Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Words
"vaterland" poems
Instead of nourishing extensive philosophical quandary, it seems that they'd rather suppress it in the name of: "THIS IS HOW IT IS, SHUT THE **** UP AND DON'T QUESTION WHAT YOU'RE TOLD!" to which one is seemingly entitled to reply; "Jawohl, mein Führer! Mein Leben für den Vaterland!"
0
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Anubis-the-Philosomancer
Authoritarian Education isn't.
Instead of nourishing extensive philosophical quandary, it seems that they'd rather suppress it in the name of: "THIS IS HOW IT IS, SHUT THE **** UP AND DON'T QUESTION WHAT YOU'RE TOLD!" to which one is seemingly entitled to reply; "Jawohl, mein Führer! Mein Leben für den Vaterland!"
Continue reading...
6
I am eight when we first heard them. While the sun kisses the treetops, Mother is in a panic Screaming for sister Grabbing her by the collar. Booming carries from a mile away, Sweet percussion of a death rattle. Bitter drums of militant clatter, numb and hypnotic heartbeat of their boots. I listen as they turn to my neighborhood. Mother knows they will come for us. Goose-steppers divide at their middle seam, kicking in doors on both sides of the street. The man at the end wears an enormous hat. He yells at them, “Hunde töten die Juden, töten für das Vaterland!”   **** the Jew dogs, **** for the Fatherland) The same thing every time. (They take the people who wore sacred stars                        Two of them kick in our door                                On the front of their shirts                           I tear my star from my shirt,                                                           like me.)                              throw it to the ground. They assail our stairs, hand cannons aimed. screaming at me, louder and louder. I break, They laugh. the big one charges towards me. I flinch, he laughs louder. grabbing my hair, Dragging me into the streets. My neighbors stand beside me. Transfixed stone pillars I, and them Fear-stricken. Hollowed eyes, Robbed of all. robbed of hope. I, and my neighbors put behind a fence. Slamming behind us, chains and locks. Mother yells for me. She cries, I hear it. I try to stay strong Like father. Like a soldat. I look back at the crowd that storms the gate My town yells, people cry. screams become muffled Stone soldier, I speak to the hillsides, to the trees, to the streets, and to mother. I call out to my world, "à tout le monde, à tous mes amis, je vous aime, je dois partir. Ceux-ci sont les derniers mots que je jamais parlerai. Et ils vont me libérer.”
0
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 6:21 PM UTC
brady-johnson
Me libérer
I am eight when we first heard them. While the sun kisses the treetops, Mother is in a panic Screaming for sister Grabbing her by the collar. Booming carries from a mile away, Sweet percussion of a death rattle. Bitter drums of militant clatter, numb and hypnotic heartbeat of their boots. I listen as they turn to my neighborhood. Mother knows they will come for us. Goose-steppers divide at their middle seam, kicking in doors on both sides of the street. The man at the end wears an enormous hat. He yells at them, “Hunde töten die Juden, töten für das Vaterland!”   **** the Jew dogs, **** for the Fatherland) The same thing every time. (They take the people who wore sacred stars                        Two of them kick in our door                                On the front of their shirts                           I tear my star from my shirt,                                                           like me.)                              throw it to the ground. They assail our stairs, hand cannons aimed. screaming at me, louder and louder. I break, They laugh. the big one charges towards me. I flinch, he laughs louder. grabbing my hair, Dragging me into the streets. My neighbors stand beside me. Transfixed stone pillars I, and them Fear-stricken. Hollowed eyes, Robbed of all. robbed of hope. I, and my neighbors put behind a fence. Slamming behind us, chains and locks. Mother yells for me. She cries, I hear it. I try to stay strong Like father. Like a soldat. I look back at the crowd that storms the gate My town yells, people cry. screams become muffled Stone soldier, I speak to the hillsides, to the trees, to the streets, and to mother. I call out to my world, "à tout le monde, à tous mes amis, je vous aime, je dois partir. Ceux-ci sont les derniers mots que je jamais parlerai. Et ils vont me libérer.”
Continue reading...
61