"platz" poems - Hello Poetry

I read an account of a small girl today "Crunching beneath her feet Like a thousand stars twinkling in the faint light of Potsdamer Platz Father holding her hand so tightly it hurt Sick children chased over broken glass The Jewish children's hospital ransacked While staff beaten for tending to the unworthy sick" You can feel the fear in her words The darkest November Hatered had now found a new form, a face, a sign The ******** Men paraded and followed ****** Revered like a demi god They worshiped an ideal. MIEN KAMPF It seems now implausible that one mans belief and struggle that he apportioned to a race could be bastardised into a purge of races that divided mankind and almost ended it From that night to this there have been many acts that again raise that spectre. Sarejavo Iraq to mention but a few. Tonight Jews Gentiles and others will shine peaceful lights at Potsdamer Platz. What have we learnt in 75 yrs The world watched the **** machine grow The world did not act What do we now watch Who are we now failing...

0

Nov 8, 2013

Nov 8, 2013 at 7:34 AM UTC

MichealWolf

Kristallnacht

I read an account of a small girl today "Crunching beneath her feet Like a thousand stars twinkling in the faint light of Potsdamer Platz Father holding her hand so tightly it hurt Sick children chased over broken glass The Jewish children's hospital ransacked While staff beaten for tending to the unworthy sick" You can feel the fear in her words The darkest November Hatered had now found a new form, a face, a sign The ******** Men paraded and followed ****** Revered like a demi god They worshiped an ideal. MIEN KAMPF It seems now implausible that one mans belief and struggle that he apportioned to a race could be bastardised into a purge of races that divided mankind and almost ended it From that night to this there have been many acts that again raise that spectre. Sarejavo Iraq to mention but a few. Tonight Jews Gentiles and others will shine peaceful lights at Potsdamer Platz. What have we learnt in 75 yrs The world watched the **** machine grow The world did not act What do we now watch Who are we now failing...

24

Ich habe Fernweh nach dem Ort an dem du gerade bist, und Heimweh nach dem Platz in deinem Herzen. Ich liebe den Himmel, und ich wünschte ich wäre das Firmament über dir, egal ob hinter Wolken versteckt oder mit den Gestirnen geschmückt, denn dann würde ich dich immer sehen und immer bei dir seien. Jedoch könnte ich dich nie berühren, von da oben. Vielleicht wäre es besser, der Boden zu seien. Du legst dich in mein warmes Gras und atmest meinen Duft ein, nach einem Regenschauer, und würdest dabei lächeln. Aber als der Boden, würdest du mich je bemerken? Und wenn ja, würdest du nicht nur auf mich herabsehen? Das würde ich nicht überleben, wir sind alle aus Sternenstaub, und besonders in der Liebe gleich. Aber wenn du mir diese drei Worte ins Ohr flüsterst oder sie mir ins Gesicht schreist, dann ist es eh egal. Denn dann steht alles auf dem Kopf, am Himmel ist das Wasser der Meere und ich schwimme durch Wolken. Ich gehe über Federn, und das Federkleid der Vögel besteht aus Gras. So ist es, zumindest in meinem Kopf, jedes Mal nachdem du mein Herz mit den Schmetterlingen, die du in meinem Bauch ausgesetzt hast, erschütterst hast.

0

May 9, 2014

May 9, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC

gold

Liebe

Ich habe Fernweh nach dem Ort an dem du gerade bist, und Heimweh nach dem Platz in deinem Herzen. Ich liebe den Himmel, und ich wünschte ich wäre das Firmament über dir, egal ob hinter Wolken versteckt oder mit den Gestirnen geschmückt, denn dann würde ich dich immer sehen und immer bei dir seien. Jedoch könnte ich dich nie berühren, von da oben. Vielleicht wäre es besser, der Boden zu seien. Du legst dich in mein warmes Gras und atmest meinen Duft ein, nach einem Regenschauer, und würdest dabei lächeln. Aber als der Boden, würdest du mich je bemerken? Und wenn ja, würdest du nicht nur auf mich herabsehen? Das würde ich nicht überleben, wir sind alle aus Sternenstaub, und besonders in der Liebe gleich. Aber wenn du mir diese drei Worte ins Ohr flüsterst oder sie mir ins Gesicht schreist, dann ist es eh egal. Denn dann steht alles auf dem Kopf, am Himmel ist das Wasser der Meere und ich schwimme durch Wolken. Ich gehe über Federn, und das Federkleid der Vögel besteht aus Gras. So ist es, zumindest in meinem Kopf, jedes Mal nachdem du mein Herz mit den Schmetterlingen, die du in meinem Bauch ausgesetzt hast, erschütterst hast.

7

I met a girl named Alice Klar She was the finest girl I saw We made my day all bright and nice; About the night I can’t speak at all! Alice played with words all day She’d find some Wort and write a play To Lebenstraße she’d walked just twice Even though I’d beg and though I’d plea But I can’t recall for the life of me Why that day Alice stopped for tea Running along she’d chase the mice Until they fell into the Spree I’d always worried that her talcum hair Would bring on suitors far more fair But I never imagined that her vice Would be an expat Fräuline eating rice Amid the essence of food and the summer heat When there in the Platz the two did meet And a strong stark woman with heart of ice Swept Alice Klar up off her feet Since that day I’ve had no song in heart Except for brats and hounds that bark It’s now despite want of love and spice Her memory fades into the dark Still I have hope though you may scoff That this man I am can surely boff Another ribald maiden low in price Then that old ***** Alice I can write off!

0

Apr 2, 2014

Apr 2, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC

rj-days

The Tail of Alice Klar

I met a girl named Alice Klar She was the finest girl I saw We made my day all bright and nice; About the night I can’t speak at all! Alice played with words all day She’d find some Wort and write a play To Lebenstraße she’d walked just twice Even though I’d beg and though I’d plea But I can’t recall for the life of me Why that day Alice stopped for tea Running along she’d chase the mice Until they fell into the Spree I’d always worried that her talcum hair Would bring on suitors far more fair But I never imagined that her vice Would be an expat Fräuline eating rice Amid the essence of food and the summer heat When there in the Platz the two did meet And a strong stark woman with heart of ice Swept Alice Klar up off her feet Since that day I’ve had no song in heart Except for brats and hounds that bark It’s now despite want of love and spice Her memory fades into the dark Still I have hope though you may scoff That this man I am can surely boff Another ribald maiden low in price Then that old ***** Alice I can write off!

28

Frozen pizza & cheese, ska, movie marathons these foolish things they remind me of you, as the song goes remember that January night when we lay down on the snow-covered grass under the lights of Potzdamer Platz to make snow angels by the Brandenburger Gate in a city no longer divided or living on a tightrope but living for each breath In amidst the crisp coldness we could smell spring waiting patiently in the air & it was almost time for our train we talked of our M&Ms; a code word just for them two brothers we loved bound by this crush like sisters not knowing we weren't to be friends for much longer you counted the stars the stars which were countless like all the times I've thought of you since

0

Aug 27, 2015

Aug 27, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC

dreams-of-sepia

Jenna

Frozen pizza & cheese, ska, movie marathons these foolish things they remind me of you, as the song goes remember that January night when we lay down on the snow-covered grass under the lights of Potzdamer Platz to make snow angels by the Brandenburger Gate in a city no longer divided or living on a tightrope but living for each breath In amidst the crisp coldness we could smell spring waiting patiently in the air & it was almost time for our train we talked of our M&Ms; a code word just for them two brothers we loved bound by this crush like sisters not knowing we weren't to be friends for much longer you counted the stars the stars which were countless like all the times I've thought of you since

28

you appear so fragile: i don't know whether to want you, or discard you, touch you: or foget to have missed me **** you... your language is a laguid tease... i macbeth, i macbeth... i leave the i am, open to satiate your scoop for an, opening of the wound... i am bemused by having to deal with you as a curiosity, that i... sometimes forget to chase my own shadow... you: forever in third person... are: a person not worth an enigmas' worth to replace the person being towed... and i know what appears fragile... the most... insect-like apparent... a dog-barking-familiar... fake... i know what shuffles in shatter and the scooping fake... a mind... like any other... a hybrid of the wind like a tow of the sly of the southern scythe made: lumber... tow: and the fallen tree, tow... silence... echo... winter breed: a lost... scuttle... macbeth o macbeth! i beseech you, macbeth! to have to heave one heart, but be given another.... and all that constitutes the deaths of the enshrined parody of the basics of the lived society... ich bin spiegel: ich bin schrein - ich bin mutter-witwe: ich bin: die zuletzt: ende... kommen entweder sie zeit, ür platz.... ür: gott ist alle gott iß güt! i don't want to speak the language i was either born with, or the language i acquired... but i also don't want to speak the language that's desired... ar wir bestimmt... sprechen klein so? am i always to halve what is, and what isn't so? scot: hi' h'oon! hoom! sober... and soak: and north baron of: 'oon! 'arangue?! 'a! swoon a'r'ah shoon! hoo! e'yeer!

0

Feb 4, 2019

Feb 4, 2019 at 12:40 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

humming hubris

you appear so fragile: i don't know whether to want you, or discard you, touch you: or foget to have missed me **** you... your language is a laguid tease... i macbeth, i macbeth... i leave the i am, open to satiate your scoop for an, opening of the wound... i am bemused by having to deal with you as a curiosity, that i... sometimes forget to chase my own shadow... you: forever in third person... are: a person not worth an enigmas' worth to replace the person being towed... and i know what appears fragile... the most... insect-like apparent... a dog-barking-familiar... fake... i know what shuffles in shatter and the scooping fake... a mind... like any other... a hybrid of the wind like a tow of the sly of the southern scythe made: lumber... tow: and the fallen tree, tow... silence... echo... winter breed: a lost... scuttle... macbeth o macbeth! i beseech you, macbeth! to have to heave one heart, but be given another.... and all that constitutes the deaths of the enshrined parody of the basics of the lived society... ich bin spiegel: ich bin schrein - ich bin mutter-witwe: ich bin: die zuletzt: ende... kommen entweder sie zeit, ür platz.... ür: gott ist alle gott iß güt! i don't want to speak the language i was either born with, or the language i acquired... but i also don't want to speak the language that's desired... ar wir bestimmt... sprechen klein so? am i always to halve what is, and what isn't so? scot: hi' h'oon! hoom! sober... and soak: and north baron of: 'oon! 'arangue?! 'a! swoon a'r'ah shoon! hoo! e'yeer!

98

This was once a Jew’s apartment, here on the Konig Platz. It must have been magnificent, before we were attacked. I squat in an apartment whose glories are all past. The artwork was seized off these walls and the former owner gassed. Now the copper mansard roof leaks nearly every time it rains; It’s my only source of water so I’m not one to complain. My sleep is poor and fitful, as the foe controls the sky. How long can we endure this siege? How many more must die? The noise is indescribable; so many allied planes. We cannot quench the fires; bombs have burst the water mains. Food is hard to come by, that’s been true ever since spring, And it’s gotten worse since Russian troops started tightening the ring. I see old men and boys march out in their tattered Wehrmacht Grey. They are poorly armed, with just Panzerfausts to keep the Reds at bay. In a broken shard of mirror, I glimpse what I’ve become; a scarecrow of a woman; full of fear, no longer young. To the Russians that won’t matter;My flesh still warm to hold. They would take their turns at ****** me while I curse and **** their souls. My husband died at Normandy and I’ve lost our only son. Now all I need to join them is one bullet and a gun.

0

Aug 22, 2015

Aug 22, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

Living in the ruins

This was once a Jew’s apartment, here on the Konig Platz. It must have been magnificent, before we were attacked. I squat in an apartment whose glories are all past. The artwork was seized off these walls and the former owner gassed. Now the copper mansard roof leaks nearly every time it rains; It’s my only source of water so I’m not one to complain. My sleep is poor and fitful, as the foe controls the sky. How long can we endure this siege? How many more must die? The noise is indescribable; so many allied planes. We cannot quench the fires; bombs have burst the water mains. Food is hard to come by, that’s been true ever since spring, And it’s gotten worse since Russian troops started tightening the ring. I see old men and boys march out in their tattered Wehrmacht Grey. They are poorly armed, with just Panzerfausts to keep the Reds at bay. In a broken shard of mirror, I glimpse what I’ve become; a scarecrow of a woman; full of fear, no longer young. To the Russians that won’t matter;My flesh still warm to hold. They would take their turns at ****** me while I curse and **** their souls. My husband died at Normandy and I’ve lost our only son. Now all I need to join them is one bullet and a gun.

20