"czechoslovakia" poems
I broke your grandmother’s vase.
The blue one, patterned with lilacs,
liberated from a secondhand store
in Czechoslovakia in 1939.
Like your grandmother,
it came with stories:
she talked a German officer
into buying it for her
in exchange for a date
she never showed up for,
the year her brother
put her on a train with a trunk
full of dresses and a little sister,
a hundred korunas sewn
into her underwear, where she knew
no one would find them.
I broke your grandmother’s vase.
I knocked it off the shelf,
dove to catch it, missed,
and watched it shatter into
thirty-nine pieces, patterned with lilacs.
Thirty-nine, because I counted
every piece as I hid them
in a drawer in the shed behind
the house, beside the hammer
and wrench, where I knew
you would not find them.
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 3:12 PM UTC
The year I would turn nine
Charlie Kelly threw his pint over Paul Brennan
in the opening scenes of a new Irish drama
called Fair City. The 25th Dáil was dissolved.
Ireland got its 1st lotto millionaire.
There was talk of mining for gold in Mayo
and Christy O’Connor Jnr
won the Ryder Cup for Europe.
(Years later playing Trivial Pursuit
one of the questions wanted to know:
what profession gets the Ryder Cup? —
a cousin from Carlow answered; prostitutes.)
I was growing through 3rd class
St. Brendan’s National School; Loughrea —
on the other side of Tiananmen Square
another student stood up
as the Guildford Four walked free
after 14 years innocently incarcerated.
While in Germany, a wall
that had been built to divide: separate, fell.
Pushed over by people. While Hungry, Poland
and Czechoslovakia: all said: enough.
The Russians left Afghanistan and in South Africa
Apartheid began to crumble. Pity
it was allowed to even begin.
Iran was ****** off about some book
and on Christmas Day in Romania
Mr and Mrs Ceausescu were executed.
In 1989, the Church of Ireland allowed female priests.
96 people died at Hillsborough.
Haughey was Taoiseach,
Mr. Heaney was conferred
as Professor of Poetry at Oxford
and we qualified for Italia 90.
I was 9 and the only thing I remember
about that year; I fell out of a tree
and broke my arm.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 11:53 AM UTC
We were states of matter
until we had chemistry
a pure of mix elements causing eradication
and more like atomic radiation
we were powerful
an affective pair
then biology taught me
to value every heart beat of yours
every tissue to cells
every cytoplasm to mitochondria
and that Czechoslovakia
that you were from
had a capital named Prague
during world history
but nothing interesting than your story
during our midnight phone call
then mathematics taught me to calculate the distance between us
and physics showed me our chance of collision in every single velocity
I have used all kinds of formulas I learnt to solve our problem
but dear
I got the answer of
good bye
Good bye,
High School.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 7:32 AM UTC
both my grandfather and father
were army conscripts
without the benefit of a choice,
it was conscription...
Marshall Law was introduced,
hungary didn't feel like a satellite any more,
nor did Czechoslovakia in the 60s...
the poles were eager to keep the empire
intact like the Vietnamese, ironically
without as much violence,
just empty supermarket shelves...
i wasn't given such a benefit,
i had to learn a "woman's" trade,
being enlisted in the army would
have assuredly given me a
chance progression into a suitable life,
even a lifestyle! i'd be earning enough
to distract myself with theatre and opera!
alas! i'm not that well instructed
to enjoy a comfortable revenue and
the comfort of sadistic ballerinas
(what i mean is an education in taking orders
and not daydream, kept order, a clean
pair of shoes, a suit that's not creased)...
i know, modern pop and the 8 minute long
prog rock piece... let's test our attention
spans and care for distractions of
digression off the rhythm...
it's not necessarily rap worded,
nothing about the ghetto,
it's not exactly jam-rock Kingston town
aphrodisiac... i call it a shared salute,
a black panther with a shaved head.. well,
somewhere along the line we need a feeling
of being in it together.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
The approximate weight of Czechoslovakia
is the world we see a reality
or is the world of our dreams the real reality
from the infinitesimal of atoms and quarks
to the enormity of our universe
it is the perspective of our view
but is what we view – real
was there a beginning
and is there an end
if the big bang is real
was the last time
the first time
or
has this happened
100, 1000, 1000000 times
unless you are GOD
I doubt you really have a clue
it to me is like guessing
The approximate weight of Czechoslovakia
Gomer LePoet...
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
There are thirty of us under a torn canopy
where the sound of wind blowing against canvas
assaults me as if I were being beaten. We will
soon ride into the hills and **** pine; to fell
the mighty as if the mighty are horseweeds.
Every callused man here hates his weapon;
worn chainsaws that would make better
tools to fight wolves than walk the earth
clearing stands of timber.
********************************************
Twelve of the original thirty loggers come back
for our 48th consecutive day; it rains as if prehistoric
elk hover over the camp and **** a lake upon us. Six men
go home within an hour because farming and stocking
cans of tuna at grocery stores appear more plausible than
wallowing in mire with saws, wedges, and chains with links
the size of your mother’s fist. It is work and God ****
every man needs to eat or help feed a family. The money
is not good, conditions like Czechoslovakia WW II.
The six of us who remain, leave.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
When Kafka got up to danska
the band played desafinado
for a deliciously exciting polka
and a dreary two step of Vienna
but he only danskaed the tango
to appease his latent fandango
Kafka got lost in the danska
discovering his passionate waltza
embracing his favourite *****
he hastily finished his unfinished
and secretly went to his America
much desafinado about nothing
he mused of dansking in Alaska
by buying a fur hat in Canada
but it only danskaed the polka
back home in Czechoslovakia
the hat was really not bothered
as long as the danska was polka
and Kafka was quite very travodkad
and occasionally marlony brandyed
dancing a lost tango in anchorage
so ominously close to old Russia
and Doctor Zhivago’s new locum
with much more of that desafinado
and even less dansking his tango
he quietly learned to play banjo
but he found it all a bit of a trial.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
The History Extra Podcast
Product of the BBC
I heard a great talk from this series
The woman interviewed three women
In their 70's now
All born during the holocaust
Their mothers disguised their pregnancies
They were sent to a labor camp instead of Auschwitz
They did not draw attention to themselves
Surviving in baggy clothing
And clog wooden shoes
Surviving on bread, watery soup, and water
They were about 70 pounds
Two of them gave birth on the train
They held their babies close
In the bagging clothing
They still produced milk
They received some badly needed food in Czechoslovakia
The babies survived
All three of the mothers were given too much food
By the Americans
And they did not make it
May they rest in peace
One baby had healthy conditions
But was treated with penicillin by the Americans
And was fine
These women met recently at a Holocaust survivor meeting
To share there stories
The love of the mother is great
Love is stronger than hate
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC