"stalingrad" 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
Led down from the tower
Head high and hands bound
Blindfold declined against the wall
Black square pinned to his heart
Eyes afire and shining proud
He sang...
He sang of Caruso, Townes Van Zandt
Pavarotti, Bocelli, Mercury,
Carreras, he sang of Antoine,
Of Sinatra, Lennon, Morrison, Redding
He sang and songbirds paused in flight
He sang like them all
He sang a song of himself
Of leaves of grass, of second comings
Of Byron, and Bharti, and Cummings
He sang of Neruda, and Plath, Tagore
Dickinson, Kamala Das and Naidu
Oh, he sang of them all
He sang of art and beauty
Of Mona Lisa and starry nights
Girls in green dresses and pearls
He sang of Van Gogh, of Picasso
Of Rembrandt, da Vinci
He sang of Michelangelo
He sang of sadness, pain
He sang of My Lai, Sand Creek
Of Guernica and Krystallnacht
He cried and sang of Wounded Knee
Of Katyn Forest, Sabra and Shatila
Oh, he wept as he sang
He sang of history and wonders
He sang of Olduvai and pyramids
Machu Picchu, Tikal, and Angkor Wat
He sang of a great wall, the Taj Mahal
Stonehenge, Easter Isle, Mesa Verde
His song took us to them all
He sang of courage
A song of Bunker Hill, Gettysburg
Of the Alamo, Normandy, Stalingrad
Of Lincoln, Guevara and Dr. King
He sang of Bolivar, Bhutto, Ghandi
He shamed us with their song
He sang his song...
As women sighed and peasants cried
He sang until the rifles fired, he died
Songbirds fell from the sky
Soldiers broke their guns on stones
And marched into the deep blue sea.
r ~ 4/12/14
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, Here is a poem by a young Canadian poet named Darien, which I found while browsing the Net! I would like to share this with you as a prelude to my poem about the 'Rise of The Third Reich', - which I hope to post on this Site shortly. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi
World War II - ADOLF ******
by DARIEN, Aug 21, 2006
Austria raised a man so vile and vicious
His life was dark, callous and malicious
Passions of hatred engraved in his mind
As he plotted to create his own mankind
A soldier for Germany in World War One
War to end all wars had only just begun
The National Socialist Party appeared fast
Their numbers grew rapidly as time passed
Charismatic oratory and propaganda his tool
False promises made, people he would fool
Were Nazis the one to bring hope? Perhaps
Without their help Germany would collapse
The Reichstag Fire would be a stepping stone
Germany's President died, he took the throne
He became the fuhrer leader of all Germany
And would start the worst war of the century
War had been started with a Nazi-Soviet pact
Together with Russia, Poland they attacked
England and France were not ready for war
Marching of Nazis soldiers was not ignored.
Mussolini became his ally and supported him
For all other countries their chances were slim
Many countries were defeated in a few days
the Fascist and Nazis would give him praise
Blitzkrieg was a strategy that worked most
In defeating all his enemies he came close
The Nazis would spread all across Europe
But it would be at Stalingrad they would stop
Communist regimes were one group he did hate
Yet it was the Jews he would try to annihilate
In all cruelty, bloodshed, war would soon end
There was still so much for people to defend
On V-Day he saw all his armies demolished
****** and fascism in Europe was abolished
World War Two ended the areas were secure
From that evil, monstrous beast Adolf ******
- By Darien. (Canada)
..........................................................................
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Stalingrad- Germany wanted control,
But they weren't going to get it. Silly men,
Unaware that they would freeze to the bone
In those harsh Russian mountains.
Is oil worth it?
Torch- the British thought it was a simple plan.
It was, but barely. The soft underbelly,
The Mediterranean to France, through Italy?
Kick the Axis out of North Africa?
Piece of cake.
D-Day- a finale? Maybe. The ships and planes at the ready,
A possible surprise. Parachutes
And men on foot storming the beaches of Normandy.
