"leningrad" poems
I am wheat
I cry, I cry
Again
You leave your dead
At my feet
Oh why, oh why
At Gettysburg
We cried
Again, again
They rose and died
Below our stalks
They lie, they lie
From Stalingrad
To Leningrad
One million dead, one million dead
The Panzers came
Wheat fields aflame
They burned, they burned
And once again
You leave your dead
Ukraine, Ukraine
Oh, Putin's shame
The innocent lie
In wheat, in wheat.
r ~ 7/19/14
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
I have enough treasures from the past
to last me longer than I need, or want.
You know as well as I . . . malevolent memory
won't let go of half of them:
a modest church, with its gold cupola
slightly askew; a harsh chorus
of crows; the whistle of a train;
a birch tree haggard in a field
as if it had just been sprung from jail;
a secret midnight conclave
of monumental Bible-oaks;
and a tiny rowboat that comes drifting out
of somebody's dreams, slowly foundering.
Winter has already loitered here,
lightly powdering these fields,
casting an impenetrable haze
that fills the world as far as the horizon.
I used to think that after we are gone
there's nothing, simply nothing at all.
Then who's that wandering by the porch
again and calling us by name?
Whose face is pressed against the frosted pane?
What hand out there is waving like a branch?
By way of reply, in that cobwebbed corner
a sunstruck tatter dances in the mirror.
Leningrad, 1960
3.5k
an old familiar,
an adversary of the first degree,
when we wrestle,
me and this god
disguised as an angel disguised as man,
the door to where we tangle,
clicks shut with a perceptible oval sounding,
a trumpet announcing commencement of the festivities,
that we are
Occupado
no stray observers permitted in,
the room entrances locked,
someone's two hands upon each temple,
(cannot be mine, for)
inside we combat literally,
"mano-a-mano"
hand to hand,
word to word,
gradually, continuously,
up close and personally,
one on
One
over the course of a lifetime,
each battle named,
famously borrowed and thus recorded,
Agincourt, Waterloo, Gettysburg, Leningrad, Ðiên Biên Phú,
for the record keeping purposes of our unforgiving ******
historian
the rules of engagement somewhat flexible,
biting, choking, eye gouging,
kicking when down, not just legal,
encouraged, no holds barred,
when we wrestle,
the dirtier the
better
take turns declaring a victor,
for that matters little, truly,
just a record keeping notation,
the battle and its aftermath,
the waves of pain inflicted,
the casualty count engorged,
is the greatest glory,
dans une manière de
parler
though sent away the children,
our earthly goods,
designating them purportedly,
non-combatants observers,
yet 'no rules' meant
they could be accidentally drawn in,
non-combatant status does not prevent them
from being freely captured or
killed
the conflict ongoing,
no one ever calls for a truce,
for both unequal adversaries know,
no quarter will ere be given,
and though the tide shifts,
each individual battle produces as always,
a winner and a
loser
noisy affairs,
long after the battle,
the slain yet scream,
perhaps I am confused,
perhaps it is the day's survivors,
announcing that sadly,
they are still
alive
it must be the latter,
for here I am writing and recording,
and though alone,
I hear an ever growing louder,
gouging sine wave scream piercing,
daring my soul to leave my wracked
body
for though mortal wounded,
I am therefore
both dead and alive,
but which more so,
none can surely
say
this conflict remains
unconcluded
the pain in my hip, now
everywhere,
my Jacob, now, Israel,
marker
so visible even if itself,
unseen
3:59am
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
.university was such a bad idea... i'm starting to think... isn't university the place where only women and rapists are admission worthy?! forget the men... you're on your own!
gorgeous lisp...
Fionna
from Fraserburgh...
worked in
a nightclub to
pay for a mandolin,
and play her maggie may...
outside her window...
her sweetness imbue of
honey and the letter G
stumbling into a "stutter"....
and?
one detail...
she loved
queen's innuendo...
the ooh ooh bit
and the otherwise
Spanish rodrigo
in-between composer...
i left Edinburgh...
because my heart was
not into it...
my eyes were...
but in my heart...
i was not standing on
an island, but an iceberg...
too many English
private school educatde kids...
too much interconnected
meritocracy bargains...
said via grandfather earned
ditto position through
the connectivity of his, father's
father...
no...
i won't have that
******** hanging before
me like a carrot, while
i play the donkey...
sorry... no...
shouldn't have lied
about your mother being your sister,
and your grandmother being
your mother...
then?!
Leningrad would
have made sense!
thankfully?
it still doesn't!
and doubly thankful for it
that i am, in saying:
it, never, will!
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 10:15 PM UTC
Dmitri Shostakovich woke up feeling sad
In his home town of Leningrad;
The naughty Nazis were shelling his lovely Russian city -
So, for consolation, he ****** hard on his wife's left *****
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
The first round is celebrities,
probably a knockout for me.
Most people I could mention would
be lucky still to be on pension.
My geography now is history.
Leningrad has already been purged
but where have they put Calcutta?
Oh! Calcutta - the internet I suppose.
I'm told that trivia and me don't fit.
Still, not much does these days.
Pass the cocoa and Rich Teas, please.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Leningrad Lindsey
And Moscow Mitch
One’s a chameleon
The other a-bitch
It’s hard to figure out
Which one is which
They both have a tendency
To position switch
Leningrad Lindsey
And Moscow Mitch
Make a hell of a pair
You must admit
One’s been enchanted
The other has a glitch
But both ‘em tend to
Favor the rich
Leningrad Lindsey
And Moscow Mitch
Speak in unison
In perfect pitch
On behalf of the interests
They hope to enrich
With a snake oil like
Smooth sales pitch
Leningrad Lindsey
And Moscow Mitch
Are enough together
To give you barber’s itch
Call me what cha wanna
Even a snitch
But they’re both on a wagon
Without a hitch
Cedric McClester, copyright © 2019. All rights resrved.
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 12:06 AM UTC
Leningrad in the spring of '81
Now that was a spring break
Sans the Florida girls
Three nights there
Two more in Moscow
The hotel room in Leningrad
Two whole days of *******
The bosses wife
And the knocking on the doors
By the military dependents
"Keep the noise down,
Knock that off" they plead
"Don't you know what time it is?"
I have no other memory of Leningrad
Because I never got to see any of it
The best time I ever had
in Moscow, the buildings, so grand
I just wanted to take a picture
and was surrounded by guards with
guns
Really big men with very big guns
Upon a pat down the KGB found
A pack of cigarettes on my person
"American Marlboros" he exclaimed
While passing them out to his buddies
"Here, try one of ours" he states
while offering a Russian version
of the same product/not the same product
I choked on it "see" said the cop
"You Americans RICH"
Comrades, have you seen him?
The great imperialist
The man who will destroy us
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
How far is it really from the murdered children
dead in the snow at Wounded Knee
to the crows eating the frozen eyes of German soldiers
before the gates of Leningrad?
How far from the hanging flesh of Hiroshima
to the piles of bodies at My Lai?
I have watched the news for 50 years
and it all seems like reruns to me.
So on the advice of a frisky, fearless wise woman
I stopped and now although death and destruction persist
I am free to concentrate on the things that matter to me.
Anyway, if the world ends, someone will let me know.
~mce
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
I have never experienced death around me
Not once.
I have yet to go to war,
I haven't even seen an animal get run over
By a speeding oaf trying to get home on time.
Yet, death occurs every second
Almost every second.
Why is it that I have not seen it then?
I should count my blessings and not look in a mirror.
My grandfather definitely saw death.
I called him Pop, he was in World War II,
I wasn't old enough to ask him about such troubles.
Then again, would I ask him about them now?
Would he dare speak the unspeakable
The harshness of war,
The noise all the cacophony,
Buildings, architecture, torn down,
Beautiful cities once covered with life,
The bright colors of Venezia the somber rain of London
Destroyed in an instant.
I don't think I'd have the ***** to **** someone,
I question my own loyalty to my country
Would I fight to protect my home,
Or would I hideaway in another country,
Or claim I am a racist?
(I think that only works when you have to do jury duty,
But I think I would try anything, sadly.)
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:21 AM UTC
The city offers me nothing
but mortal mortar and soulless stone.
Destiny summoned me here:
to Nature, my forgotten home.
We voted against a union
and were met with derision
For all whom had hailed
a vengeful decision.
Within the distant dreams
of a broken ghostly soul.
His cryptic mind's silver lining
Weaving a fable left unforetold.
My inner voice is translucent
with rays of light, shining through
like a silhouette over water.
Echoes over my hometown
A fleeting feeling amidst the cold.
You said something, but
Your words meant nothing.
Shadows over Leningrad
Shostakovich's theme.
Shadows over Sochi
A conservative dream.
"Thou shalt not give into the gimmicks."
"An urban fox as a metaphor for societal shunning."
"Commerica & Collaborative Chaos"
"A Friendly Fascist"
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
in my crown dream
i am a captain
i sail the seas
from age to age
blindly i wait
for't all to happen
still i am just
an icthiophage
aftermorrow i can see my fate
to rot in a cell or burn at the stake
the fruits that i ate were paltry and poor
an' i won't grow above five-foot-four
i've been way out, way far
over the top and across the line
paris, dubrovnik, leningrad
drop the pictureframe and let us unwind
mother can you tell me
how am i to carry on?
life is a jungle
entangled as the amazon
living in a coma
sheltered thoughts and faltered dreams
life as a loner
ain't much use in questioning....
on top of old smokey
eagles fly up and sing me to sleep
on top of the beat, the world is complete
the fire dies down and dark jupiter frowns
singing way out, beyond the stars
reaching the limits of venus and mars
half-glazed, half-mad
trying is lying the dying i've had
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 11:00 PM UTC
Weakness is there to be exploited.
You learned fast, you saw the siege grow.
Abandoned, alone, countries disembowelled;
You scheme on which way to go.
Once home you rise as the shadow that can –
Fierce loyalty has benefits to come.
Quietly, the wolf, in your sheepskin coat
Plans to undo all that’s been done.
Leningrad’s voice became Yeltsin’s debt
Their safe passage guaranteed your gain.
Control reaches out - your life long advent -
As you tighten that belt from Baskov Lane.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
Quiet Despair
In a besieged town
In Syria
Snow falls
People starves
Children die
We are powerless
Against
Those who are
Wrong
And those who are right
Snow falls
Silently on
Quiet despair
I think of
Leningrad
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 5:25 AM UTC
Weaknesses are to be taken advantage of.
You learned fast, you saw the siege grow.
Abandoned, alone, countries disembowelled;
You scheme on which way to go.
Once home you rise as the shadow that can –
Fierce loyalty has benefits to come.
Quietly, the wolf, in your sheepskin coat
You plan to undo all that’s been done.
Leningrad’s voice became Yeltsin’s debt
Their safe passage guaranteed your gain.
Control reaches out - your life long lament -
As you tighten that belt from Baskov Lane
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Putin
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC