toes the merry grandma said.
The Krampus will get you if you don’t watch out!
We were almost too terrified to go to our bed.
Hearing the Krampus outside giving an imaginary shout.
The Krampus is coming, our uncle Ned said, happy to scare.
There was some weird kind of terror floating around in the air.
I don’t believe in the Krampus my big brother said.
I was too afraid to disbelieve for the Krampus might strike me dead.
I feel her dressing in the darkness
Still some time to daylight
Anticipate her goodbye kiss
Before I slip into the night
Walk quietly through the wood
Until the village is way behind
Walking the route unthinking
As she still fills my mind
She gives me so much pleasure
So much pride and joy
She deserves much more
Than this callow boy
She really doesn’t know
And I don’t know why
I can’t tell her I love her
No matter how I try
She teaches me to love
With respect and care
Shows me always that
To love is to share
She dresses in the darkness
And I skulk around
To make sure
We are not found
I want her so much
To stay there in my life
I hate the man who makes
An unloved wife
I dread the day when
she tells me as I go
Goodbye is goodbye,
it will come I know
Blonde German girl who
Lets me share her bed
Just doesn’t know how my heart
Really wants to rule my head
Descendent we are
forefather’d as we are
(not all obviously),
from the Germanic tribes.
Around the year zero
we emerged out of those dark primordial
winter forests,
fully formed and tribal.
Not to get too historical, however.
The fun part is
we get to choose which one of these
we want to be,
choose imaginary friends and foes
so let’s see -
Saxons
Angles
Jutes
Friesians
Franks
Hermione’s
Churusi
Suebi
Marcomanni
Alemanni
Lombards
Goths
Vandals
Burgundians
Herull
Finns
and Skandza.
Trouble is, all too often
it Just sucks to be German.
The shot and shell falls down
And the soldiers hugs the ground
They call to one another clear
Are you safe now the battle’s near
But one lies on his back quite still
A bullet has struck and it kills
He takes his last breath and sigh
A German soldier for the Fuhrer dies
At home parents hear their dreaded story
Their son has died where is the glory
The Nazi state sends out a card
To temper their grief is so hard
Written on the card is a Christian cross
With the Nazi swastika in the centre embossed
And a prayer to the Lord is written
The family has made a sacrifice so smitten
I wonder how could they use a cross and a prayer
When they murdered millions without a care
For a Nazi organisation in the Second World War
And ask God for guidance, love and more.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Stone for stone, this raised grandeur
With the mountain's contends.
Beauty, austere. With both hiding
Terror's own face within!
One's stormy past of fierce-struck
Outcries, most barbarous
Wolf-sharp, flashingly echoed
Afar stormed; elked and roed.
The days of
wine and rose's
enchanted pose's
I think of you
nothing added
nothing taken away
my thoughts follow you
wandering about
what's left from
the midst of your
melancholy mannerism
captured beyond
wholly adversity fallen
desperately on infamous
tangible chatter over
wiener schnitzel
sour dough bread
potato soup and
a crisp Riesling
over looking the
Bavarian alps mourning
Oktober hidden glances
broken chance's in this
moment we simply are
the very best of ourselves
we are noble willing
challengers on a voyage
beyond this ravished
wildlife mythical muse's
subtle faint hues filled
with yesterdays blues
Oh Chaldean Sea God, Loreley whispered. Bring him back to me.
She was counting on her favorite god, next to her favorite place, Rhine Sea.
Alas, the man she loved had run off with another – consummation not to be
So she threw herself into the depths. Turned into a German Nixie for eternity.
As a Nixie she could turn herself into a beautiful young woman or old hag.
She had so many powerful spells now, she saturated the ships that did lag.
Watch out for Lorelei, the siren, the captains cautioned their young men.
Knowing sex and sensuality transformed males time and time again.
In the depths of Sankt Goarshausen Loreley produced an echo clear.
She called to the hopes and dreams of the sailors as their ships got near.
Transmogrification and invisibility both at her prophetic finger tips.
She coaxed young sailors to their deaths, giving them a tiny taste of lips.
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