Shots fired, push east where they belong.
Coming from the North and South. Cinch like a corset
Strings are drawn against the axis.
Good luck holding up your empire in this day and age.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
what meanings truth and justice had
we've understood and will not pass
that bill was paid at stalingrad
(not the first time) and we are glad
to see reflected in the glass
what meanings truth and justice had
in eyes that are forever sad
seeing the bones beneath the grass
that bill was paid at stalingrad
for generations good and bad
by that immense levée-en-masse
(what meanings truth and justice had)
so demos spoke and thus forbade
the foolish claims of herrenrass
that bill was paid at stalingrad
so many folk might think us mad
to speak of mankind as one class
what meanings truth and justice had
that bill was paid at stalingrad
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
March in the streets
But I urge you beware
They’ll still butcher the sheep
With the arms that they bear
Private properteers part with
No slave cropper’s share
So this Northern aggression's
Like Freeman’s red scare
All the colors of wind
Through the head-shavers’ hair
The Guevara adventures
These pigs wouldn’t D.A.R.E.
The Arabian knights
In the grand wizard’s lair
The denaturalized dreamer’s
Recurring nightmare
Of the Stalingrad ghost
Still witch-hunting like Blair
The projects to the precincts’
New modern welfare
The post-trauma disorderly’s
Empty screen stare
The savages they thought
Were waaaaayyyy over there
The debt clock ticky tock
In the heart of Times Square
The 1st world problem-children
Who commonwealth care
Because some barely EAT
And we’ve so much to spare
But these cowherds still like their calves
Medium rare
And the bulls try to sell you
Their laissez-faire snare
Till your trapped in a minimum cage’s
Last prayer
And the only escape
Is upgraded software
Like automaton autobahn’s
In disrepair
In this fascist facade’s
Fragrant breath of fresh air
Just as toxic as stocks
Of the mock billionaire
So I shock ‘em like Tesla’s
Bolt-action Voltaire
And I leave it to you
To go **** it out there
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 6:27 AM UTC
A dying man does nothing easy,“Lock and load. Let's do it”,said G.W. Green
Right before Jack Pursley sent 3-5 grams of sodium thiopental coursing through his veins
in Texas. Sticking with the states motto it was probably 5. As lethal drugs flowed into his arms, he used an obscenity to describe life, gasped once and made no further movement.
Imagine his brief confidence in the face of this adversity, before the heart’s blood
Settled in the ventricles.
Some have called such confidence a monstrosity titled, “Hubris”--
Alexander of Macedonia thought it necessary, to cross the turbulent river against fear
-ful odds. For destiny demanded imitation of his exemplar Achilles
Quickly eroded was this by the pleas of Parmenio, who reasons it would be,“failure at the outset.”
Imagine Alexander reciting the words of G.W. Green, instead of heeding to this squelching caution
How quickly we’d throw this decisions bones in the pile, with ******
In Stalingrad & Nixon in Vietnam
All to be shoved in to, a mass grave of faulted zealots.
Covered with soil, bitter compost not to be forgotten
Rosemary sprouts next to a burning
bush in Iraq.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
German soldiers
Left to do their duty
At Stalingrad
****** would not retreat
From the city
That bore the name
Of his communist enemy
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
During moments I yearned for forests grown for me alone,
Caressing them in a dream,
I could sense the throbbing of the heart
Hidden beneath my ribs to bless my journey.
Summoning me with a pulse that he recognizes in me.
I heard the noise of abandoned smoke from a moment of care
Join with me,
Forcefully traversing desires to the hidden-most one.
My spirit swung toward him,
Creating a tingling
On lips that devour breaths alive.
I felt ashamed,
But the eye,
In moments—I scarcely know what to call them—that took me on another route
Toward the television, saw warplanes . . . spray death on them.
At that moment,
The fire of machine guns raked all the bodies,
And another fire raked my body when I trained my eye on him
Hesitantly inclining his head
Toward a shoulder unaccustomed to the secret of the stars of war
Or to insomnia.
Oh . . . . I leaned on it!
And when he caressed a dumbfounded person
I felt his fingers like coiling embers inside me.
Bashfulness seized the excuse this caress gave . . . and vanished,
Eliminating distance till the two of us were one.
And the eye—he moaned: May love not forgive her the eye—repeated another evasion
Toward a drizzle of men flung about in the air by just the rustling of a pilot penetrating a building
To fall on screens as the debris of breaking news.
But his breaths . . . shattering the still down of the cheek,
And turning their picture into mist as
Eddies of the screen’s corpses . . . varieties of death that they brought them.
The spirit that became a body,
The body that was sold for the sake of a touch,
The eye that was concealed in his image
And that approached the firebrand of conflagrations.
Everyone drawing close to everyone,
Everyone,
Everyone,
Everyone.
But the thunder of their machine guns splintered them:
Corpses piled on corpses,
I mean on me,
The eyes of those in it were extinguished.
They slept in a trench of silence.
My eyes’ lids parted in a wakefulness obsessed with them.
I rose … and embraced the chill
That the screens brought me in commemoration of Stalingrad.
………………………………
Translated by William Hutchins
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
General.
Sir.
That is how you will identify me,
Hoorah?
I tell you what.
I am a soldier
But you?
You gotta earn your rights
To be privileged with such a title.
You get me maggot?
Fall in line, keep your lips locked.
Look me in the eye.
See any fear?
You shouldn’t, unless
It’s in your reflection.
You scrounge for this courage,
These cajones, that passion to surmount.
To get here, where I stand…
Here…
Can any of you maggots tell me
Where here is?
Anybody?
Are you even listening to me?
Where the hell are you going?
I never said at ease!
Sigh
I was an elite,
A soldier,
A leader.
Where here was the frontline.
The trenches, the beach head,
Africa, Stalingrad, O’ahu.
Now, here
Is found forgotten,
Lost in tragedy,
A false spectacle of hope,
Leaves me lost in this wicked dimension.
Clinches my soul.
Bang! Dust cover, flash
Dust cover, flash
Flash…
My senses.
Fading.
Into this abyss.
Leaving me here.
A ghost.
A spirit.
Please…
Bury me a soldier
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:54 PM UTC
The pitched shrill of the whistle sounds
the explosions can be felt deep underground
the mass of men scream and shout
the conscripts are all moving out
the Germans sit there waiting for us
all we can do is move forward, its a must
They took over our land, it makes me so mad
So I am here, at Stalingrad
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
Kristallnacht
The night that was Fought
Jew against Aryan
Filled with sin
No-one had to win
But the **** party
Thought of a race oh so hearty
Emotions ran high
Soldiers were high on ****
Forced to their death
March, March soldier boy
Germany's little toy
So many of you young and coy
They created courage pills
To give you a thrill
So that you could ****
Just until
The dirt was cleansed
Grease guns
No more fun
British and Germans
Toms and Jerrys
A ration on sherry
Line up girls and boys
Off to the front you go
Some will lose the odd toe
In the Russian snow
Stalingrad
Little ones be glad
Most never to see their sons again
Germany full of sin
Allies for the win
Nuremberg trials for the ****
No more of their party
Sentenced to death
Most still high on ****
15 year old boys
Killed for spying
****** youth
Find the truth
14-18 sent to war
The bullets they tore
Too young to fight
But they had the might
Pride and honor
But the horror
For the warrior
It ended
So many dead
Slaughtered in their beds
We took their wives
And the husbands lives
We failed to see the problem
Was us the Human
So repent for our sins
Even though we took a win
Did anyone really win?
All guilty of some sin
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember because we were traveling in the night of first ages. And those ages are gone, leaving hardly a sign and no memories. We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there, there you could look at a thing monstrous...and free. The Heart of Darkness
Slowly ever so slowly
Gliding above the burning things below
Some still moved but we did not attend
We were tired of carrion food
There was too much
Still we could hear the distant passage
Of a great beast
Earth shaking roars and shrapnel filled flames
Shaking the backs of our eyes
We waited for that moment of stillness
When the earth breathed between eruptions
Just like that night in Stalingrad
Or Gettysburg when the cannon stopped that summer afternoon
All that could be heard were
The groans of the wounded
Then the clatter of the gunships returned
The spell was broken
Just as it began to move toward the lines of tracers and the 20mm rapid-fire,
Flinging the broken skeleton of the city before it
The beast met our eyes for a moment
Shared a sly grin
Then we knew it for our own
Our private monster
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
The Italians dreamed of glory
Italian tacticians made many mistakes
The british surprised them on Dec. 9
British armor raced along the Libyan coast
Coastal towns had been turned into fortresses
They proved to be no match for the
Highly mobile British forces
One after another the towns fell to the British
The Italian army was trapped
By 1941 the British occupied the eastern half of Libya
Feb 12, 1941
Rommel took control of the Africa Corps
2 armored divisions
8000 men and 135 tanks
Plus the light infantry division
On April 1, the Germans
Mark III and Mark IV tanks
Outranged the British
The British were pushed back into Egypt
However one division remained in Tobruk
The infamous and stubborn rats of Tobruk
Tobruk held on at first
Barely enough food and water to stay alive
Tobruk was needed by the Germans
For their supply chain
Rommel said he would finish Tobruk for good
It fell on June 1 1942
Montgomery took control at El Alamein
Lend lease supplies came in
Axis shipping was badly damaged
By Allied air strikes
Oct 23, 1942
The British forces moved to the assembly areas
The First Battle of El Alamein began
The British halted the Axis forces from
Advancing into Egypt
Oct. 24, 1942
A vast troop convoy
Set sail from American ports
The next day, two convoys left Britain
El Alamein was the first great offensive
It coincided with the Battle of Stalingrad
And the Battle of Guadalcanal
The narrator said,
"El Alamein had been the end of the beginning.
For the Axis powers
It was now the beginning of the end."
Churchill said,
"It may almost be said, 'Before Alamein we never had a victory.
After Alemein we never had a defeat.'
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
I hold nothing against you.
These spines are in my chest
clutched like a sacred heart grenade
with fingers too close to let the blood through.
Driven in desperation
cyclone of nonsense and the neurotic
marred by nothing and marred by all
and the red dash trenches
with no man's land slowly decreasing
but too many futile-over -the-tops
for far away victory.
Fruitless as the wavering charge
one step forward
two hundred back
Stalingrad psychosis.
Shell-shock guilt and the stark reality
of one's own mind and the prisons it builds.
Peace is a forgotten word
not even whispered in dreams.
Freedom drowned in the mud.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
Looking into the blade
Of the knife
Slitting my wrists taking
my life
Watching the blood run
From my skin
Is this where my death begins
This is my Stalingrad
I was never set free
My fiercest enemy
Oh s--t it was me.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 8:56 AM UTC
Another Christmas
Got some fun gifts
What I would most like
Is to never see
My parents again
Far far away
Sometimes I wish
Dad would just die
Just drop dead
Or maybe I'll take
A shovel
And bang him over the head
Drop dead guy
Such wicked thoughts
I am a sinner I know
I will ask for forgiveness
I'm so sorry Jesus
We celebrate your birth
But you couldn't give a ****
Enough to help me
Fix my body
I love you Jesus
And I also hate you
One day America
Will be in ruins
And we will be starving
Like in Stalingrad
I wouldn't share one
Bit of food with
I'd just let you die
You obnoxious piece of garbage
I'm tired of everyone saying
God this and God that
I want God to let
These country be ruined
This country deserves it
People will learn what
It is like to suffer
To starve to death
Armies of drones
Tanks driving down the street
I never cared much
For this planet anyway
Now humanity
Will destroy itself
Countries going to war
Our precious Christ
Who knows
When He will return
Hey Jesus guy
Why did God
Make life so ******
Anyway?
Can you tell us that?
Why most of the population
Fights against starvation
I'm thankful
For food and water
I would have traveled
With the Wise Men
To meet this Jesus guy
Supposedly He
Loved us
Or something
I hate most people
Really hate them
In fact I wouldn't mind
Hitting My own dad repeatedly
In his face
For all the terrible things he said
And I'm not sorry Jesus
You made me suffer too much
I won't bear the weight
Of the cross
That was your miserable job
Another **** day
The 25th
Who knows when
The real birth was
I'm going to hike far way
In the mountains
Far away
From these people
Thankfully Christmas
Will be over soon enough
Merry Christmas
Or whatever
Nobody cares
I tried to care
But no friends
Or anyone fun
To spend it withh
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
A Night before Stalingrad
It was a cold night as far as I could remember,
The trenches were never empty
Smoky on a mound of Earth
Smelt of carcasses and dwelling death
Dawn had forbidden us
Much like how our governments had abandoned us a long time ago
Time left its grim stain on us
Many faces came, many faded-
Some died with valor
Some with false glory
I cursed fate for leaving me alive
I did not want any glory
But now I had a purpose to serve
And desertion would make me
A traitor- hypocritical for how
a second of thought could foreshadow
years of strife.
The punk had foresaken his mischief
The tailor measured corpses
The poet had put down his pen
The graduate his degree
I remember my life as a fisherman
before all the bustle and *******
patriotism took its root.
The mayor promised us a warm bed,
food for our families but were they of any good?
Now that most of the backs to lay on that comfort were buried under soil that claimed no identity.
A new month- new recruits
Their eyes always at first gleamed with dreams,
Oh! To slit the enemy, raise the flag above their dead body.
Only if it were that easy!
Their eyes always drowned once they witnessed the atrocities.
New soldiers kept on piling
Much the better for the "big man" to spread their irony.
Some ol' merry jester once had given us our smiles back
only for him the next day to be shot right between the eyes,
Since that day- our division had seen no hint of joy
But every now and then we raised our glasses and made a toast to his soul.
The brave men beside me sobbed and let their tears flow like streams of an unprecedented waterfall.
We hugged and embraced each other to feel what might've been our last night of company.
I felt no remorse- no sadness, I had not much to look up to
I knew my battallion was to be wiped the next morning.
I let out a deep sigh and took out my wallet,
glancing into the still photo of my massacred family.
I gently wept and prayed to Almighty
To take me into his arms-
To take me completely
To my family
To my family.
It was a cold night and time moved slowly
It was a cold night
It was a night before Stalingrad.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC
the song was set on a space station orbiting earth
the astronauts were eating powdered food and trying to remember what
ice cream tasted of they couldn’t find the words to describe vanilla
in Russian Stalin banned jazz
he ordered all trumpets to be buried 300 miles from Stalingrad
yesterday was national poetry day and no one knew
outside hailstones have been falling on and off for an hour or so
spring now, but possibly still winter
the calendars could be lying
the washing machine is gurgling in another room
my cat ate my fish
my cat died when I was on a school trip
my bird fell off his perch and never knew he hit the ground
the news is on the radio and
words are jumping from its belly
something about a ******
Russian involvement
she told me this morning she dreams of dead children
I’ll leave this here
I’ll finish my tea then I’ll be off
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 7:21 AM UTC
The ball started rolling
Many years ago
Picking up momentum
As hatred grows,
Divide divide
Call to arms
why do people
Need to harm,
History dictates
Violence leads to war
Then after the carnage
What was it all for,
Heavens waiting room
Is quickly filling up
Beans must blend together
then sweeter the cup,
I've done violence
But I don't understand hate
Stalingrad is rising
Or can we change fate
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 5:33 AM UTC
Wars, the real thing
I like wars, the real thing as it was in Stalingrad
and now Mosul, wish I was there.
War, is ****** messy Sadistic, violent and merciless.
body parts, all over the place bombed out building,
shoot the ******** and if the enemy survives
**** and throw them in the river Tigress.
Their **** ******* ****** had slept with the enemy,
string them up; there is no excuse for youth, hang them
high and let their disgusting corpses twist in the wind
and be eaten by crows.
“Good Morning Vietnam”. Oh, **** off!!!
“Saving Ryan.” What sentimental twaddle.
That's why I dislike American war movies, with a love interest.
The colour full explosion in the jungle, do they think it is 4th of July.
I love real wars it gives spectators and soldiers a meaning.
living at the edge of life and death.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
Try to understand
There is no distance
You can run
No stoic mountains
You could climb
To harness gods within the sun
So fret about your idle whims
And give yourselves to my distractions
To my propaganda proxy wars
And post-truth imperfactions
I don’t ask for your allegiance
No robotic pledge of trust
I simply augment every dissident
And leave the cogs to rust
In this machine there is no dream
I do not oversee production of
No show trial injustice served
Without the laws I am above
The spoils system you created
In archaic words brittanic
In the butchers venerated
By your livestock market panic
Then the walls to seal you off
So no escapegoating the ******
Then suspicions are diverted
Like a papist in your play list
Now to bow before the master
Whose ancestors were the slaves
While I disown the private property
Amassing in the graves
And in a state of omnipresent
Fear, unending terror reigns
Welcome to the revolution
All you’ve left to lose, your chains
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC
Recently lock down began
You may say
This is not the time to write a poem
When darkness falls drop by drop
From the sky.
In this cursed timorous moment
Breathe is confined,
Infected by incorporeal virus
Present in the silent outline of the city.
This is not at all a time for parasitic dream dalliance.
I myself too is a socially isolated person of pessimistic attitude,
Whose, vanity is a part of genetically accumulated negativity.
When people speak of moonlight and starry nights
I am frightened in apprehension of darkness.
When people speak of blooming of flowers
I wait wakefully in apprehension of a storm.
In every morning, I dream idle dreams of the evening.
My friends know quite well
That I am a foolish ancient mirror of psych lateral inversion.
.
Yet I wish to dedicate few moments of this tragic conjuncture
In the name of poetry
In this scary time of screams and uproars
Once again I want to start
The protesting parade of indomitable words
With the crime of antisocial psyche.
O' gloomy time of locked down city
Can the defeat be admitted so easily?
Where is that moment that can resist
The inevitable course of impending sunrise?
Can the clamour of birds become silent
Out of fear of horns of buffaloes?
Can the poison droplets fatigue the seeking thirst of enlightment
Of the descendants of light?
Will the deep paddy of green fields
Admit defeat so easily
Out of fear of unruly flood of Ahar ?
In fact, the words are not so simple
In fact, the words are not so simple
In this ominous darkness of ENDHAUBAALI
Once again,
skillful shadow war.
Every person of the locked down city knows
Patience matters, only patience.
The enemy will perish without a trace
Lockdown, Lockdown, lockdown comrades,
Lockdown the city;
Under silent raid; like a new Stalingrad.
The world conquered enemy
laughs horrible laughter at the
extended banks of the Luit.
But for that the heart is not trembled.
We want triumph and only triumph without the fear of death.
The country men are ready
Prepared with well-skilled, proficient and disciplined array
Will go forward with sword of thunder
Built in the workshops of science and technology
When clarion call comes.
New Saraighat is calling us.
Every citizen of the locked down city knows what is needed.
A little patience and some sacrifice.
In this cursed darkness of Endharubali
Once again well-skilled shadow war
The experienced wisdom of locked down city knows
Patience is a must, only patience
The enemy will die of drying
without tracing the host
The enemy will die of hunger
without finding out any trace.
Locked down for two fortnights
New Stalingrad, new Stalingrad.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 7:01 AM UTC