Long Bergen Poems
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Larger stop signs are required by the law
Traveling at the speed of light is not legal
Going slow in Leonia is down right evil
All things are prohibited in Bergen County
They don't like strangers either
Like out of towners in their cars
Streets are meant for their own people
Too many vehicles passing through
More than one at a time becomes confusing
Cars cause pollution in their community
Too much congestion is bad for business
Strangers get $200.00 fines to visit
More space is needed in outer space
The deeper the better in our estimation
Don't drive cars through town at any hour
Or you'll get fines and your little dog too
People own restaurants and shops in Leonia
They sell rice and chicken and hand out tickets
To foreigners from other planets like Atlantic City
Like outer spacers like out of towners man
Where there are no boundaries
No speed limits to speak of right this minute
Speed rapidly descends, fades into particle decay
As they run away with reason in the light of day
From New Jersey, a foreign land on any given day
Reputations, law and order are at stake
Or is it logic in the Garden State that escapes
Atlantic City is the playground of the world
And in Leonia they have squirrels to be obeyed
Time and space are play things to Leonians
Code enforcement comes first before snow is allowed to fall
It is the law and smoking is illegal without a permit
Filters too if you can catch or find them on the cigarette
Larger citations must be created in the cosmic void
Served inside the law outside with traffic noise
To stop the speed of light and slow down cars
At rush hour in Leonia
Where it is always night at traffic lights
And just minutes away from Mars
Authors Note: Here is the link that inspired the poem
Leonia New Jersey
http://hamodia.com/2018/01/22/leonia-new-jersey-beset-traffic-via-navigation-apps-closes-off-streets/
The Nazi concentration camps were liberated
by allies of the Second World War . . .
they found camps filled with sick and starving people
including children and babies
the Germans attempted to hide the evidence
of mass murder by trying to demolish
the gas chambers, but parts remained as evidence
prisoners were forced on death marches
with no food or water or shoes or warm clothes
and of course tens of thousands died before reaching a destination
some were shot when they could not keep up . . .
Bergen-Belsen camp was liberated
by the British forces
what they found I am sure haunted the soldiers forever
thousands, thousands of dead bodies lay strewn throughout the camp
barracks held 60,000 starving ill people including children
and they found mass graves and cremation ovens
this is what happens when a dictator tries to
exterminate a race of people . . .
On April 15, 1945, Bergen-Belsen concentration camp was liberated
by the British Forces - what they found is unfathomable to comprehend.
______________________________
September 18, 2030
Poetry/Narrative/A Historic Event
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1287-758-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, A Historic Event
sponsor, William Kekaula
Second Place
From Poland hailed your Uncle Max, who in matters of manners was a bit lax,
While from France came Aunt Belle, whom I thought was really quite swell.
Next up from Russia was Cousin Boris, whom I always confused with Nephew
Morris;
And then from Germany came Aunt Gitel, whose fingers fairly flew o'er
her fiddle.
After that from Lita came Uncle Beryl, whose fistic prowess put enemies
in peril.
Of course, from Ukraine came Cousin Emma, whose soup was the crème de
la crema.
It's our duty to recall Uncle Saul, though no one knew where he came from
at all
And finally, from Prussia, poor Aunt Masha, who subsisted for years on
potatoes and kasha.
What's this? You say you don't know any of these relatives at all?
Neither their names nor those of their children can you recall?
Then furrow your brow and bestir your brain; just don't be appalled:
Uncle Max may have been from Krakow, but his skeleton was prematurely
interred by the Nazis at the death-camp of Dachau.
Cousin Emma was from a wealthy family in Vizhnitz, though her fiery
cremation was reserved for the ovens of Auschwitz.
And pretty Gitel, who grew up in the small village of Dulmen, was gunned
down in the caverns of Bergen-Belsen...
So much for our family tree.
Had grandpa not fled to America by sea,
One of those dead branches above
Would surely have been me.
HOLOCAUST MEMORIAL DAY -- 73RD ANNIVERSARY -- APRIL 12, 2018
NEVER FORGET!
Soup Contest
The day was Sunday
The time was just after noon
Church had just finished
The choir that day enchanting
You could feel the anticipation in the air
A Soup contest like no other
Everyone in the village was there
Young, old, the happy and the sad
All where hungry though
Who would be the winner?
Of the Magical Soup Festival
Who Who Indeed!!!
Seven finalists, all nervous and shaking
Will it be me, of she or she over there?
You could smell the flavors of competition
Beautiful aromas floating in the air
Now I was the judge in this contest fair
I too nervous, how to choose a winner
Did I even Dare?
Then a thought dawned, happy was I
Mondays prize, to the Chicken veggie soup
Tuesdays prize to the Cream of mushroom soup
Wednesdays prize to the Wedding broth soup
Thursday prize to the Noodle and beef soup
Fridays prize to the Bergen fish soup
Saturdays prize to the Barley and Oats Soup
Sundays prize to the Corn Chowder soup
I placed 7 beautiful first prize ribbons
On the happiest smiling faces I had ever seen
My heart this day warmed by soup and the kindness
Of all these giving cooks, proud and content
The contest over
All the village sat down
To the festival of Soup
Full stomachs and happy souls
A winning event all around!!!!
Notes: Often we create our environments and realities with our conceptions of life, For one to win, it dos not mean another has to lose, competition is great, however, kindness and compassion, are also great traits.
Boston Legal raises jurisprudence burdens of proof to a more realistic level
Observant fans of Bergen, Shatner, Spader, David Kelley could be seen as rebels,
Savoring games of assault and battery on real life large and small actualities
Testifying every act negligent or malfeasance and trivial grotesque fatalities.
Opinionated obscure minds, open up objectionable hearts and bankrupt eyes
Negligently embracing the politicians easily spoken but perjured lies.
Larceny lessons from history's changing more lenient laws is unmistaken
Evidentiary episodes expunge the human condition without real exoneration.
Guilty grievances gain feelings of raw emotional desire for monetary recovery
Arresting allegations appealing callous affidavits of due process inspired discovery
Legal litigations of ridiculous actions sequester every man's cross examination.
For - Your Favorite Habit-Forming TV Show - poetry contest
Thank you David E, Kelley- creator of shows like Ally McBeal and Boston Legal. you stinker.
Buchenwald Bergen Belsen Belzec Auswitz Birkenau..Advertized as kibutz
Camps 1940 s designs, live now as this
Ages macarb'e museums, attractions of
Evil madness i find.' Generating payments
That get siphoned to wars.' They are temples to manna, steeped in past agonys..Into current atrocitys i am almost
Sure.? I am not reflecting on Jews far and
Near for there will be many who are not guilty of ultra earthly zionisam, yet i realize there is more, i see a satanic circle
Of distinct groups nominally Christian Jewish Islamic Hindu Buddist Zen under
satan..In cahoots each sect stirrs its followers to cause some bad event, then its the turn of another.' This way they circumvent.? Discovery of their methods
The public perception is always skewed..az they melt in and out of the shadow world that enables their attacks
On you.' Or whoever they next intend to do.!
In the arctic frozen sky of the enchanting land the midnight sun
leans on the horizon briefly in bright summer and again it rises,
I didn’t know when a new day actually would have or had begun.
The frosty sky in winter night burns in flashes of aurora borealis.
The North Sea stretches the long arms through the blue fjords,
the visible heritage of the glacial deep scoop of the Pleistocene,
dissects the corrugated coastline as if sliced by the Viking sword.
I was held captive there for a long time by the magnificent scene.
To unravel the petrified mysteries of the Nordic Caledonian rocks
I crossed many dales and ridges of the geologic arc west of Bergen,
walked for days across the uninhabited islands where eagles flock.
In the cold crystal rains the shelter of the ancient caves I had taken.
On my travel I stayed a number of days in Lyderhorn, a small village
overlooking the tranquil turquoise waters of the narrow Loddefjord.
A gracious lady of the pretty house, Julia Aasen in her advanced age
gave me a furnished room at a rent that at the time I could afford.
She used to invite me for dinner at her place almost every evening,
offered me plate full of peppered boiled potato and hot fiskeboller,
slices of brown bread she baked with thick Jerlsberg cheese topping,
showed fondly the faded pictures of her late husband, a fish seller.
Time came to leave and say heart-felt ‘tusen tak’ on a freezing day.
She presented me a pair of woolen gloves she had specially knitted.
Years later when I wear these her frail touch they remotely convey,
I feel the warm heart of Julia of Norway although she has departed.
September 28, 2017.
There's no mobile internet all day; Ukraine is flying drones
My mother, a sure reincarnation of Caterina Sforza
Who else would be so impeccably dressed in
A crimson jacket and a chic silk blouse when's it's anomalously hot in May?
We saw Romeo and Juliet, a Gérard Presgurvic musical. The verdict?
''Too raunchy, too loud, too much dancing.''
Me, Countess of black cats and Lady of possums —
I feel like a prehistoric curio pet in a cloud of Shalimar
And the music swims back to me
By God, it all just grabs me most violently
And I know I want to dress real nice, I'll be a funny Anne Boleyn
And I know those dead rascal Persian children will forever play with undead children
Amongst endless Indiana cornfields
And I know I am Sarah and you're Mohammed
And I know Russia and America won't always be circling each other
And I know I am from Izmir and you're from Cyprus
And I know everyone young and beautiful will just be dancing with
Their silly yellow stars on
They'll just dance, dance, dance until this strange sin is no more
They'll just dance, dance, dance light into being
And I know I'll go see that play about a Russian winemaker and a Polish musician
And I know I'll light a candle to St Jadwiga to bring my South African lover back
And I know we'll go to Uruguay and do 101 sun salutations
And I know we are Dodi and Camilla and we'll be sipping
Chilled white wine and gingerly nibbling on little vegan cakes
In pretty Bergen-Belsen
And I know we're going to become marvelously angelic somehow, some day
And I know it'll be all Belgian candies, sexytimes and Omar Khayyam poems
And I know all sensitive and non-violent males
Will be awfully useful during a crisis
And I know all hyphenated persons won't be different people in different languages
On my way home I see a stern fisherman by the Fontanka —
My blackfella heart instantly senses something, a falling black cockatoo feather perhaps
I watch a dying fish flail around fornlornly as if it was a sacrifice to some dark Reptilian god
Under the sliver of a young waxing moon
The fisherman knows the Moon Man is bad
As high priest to the Moon Man, the fisherman guards every piglet tragedy
And I know I love my hyphenated blackfella alien heart
And I know I am quite enough
And I know I am quite enough
Kindness is a gift we get from heaven
Reaches us through humans
Or through things around us
Created by souls on earth with God’s grace.
While on a study adventure
One such act of kindness
Touched the deep niche of my heart
When around Lyderhorn, a sleepy village
Lodged on the banks of Norwegian Loddefjord
I was on a field work looking at the Caledonian rocks.
There a gracious lady named Julia Aasen
Rented me a room with a kitchen
For she needed money, her husband
A fisherman, had died a year ago.
My work was going on well until one rainy day
While crossing a mossy rock ledge
I lost balance and slipped a good ten feet.
My backpack disappeared in a creek
An arm of the deep blue fjord below.
I lost my wallet, money and cards,
And with them my poise.
I couldn’t pay the weekly rent
nor could I buy the provisions.
Finding me, a stranger, in dire need of help
Julia said I needn’t pay the room rent for a week
And be her non-paying guest, give her company
Although I knew how badly she needed the money.
Supported by her hospitality I could finish my work on time
And return to Bergen on a bus ticket she purchased for me.
Julia no longer lives in the hamlet by the fjord
But wherever she is now I know it can’t be but heaven
For she made me realize random kindness doesn’t come
From a random person.
It flows from a special soul
Where an angel lives.
May 18, 2020
Contest : Action Adventure
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
Sunshine Smile one of my best friends on soup,
We started communicating within our group,
From the second month onwards,
And so we continued forwards.
On the 24th May I got
Her last email.
We communicated every day
In May.
Her last poem posted,
The 21st May,
"Children of the Earth",
She was sick
Very sick, had been into Hospital
For an operation.
And had to go in a second time
In an ambulance which took her to
Bergen in Norway.
She was terribly afraid, I have tried
To raise her so often on soup,
Phoned the Hospital and wrote them
A letter, not a sound, not a word,
Now nearly a month later,
Still no news, I know she has a
Daughter, but do not know her
Name or address, what are we to do,
I am so distressed, did not
Want to send out ripples of alarm,
But where to from here, does anyone
Have a contact in Norway who
Perhaps could go to the hospital
Or phone or speak Norwegian to them,
As they were not so forthcoming,
But to someone that speaks Norwegian
They might just respond.
Has anyone been in contact with her
in in the last four weeks or so?
We must do something,
PLEASE HELP. We must find
Anne-Lise Anderson!