Long Deutsch Poems
Long Deutsch Poems. Below are the most popular long Deutsch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deutsch poems by poem length and keyword.
he is a god
given hap
piness in
my life
before
he could
even speak
english he told
me his very
first German
joke and where
he learned German
is beyond
me and i must
say he is in no
way part of my
gene puddle
deep and or from
the shallow end but
enough said for these
now are his words:
guten morgen
......... freeman
telling him there
is no rhyme for
the word orange
his reply, "door hinge"
what's a blind German?
a na zi
don't make me go
Japanese on you
me asking at dinner
why everyone else had
Japanese chopsticks
but i was eating with
Chinese? He replied:
Loser!!!
him meeting his math
teacher for the first time
wearing a t-shirt that read
"Three Out of Two People
Know Nothing About Math"
finding a sword
in a pawn shop
in Charlotte
in a back
corner
with his
star symbol
and hearing him
yell "This is mine" and
i replying,
"Not until
i pay for it"
another time at dinner
him now having taken
German classes
naming all of the
colors and me
not remember
ing that gelb
was yellow
so i asked,
you know
all these
words
yet
you
can't
use
them
in a sent
ence? which
he replied Ich
bin gelb and so
as we laughed my
wife didn't get it at all
knowing he never missed
a day of school in his life
me, walking downstairs
asking him what was up
him telling me i've got
to catch my bus and
me telling him the
time that he already
had missed it and then
him feverishly asking if i
could drive him to school? but i pre
pared him for the thought that
took the backpack off his back and
then telling him you're going back
to bed though he fought it a bit
he did it and went back
to school the next day
he and i
laughing
when we
found out
the politically
correct name for
his up bringing for the way
he was raised him was a "free
...................................range child"
me waking him
guten Morgen
wie geht es Ihnen
sprechen das Deutsch?
and him emphatically re
sponding Nein
i know
he's not
one of
mine in
the bio
logical
sense
but i
as my
wife said
that her and
i were meant
to meet so that
i would meet her
son
Form:
What a sight to behold! A home to immigrants,
a spectacular city rolled with a wealth of arts!
predominantly Catholic with its many facets
its historical resonance and genesis of existence.
While it’s a welcome contrast from other countries,
there’s evidence that it’s replete with triumph and fall;
just after Bolzano, Trento, Rovereto, Verona Porta Nuova,
Peschiera del Garda, Desenzano della Garda-Sirminione and Brescia.
That from Milan Central Station the train arrives in Monaco.
Indeed, I was so impressed to see the main city
its combined history and culture; a satisfaction
just on the horizons they gave me an enormous impression
to the so-called civilization that München defines its soul.
Churches can be found almost in every corner
with their baroque or lavish rococo architecture,
some artifacts and gothic designs in some parts
in the eye of the beholder, they’re indeed a treasure.
People from all walks of life converge at the epicentre
the bustling footpaths, crowded shops and restaurants
with families from Dubai, Abu Dhabi and Pakistan
Asians or other Europeans in common desire
this place holds a promise for future and families.
Germans in general, love to drink and hang out with friends
a place like Hofbräuhaus where huge crowds can be found
a good description, the best picture to recall.
Deutsch, the language spoken but difficult to learn
gave me an impression of its beauty in articulation.
With their conventional greetings like in many other cultures
respect is the by-word along with courtesy and reason.
like the Olympic Park, Marienplatz, Nymphenburg palace,
English Garden, Königsplatz and many other sights
They’re beautiful places steeped with history and connection
to the people of München who love their own culture.
I may not be keen about other European cuisines
however, as a person drawn to taste them all
with a sweet tooth I couldn’t resist a typical German version
of the American pancake served in the morning
kaiserschman, its name and it’s common to all.
Sopheceles studs chorale the Martyrdom call 'ems
ant-chant Thyme dash and Cheyenne bled-cles
and Mud Squadrorns dove colorblind
Link on-a-role spiked with trail and errs past
Prosed Persident Mar. Argo near Key Bask Lame
22kay ears like Bugs Sunny and Share sin-Gold
may-jar-of-tea of her punched shingles made
class sick of nerds of those Stolen Wars
They kicked-dirt-eyed others
The Survivors Tell-A-Cast close familiars were
Cons in tents and I-glues and tippies of homelessness
that Pros address, re-Moat of the Capitol Hill
Masqued based on perverts of those floral nature
hyper-ethical breathes a gnu presence
that will halve all life kind existent
clueless to the verve climb
The prophetic reel cavity of the Whooping Cranium
hell-bent, Como tally vu: Straght dope,
Comme-ci comme-ca: Same-o same-o,
Je parle un peu francais: Do you speak French?
Heaven-sent, Das ist richtig meinen freunde:
That is right my friends, "Danke schon dahling
danke schon": Thank you darling thank you,
Sprechen si deutsch: Do you speak German?
Affect boredom-lain, racial sophistry
as skin tones raze issues tossing shade
a constant advent for hair-raising accidents
electrocution and the radio activate channel
Kamehameha lost his underwear
and feared the recent conversion of his mythological
ancient high priest HewaHewa of the old gods
heeded Missionaries to overthrow the Heiaus/temples.
My ohana/family Heiau Waha Ula/Red Mouth is Pele's
temple where human sacrifices were done by warriors,
placing those sacrifices' heads on a large rock in the middle
of the Heiau and bashing their head with a heavy club.
Waha Ula Heiau was the last torn down fearing Pele's curse.
After his warriors destroyed Pele's Heiau, on their return
to Kamehameha's Kohala home, several hundred
of warriors died in the lava pit, immortalized in Volcano.
OMG? Can I use MayDay in the month of June?
The trenches are dug,
We gotta go, guys,
Defend our country,
On the other side of the Rhine,
They don’t speak French,
On the other side of the Rhine,
They don’t speak German,
Sprechen Sie Deutsch ?
We gotta go, guys,
To die for a wheat field,
die for a mill,
To die for his children,
We gotta go, guys,
On the other side of the Rhine,
They don’t speak French,
On the other side of the Rhine,
They don’t speak German,
We gotta go, guys,
I could have been born in Saarbrücken,
I could have been born in Neuilly,
What a difference in the bottom,
We gotta kill each other, guys
Like hungry wolves,
Like bloody beasts,
Where’s the humanity, guys?
She’s in our houses,
On the banks of the Seine,
Under the sun of Arles,
It is in the port of Hamburg,
Nobody talks about it,
Humanity is the peace,
Peace is back, guys,
The peace of November 11.
Les tranchées sont creusées,
Il faut y aller les gars,
Défendre notre pays,
De l’autre côté du Rhin,
Ils ne parlent pas français,
De l’autre côté du Rhin,
Ils ne parlent pas allemand,
Il faut y aller les gars,
Mourir pour un champ de blé,
mourir pour un moulin,
Mourir pour ses enfants,
Il faut y aller les gars,
De l’autre côté du Rhin,
Ils ne parlent pas français,
De l’autre côté du Rhin,
Ils ne parlent pas allemand,
Il faut y aller les gars,
J’aurais pu naitre à Sarrebruck,
J’aurais pu naitre à Neuilly,
Quelle différence au fond,
Il faut s’entretuer les gars
Comme des loups affamés,
Comme des bêtes sanglantes,
Où est l’humanité les gars ?
Elle est dans nos maisons,
Sur le bord de la Seine,
Sous le soleil d’Arles,
Elle est dans le port de Hambourg,
Personne n’en parle,
L’Humanité c’est la paix,
La paix retrouvée, les gars,
La paix du onze novembre.
Without love
We are nothing
And we have nothing
When we have love
We have everything
And that’s something.
Where there’s no love
Reign total chaos, crimes, division
Havoc, death, and destruction
With true love
Doves and peacocks fly above
The firmament is light and blue
Everything is beautiful and new
Without love
We have nothing
And we are nothing.
Copyright © January 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
Sans L’Amour, Sine Amore
Sans l’amour
Nous ne sommes rien
Et nous n'avons rien
Quand nous avons l'amour
Nous avons toutes les roses
Et c'est quelque chose.
Où il n'y a pas d'amour
Règnent le chaos total, les crimes, la division
Les ravages, la mort et la destruction
Avec le véritable amour
Des colombes et des paons survolent le parcours
Le firmament est bleu et beau
Tout est clair et nouveau
Sans l’amour
Nous n'avons rien
Et nous ne sommes rien.
P.S. Traduction de ‘Without Love, Sine Amore’ en français
Par Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © janvier 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Ohne Liebe Sine Amore
Ohne Liebe
Wir sind nichts
Und wir haben nichts
Wenn wir Liebe haben
Wir haben alles
Und das ist etwas.
Wo es keine Liebe gibt
Totales Chaos, Spaltung, Verbrechen
Tod und Zerstörung herrschen
Mit wahrer Liebe
Oben fliegen Tauben und Pfauen
Das Firmament ist klar und blau
Alles ist schön und neu
Ohne Liebe
Wir haben nichts
Und wir sind nichts.
P.S. Übersetzung von „Without Love, Sine Amore“ auf Deutsch
Von Hebert Logerie.
Copyright © Januar 2024, Hébert Logerie, Alle Rechte vorbehalten
Hébert Logerie ist Autor mehrerer Gedichtbände.
Next to my son's anger
plate tectonics are nothing
to me. His unhappiness
was caused by me.
His purpose and mine
is to catch photons and
store them in our bones.
Time measures change
which continues without self-doubt.
There is no self there.
Therefore, why care about
my son's anger
or my guilt?
Is it possible as Deutsch
suggests that the changes
a self-aware organism can
applying the scientific method
instantiate are innumerable
compared to those of the sun
or any big bang?
Therefore, one must care
about the harm you've done
or the good you'd do.
As Stevens proved
the essential activity's
to imagine the world
then test it against the breeze.
What good is philosophy
without a confession
I sometimes hit
whenever angry
and can kill given
opportunity and permission.
My knowledge of enduring
seeds and periodic
elements is limited
by my impatience.
If I could stop
circle with a dot
breathing
perhaps then I would
understand myself. But
what is there to know about the self?
Long ago, according to Borges,
Shakespeare imposed
a self-imposed silence
on himself. He knew
what, that perfect acts,
accurate and factual,
actually requiring
microscopes and telescopes
for growing small and going far
take you to the very space a
gentle breeze and ridiculous bird
occupy at the end of the mind
at the end of your life.
"Death initiates a complex process by which the human body gradually
reverts to dust
but minerals may fill the cracks and voids, bonding the hydroxyapatite
and allowing the bones to join . . ."
in the happy tectonics
of the earth's plates.
I suppose it is surprising
And I shouldn't let you know it,
I've a hankering for the poetry
Of that old time Hoosier poet.
Perhaps you think his poems with
Their easy, rustic flavor
Are not poetic offerings
Sophisticates would savor.
"Little Orphant Annie"
Is a favorite of mine
Which I have read so often that
I've memorized each line.
"When the frost is on the punkin
And the fodder's in the shock",
I can almost hear the gobble
Of that strutting turkey cock.
Rilely's poems were loved by plainer folks
And scorned by the elite,
But he was the nicest fellow that
You'd ever want to meet.
There is something about his dialect
As it falls upon my ear
That is so endearing to me
That it almost makes me tear.
He was Indiana Hoosier Deutsch,
The same as my sweet dad.
His poems are composed of fractured words
That Daddy's stories had.
I've read the classics and I have
Their books throughout the house,
But only in Riley's have I found
A poem that mentions "souse".
That word brings back fond memories
Of many a butchering day
When Daddy made souse from the pig parts
Most folks would throw away.
When my days are dark and dreary
And I'm feeling under par
I pick up the tattered book of poems
By my favorite poet, JWR.
Inspired by Amy Green's contest "Wow me with inspiration". won hm
Should make you angry, not your bad,
To hate the perks most rich have had,
For rules get bent for them to gain,
Few saints address joint pilgrim's pain.
A level playing field's a joke,
Schools segregate, texts filled with smoke.
Rich draft the loopholes, pay less tax,
Wealth helps some not to 'serve' (just facts).
While plutocrats share poor man's flaws,
Some use their wealth to flaunt our laws.
Their nepotism does not stink,
If you buy 'press,' you own the ink.
The loudest voice is not the best,
But does stand out from all the rest.
Lord, save us all from country-speak (1)
That lauds the rich but smears the weak!
Brian Johnston
May 31, 2018
Poet's Notes:
(1) For me, these days 'Country Speak' is closely related to
a sad kind of self-serving patriotism that screams "My country,
right or wrong!" and sounds suspiciously to me like "Deutsch-
land Uber Alles!" which lacks a certain kind of humility I think!
Doesn't anyone else wonder why Trump refuses to distance
himself from Putin, racists, and American Nazis? Why did he
both slander his political opposition and threaten to imprison
them as well? If Hillary was guilty of a crime, why drop his
attacks after he won (if he was not in fact lying?) I pray to God
we don’t let him off so quickly!
It's only a paper-mache
moon, they say, too cool,
too full of interstellar space
to sympathize or stress about
lovers, kings and fools.
Or is it? According to Deutsch
the so-called final ignition
into outer space
is a product of man's meditations
moving, as if via gravitation
the magician to the other end
of the expanding universe. Sure,
in yr computer. Meanwhile, nursed
in a nursing home, mewling and peeing
as accurately predicted by Shakespeare
my old Marine, an ex-sailor, bitter
at life's ending, waited
too long to dispatch with dignity.
All alone, as in Corbiere's poem,
old soldiers are fated
to fight unnecessary wars
as we all are. Except for the fact that
every helium and hydrogen atom
ever born or made (whatever you believe)
has taken positions, passionate
and predetermined as republicans and dobermans
over eons and epochs. Thus
I don't think it behooves us much to care
if we're getting too little clean air or
bacteria are better adapted than us. This
obsession with identity, survival
a name and a leg of lamb is lame
even uninspired. The entire universe
including the professional baseball season
is canceled when yr dead. No blame.
"Wasch und Fun"
No need to translate for me for an hour and a half.
You left me to wash undies at the Wasch und Fun
while you shopped for lox and wine.
I found the soap and the wasch; but the Fun eludes.
Every patron,
even the suspect simultaneously wearing four pairs of pants,
switched out of Deutsch, enjoying the random and unexpected
dusting off of their Englisch.
We were united in our cluelessness
of the washing machines mannerisms and the
strange dichotomy on the open door with the sign that said “geschlossen”.
We washed in defiance of the sign, desperate for clean clothes on Christmas,
urgently willing the machines to finish drying before the sign proved true.
You blended into your town again; repatriated anonymity.
An American disguised as a local, shopping on Christmas eve in Freiburg,
while your new husband washed undies,
happily oblivious to almost every word anyone uttered.
Ninety minutes without a translator. Clean clothes and
Wine for Christmas in Deutschland.
Bitte.
- - -
JDZoller Copyright (c) December 2009