"ludwig" poems
Aunt Lottie had a slow and careful walk
every step could jar
the delicate balance
of the fragile grand piano
she had swallowed.
It was no ordinary instrument
it was entirely made of crystal
which added to the fears
of its disturbance
or destruction
by the simplest slip or stumble
or missed footing on a step.
It was a slight inconvenience
she had taken in her stride.
Matters concerning the said piano
were only discussed in hushed tones
on Wednesday afternoons
and only with her dearest nephew, Ludwig
who sensitively seemed to understand
the precious nature of imagination
and the tickling discomforts
of digested furniture and such things
as fancy may create.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
Black & Yellow
– for Wiz Khalifa ✌
*“Stay high like I’m supposed to do, that crown
underneath them clouds, can’t get close to you.”*
On the first day, he was pushed.
Robust in stance, the other forced,
this boy down the marble stairs
of the Catholic church, the school
renovated the Summer before
Khalifa began his studies,
in junior high.
The ballet was his passion,
Latin was the language that so
fluently was spoken from
his lips. The Professor smiled,
another victory accomplished.
Khalifa’s mom was so proud of
her blue eyed boy.
Rapped in a ball, he waited
for all students & halls to clear.
Rolled over, picked himself up
took to the washroom, knowing
he needed to be presentable
for his mom stood at the school gate,
brimming with pride.
All of his dreams, mystical.
Don Quixote & The Nutcracker,
fluid streams of poetry;
Elliot, Poe, Wilde. The love
letters of Ludwig van Beethoven.
Born to dance all Principal roles,
a lovers’ prose.
By four, he was ready to
leave school. Tentatively walking,
no predators in sight, out
the main door. Leaving behind
a haunting first day. Listening to
Tchaikovsky; his release, his home,
his saving grace.
© Sia Jane
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Good old Ludwig von Beethoven
Wrote music that was greathoven
His deafness didn’t preclude
The greatness of this dude
But now, alas, he is latehoven
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 10:08 AM UTC
The year was nineteen forty six, the memories still raw,
Europe’s Jews were still encamped as they had been before.
True, they now had food to eat and decent clothes to wear,
But in that Displaced Persons camp, little else to spare.
When Lilly told her fiancé about her dream one night;
her standing beneath the chuppah in a flowing gown of white,
Ludwig promised Lilly that her vision would come true,
but in a displaced person’s camp that might be hard to do.
A former Luftwaffe pilot proved an angel in disguise;
Ludwig traded, for his parachute, some coffee and supplies.
Miriam, the seamstress, swore to do her best
to fashion the silk parachute into a wedding dress.
Some miles from Bergen Belsen lies the little town of Celle
Its desecrated synagogue would serve the couple well.
They made an Aron Kodesh from a kitchen cabinet
A Rabbi, flown from England, would officiate their fete.
Lilly’s gown was beautiful, the bride felt like a Queen
Within the battered synagogue, her wedding matched her dream.
Miriam’s creation would be worn by many more;
Girls from camp made brides in white that year after the war.
The Gown’s in a museum now, the bride now old and gray.
She lives nearby in Brooklyn in a house down by the bay.
Her lovely great granddaughter, her loving heart’s delight,
now has the dream of being wed in a gown of flowing white.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
Ludwig van Beethoven had a wretched cook;
who could make him a good soup?
He got in a mood and threw a book,
as the servant was such a fool,
to lie and act like a mule.
Ach! ***** Beethoven complains;
bad cooking gives him pains.
Only those whose heart is pure, will not find,
their soup on the floor.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
This song is written on my heart.
Each note hangs in the air before turning to smoke
and we inhale it here in your little bed,
breathe it in as we have most nights since you were born.
Not so long ago
I was someone else
Who was not your mother.
You don’t know her,
the Me who spent months of her young life poring over the sheet music.
I still have it, teenage pencil scratch covering the entire first movement.
“Sticky top notes” and “written when he was going deaf!” and rows of chord forms,
glyphs,
a cipher.
(Did you know:
Beethoven was dead when Ludwig Rellstab compared the famous first movement of his Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor to moonlight shining on a lake?
The sonata previously entitled “Quasi una fantasia.” Almost a fantasy.
The sonata written in blood from a broken body and a broken heart.
Poor dead Beethoven. Our art is truly not our own).
It strikes me odd
that a song such as this one
has become what it has become.
Radiance in despair, I suppose,
is universal in its bright raw frankness.
We stare. It stares back.
Tonight, blessedly,
that chasm of grief alive still and forever in the delicate weaving vines of plaintive melody stemming darkly from it
is far from your door.
Your breaths are slow and even now.
The song closes,
as it always does,
trying and failing to claw out of the darkness.
But you don’t know that.
Tonight it’s just a beautiful song.
And I am no one else
but your mother.
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 1:25 AM UTC
Ludwig Ii
A Bavarian King with no bone bad
A Bavarian King introverted not mad
A king who lived life by night
A king who stayed out of sight
The Swan king was his given name
from Bavarian bloodstock he came Maximilians Death took away his youth
On throne pomp splendoured and couth
Peer pressure never kneel
Twas Opera Ludwig did feel
Robert Wagner was his one true love
Ludwig fitted Wagner hand in glove
A queen, A queen the Bavarians did wish
Lovestruck Elsa dry eyes diminish
Conformity died during Ludwigs reign
His sexuality showed no shame
Lake Starnberg scene of demise
Mystery death ****** or boat capsize
The King ,The King long live the King
Life lived how he chose Ludwig ii
A Bavarian King with no bone bad
A Bavarian King introverted not mad
A king who lived life by night
A king who stayed out of sight
The Swan king was his given name
from Bavarian bloodstock he came Maximilians Death took away his youth
On throne pomp splendoured and couth
Peer pressure never kneel
Twas Opera Ludwig did feel
Richard Wagner was his one true love
Ludwig fitted Wagner hand in glove
A queen, A queen the Bavarians did wish
Lovestruck Elsa dry eyes diminish
Conformity died during Ludwigs reign
His sexuality showed no shame
Lake Starnberg scene of demise
Mystery death ****** or boat capsize
The King ,The King long live the King
Lived life how he chose with no offspring
Thank You
Martyn Grindrod
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
“The trouble is, we think there’s time”
Buddha said it so urgent
Complete with Sanskrit contractions
The baby delivering doctor saying we all have a cancer, no matter how slow
so pick up your passions with a god’s effortlessness
Play a concerto that makes your hair stand on end
because the music was more important than a reflective surface
Looking like a you were born in a stormy garret
Writing, thinking, and plucking, as if the gods set you there
instead of the million hopeless mediocre ones
No, instead you are brethren to those gods
All competing for immortal kicks – like mortal tail
Until the game board perspective ceases
looking down on the plebeian pantheon
and it’s just you and what you lived for
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
Magical movies 10+ trillion sold
Of war, love, and mysteries untold
Napoleon, Alexander, Abraham
Have your war stories right
While Adolf, Osama, and Ivan
Hold a darker light
Or maybe you want a fun family show
We have Albert, Ludwig, and Walt
To make your child's smile glow.
Or if you want ****** mystery
We have a man named Jack
He puts out misery
And could never be tracked
Or a comedy, who doesnt love those?
We have Salvador, Charlie, and Lupin
Men who laughed like pros
So come grab a fix of life
We captured each moment
Just for your delight
Their pain, their joy
You shall feel it all
We are the eyeglass
You are their soul
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
I don't know what to do from here.
It just seems as if the entire world is fixated on some infinite screen.
So all encompassing, yet images flicker in fantastic frivolity.
Such absolutely aimless anomie
erodes the mind, heart, and soul of everything.
To the point of true societal insanity.
Where we'd rather chemically synthesize the taste of an apple,
than to plant an apple tree.
Nations wage wars in the name of peace while
Corporations, not people, enjoy freedom of speech.
Is this what it means to be a human being?
Are we encoded with DNA or with binary?
What of your beating heart? if it still pumps.
Or have your cells of blood all become zeroes and ones?
Do you look out upon the shimmering sea to be humbled and awed?
Or do your eyes map out it's marketability, growth index, and overhead costs!?
Oh, what of a metaphor for societal insanity.
To depict society as an orchestral piece;
They are all strings vibrating in the very wrong key,
resonating on a global scale in such horrific harmonies.
Yet they'll incorporate,
they'll advertise,
they'll trade the stock publicly!
They'll call it a symphony.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
i tyle, reszta na coin flip
twoich ambicji;
mam, po, prostu (nie mazowieckie czy kieleckie)
kichaniem dosyć!
syty jam i z prostatą oddany w mgle pychy;
ja serw memu mieniu i ozora
(tej trzeciej krwi krowy)
poeta!
do końca wasz iglak wczorajszej wigilii
(zmień to a zmienisz czasowność):
rada memu panie... więcej narodu czy tem
racji czy tem dumy czy tem innego stanowiska
na głąbie poza polską ja racze;
ja racze! wilka gniew nad lud!
z resztą, okiem morsa fabryk na tle miganiu
to tylko nic! a mój brat kim?! obcy mocar?!
nie! nie, nie ja ludwig rus czy pruss, niet ich!
oj naród a ja jako atlas, wraz z izraelem,
a ty jako kompas, a warszawa jako kamień tonie
w wodzie hystorji wraz z napoleonem,
a więć kraków raz jeszcze wstanie wraz z mongołem;
tylko anglia może oddalać dume swego rodu
sama mniej dumna swego początku w niemczech.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
Last night, I slept with Ludwig; the night before, Wolfgang.
Tomorrow, Johannes has promised me a vigorous work-out.
Not for me the ascetic pilgrimage to the gates of good taste.
I must have passion, for that will point me to truth.
Last night I slept with Ludwig, so now I am ready.
Music-lovers of Chicago: watch me walk onto the platform,
shimmering but dignified in midnight blue diamanté.
Prepare to hear my translation of feelings into sound.
Ludwig's feelings.
Everyone's feelings.
Last night I slept with Ludwig.
Now, I claim my reward. After the final chord,
applause is compulsory. Louder! Louder! Stand up and cheer!
You are my people. Love me! Love me, why don't you?
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
Running rings around thirteen hours of opera
I sit spell-bound absorbing the angry music
Suppressing an urge to re-conquer Poland
Music a direct expression of world’s essence
**** passion means Israel is Wagner-free
Tristan and Isolde unplayed before Ludwig
Love and death and passion for Mathlde
Eros and Thanathos that predate Freud
Arthurian love story interrupted by Minna
Overwhelming influence frustrates his peers
Worried that his brilliance is simply anger
That guarantees you feel undead tonight.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
Yochana
sits beside
Angela
her best friend
Miss G plays
Beethoven
on the old
gramophone
piano piece
sonata
Yochana
likes this one
the music
stirs her up
conjures up
images
desires
Angela
looks behind
at the back
of the class
she sees them
the two boys
sitting bored
eyeing her
Rowland pokes
out his tongue
but Benny
has that smile
that hair quiff
how is she
he lip talks
Yochana?
she turns back
to the front
he's looking
she informs
Yochana
that Benny
I don't care
about him
Yochana
says softly
(not wanting
to disturb
Beethoven)
but she does
she senses
his hazel
eyes touching
her body
bringing out
hot flushes
distracts her
emotions
from music
Beethoven
(poor Ludwig)
pushed aside
and she feels
Benny’s eyes
hazel warm
look inside.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 4:12 AM UTC
(dedicated to Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827)
The inexpressible expressed
In the indefinable.
A reach undimmed by time, soaring,
Falling, twisting, rolling, tugging.
One moment skimming lightly, poised
In fragile marble, shattered by
Mere observation; then standing
Tall atop the world, imperious
Like the hero who betrayed you -
A monument to yourself.
Giving your life to the very
Joy in which you could not share.
The music that entered your head
In your youth never left it,
Reverberating through silence.
Your legacy is victory,
Only enriched by tragedy.
Your struggle echoes across time,
Connecting you with me, and all
Who seek to know and feel, through the
Universal language of the heart,
What it is to be truly human.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 8:21 AM UTC
Ludwig van Beethoven had a wretched cook;
who could make him a good soup?
He got in a mood and threw a book,
as the servant was such a fool,
to lie and act like a mule.
Ach! ***** Beethoven complains;
bad cooking gives him pains.
Only those whose heart is pure, will not find,
their soup on the floor.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
they say that anyone can make it here;
you just need some will and some way and
all of it can be all you ever dreamed.
they don't tell you that the waitress -
the one who fills your coffee mug to the brim
and smiles at your meager two-dollar tip -
can play Beethoven's 9th better than Ludwig himself;
or that the homeless man on the corner
wrapped in yesterday's newspapers
begging for the change you don't have
just wanted to be a star once upon a time.
they don't tell you about the failures,
the missed chances,
the "better-luck-next-time-kid".
they tell you about that one-in-a-million,
that lucky strike.
they say that anyone can make it here
but they don't mean you.
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 10:16 AM UTC
Frost makes patterns on the window panes
as his warm breath rises into the cold room.
Seated at his piano, the labour of his fingers on the keys,
ice trickles down the glass, like a tear drop.
Outside, voices rise into the October air,
their breath forming small clouds
of daily concerns, admonishments,
hurried footsteps, carriages passing by the window.
He rises to light the fire, sips at hot coffee,
warmth seeping within, quill scratches at paper,
creative fire rising, the ice withdraws, flows
into a series of memories, expressed by warm fingertips.
Tentatively, slowly, an inner world is revealed,
of a musician whose ears are frozen to chattering voices,
but who strikes fire into the hearts of those
who listen, and are swept away by the flood of passion.
Memories rise and fall with the notes in his silent room;
faces of those loved and lost, and longings to hear again,
the sound of the wind carrying the song of birds, shepherd's flutes,
and the timbre of sweet conversation.
With a soft sigh, he falls into her smile and rippling laughter;
the rising music pours out a torrent of youthful hope, then anguished despair, descending into quavering acceptance,
as browned leaves drift against the window.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
I was there all the time, while you were gone
One day you were there, the next day, gone
Everything was going good
So I never understood what went wrong
I never understood what I did so wrong
Because one day you were there
And the next day; bright, and early, gone
I never understood how another girl
Became your "number one"
Things started to turn south
When I noticed you were gone more
You'd make sure you were always quiet
When you managed to make your way home
And came through the door
Quiet as can be, so you didn't wake me up
Because you didn't want me to know
That you were actually out after work
With some girl who had a baby
Which made you look like a creep
How could you hit me below the belt, so deep?
You went and wandered the streets
Looking for someone else to satisfy
You and your petty selfish needs
You were playing house with someone else
Giving someone else the attention I was supposed to get
Not even caring to ask how I even felt
You hit me in the face one, slapped rather
That was a one time thing, not a big deal or matter
Because you hit me in front of my mother
And she told you point blank
"If you're going to hit my daughter;
You need to take a breath and really think"
And then I chimed in with;
"It's okay because if he ever tries or does it again;
I'll go to jail for breaking his **** hand."
The audacity this fool think he had
Cheated on me because I can't have kids
And he apparently wanted to be a dad
All you had to do was say something to me
That's something I would have come to understand
But instead you became unfaithful and left me sad
I really had feelings for you because I became obsessed
Starting going to work with you
And sitting in your vehicle for 8-12 hours like I was possessed
You drove me so crazy I didn't know what else to do
Then one day it all became clear
I wasn't needed anymore here
So I left, and never looked back.
Stephanie A. Ludwig
04/25/2025
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 5:33 PM UTC
“The human races from which great nations
with a broad & progressive culture emerged
that has influenced all of ancient & modern
history to this day, and of which many very
talented nations & still vibrant & progressing —
[these great races number only two]:
_the Semites_ & the Indo-Europeans _or Aryans_.”
- Joseph Klausner
Klausner had earlier used the term “savage”
in his book “Ha’adam Hakadmon”
(“Prehistoric Man”), on the foundations of anthropology,
published in Warsaw in 1900 by Tushiya Press.
There Klausner referred to Sigismond Zaborovsky’s work
“The Prehistoric Man,” published in French in 1878;
a pair of books on the prehistoric age
written by Moriz Hoernes & published
in German in 1892 and 1897, as well
as on works by race researchers
like Karl Penka, author of “The Aryan Origin” (1886)
& Ludwig Wilser, author of “The Origin of the Germans” (1885)
& “The Prehistoric Origins of the Aryans” (1899).
Decades before the Nazis, Penka
& Wilser laid the groundwork
for the racial doctrines glorifying
the purity and supremacy of the Aryan race;
Klausner’s book was a collection of excerpts
from these works, translated into Hebrew;
a Jewish diaspora
who coalesced during the Holy Roman
Empire around the end of the first millennium;
Ashkenazi Jewish intelligence, often referred
to as the "Jewish Genius" is a subject that
explores why Ashkenazi Jews tend to have
[Marx, Freud, Einstein & Hollywood formulating a Judeo-centered worldview
posing as atheism: Neitzche's
pronouning the Death of YHWH, buried
beside his son; both graves empty;
the Jews rejecting Christ: a higher intelligence
than all other ethnic [despite the prevalent
myth, evidence indicates actual
Ashkanazi are more or less borderline ********
the "Ashkanazi Genius" surviving
solely in the poetry of Bob Dylan;
groups and excel disproportionately in many
[Jung also rejected this covert Zionism]
fields, and has been an occasional subject
of scientific controversy;
The average IQ score of Ashkenazi
Jews has been calculated to be from
a range of 110–115, significantly higher
than any other ethnic group in the world;
Today's Ashkenazi Jews suffer from
a number of congenital diseases and
mutations at higher rates than most
other ethnic groups
Ashkenazi Jews, also known as
Ashkenazic Jews or simply Ashkenazim
(Hebrew: אַשְׁכְּנַזִּים, Ashkenazi Hebrew
pronunciation: [ˌaʃkəˈnazim], singular:
[ˌaʃkəˈnazi], Modern Hebrew: [aʃkenaˈzim,
aʃkenaˈzi]; also יְהוּדֵי אַשְׁכְּנַז Y'hudey Ashkenaz):
Ashkenazi students in West Bank school
protest against end of Sephardi-Ashkenazi
segregation; Ministry threatens to prosecute parents.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
who has met someone and they had such a strong connection that you change things about ur self.....
like from buying Michael Jackson stuff....I met you I told u I spent like 2000. on mj stuff...and u said I should cherish memories not materialistic items..
or how to spell certain words....or how to appreciate being with family even though they make u want to be high or drunk...
or to watch movies you wouldn't normally.....like ''DEARLY BELOVED'". Or to read long paragraphs on Ludwig Beethoven or that I need to read between lines and that taught me to anaylise (don't care) things people say so I could find u....
you taught me that I shouldn't always be so miserable and think bad things ,,,,,which made me watch closer *** I thought u were up to no good and u were....all kidding aside though....
You told me if my one boy kicks the other one in the {privates} crotch then if he pee's right after it will make a lot of the pain go away...if it works I have no idea....but if I see that happen...I always think of what u say....
the main thing is.....u taught me how to love someone....and I never knew I was doing it wrong, but I was....cus no one has made me feel the way u do...but its over now *** u wont allow urself to love me....very sad...cus were our souls keeper and if my heart after 2 mos.....still feels like this then were suppose to be together...or something...I don't know...but I love u.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 5:06 AM UTC
STOP; Take your clothes off, it'll be okay, I swear, I'll climb on top
DROP; I don't want to get naked, I'm innocent! I refuse, please stop!
& ROLL; No one will believe you, you're too young;
And they will look at me and think "he's way too old"
STOP; Do as your told and none of this will hurt; I'll be gentle, now get on top
DROP; I don't want to be under you, I don't want to be above you, please, stop!
& ROLL; DO AS YOU'RE TOLD LITTLE GIRL, I'll treat your body like a piece of gold
None of it will hurt if you just obey! But I don't want to be on your pole!
STOP; STOP FUSSING, turn around and lay on your stomach;
Take your shorts and pull them down, if I do it, I won't stop
DROP; Why are you doing this to me?? What did I do to deserve this? PLEASE STOP!!
&ROll; I'm getting sick and tired of listening to you cry and whine,
So shut up and do as you're told!
Been through this with so many different men, I swear they're all the same
I told people, but no one listened because I was too scared to give up their names
So now, I suffer with complex ptsd, and undiagnosed adult ADHD
nightmares that wake me up and cause severe social anxiety,
Forever broken, forever wounded, never healing, forever ******* up mentally
I became an addict for the longest time because of this abuse, especially sexually
I was self harming, trying to overdose, trying to run away;
But with nowhere to run, and no one to tell,
because no one believed anything I had to say
I'm healing now but only as a recovering addict
I turned lesbian for a while and that only covered up the pain
With a woman I really didn't know who she was, pretending with a smile
Swore to myself that I was done and over anything or anyone with a ****
But here I am, finding myself loving someone who took me away from all this
Someone who treats me like the person I deserve to be, the person I need to be
So how come I'm trapped in this mental spiral of all my wrong doings?
Of all my past relationships and all my past abusers?
They wreck havoc in my mind like the sinking titanic ship
Oh god, those nights where I just wanted to hang myself with my very own whip
STOP; Don't let anyone take control over you! SCREAM AND SHOUT STOP!!
DROP; Don't let someone tell you that it's okay, it's normal, it's fun,
KICK THEM SQUARE IN THEIR NUTS AND RUN WHILE YELLING HELP HELP HELP!!
GET THIS MAN AWAY FROM ME AND MAKE HIM STOP!!
& ROLL; NEVER ONCE AGAIN WILL I BE HUSHED, SHUSHED, OR THREATENED NOT TO TELL,
Because everything that's in the dark eventually comes to light,
and that will be the day that these stories come out and are told!!
Stephanie A. Ludwig
04/18/2025
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 11:01 PM UTC
An ****** nymph
discombobulated Darwin
a bushy bird
out dating carbon
this glorious lark
caused such a spark
seducing Ludwig,
to the beat of Marvin.
Feb 4, 2022
Feb 4, 2022 at 12:20 PM UTC
Like Ludwig van Beethoven
Close
Your
Eyes
Open
Your
Mind
Listen
With
Your
Intellect
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC