My poignant dreams of Auschwitz,
amongst the archaic bone and flesh,
you have stolen my pride, my identity,
guided by hope in to this mess.
Though I remain I have been killed,
deprived even of my shoes,
be it between existence or death,
I know which one I would choose.
Singed hair and baby bones,
cornered in a heap by the door,
the people who cued for there shower,
don't actually remain anymore.
an armless doll,
sits alone on the heap,
once the subject of naïve play,
grey in colour it starts to weep,
just the beginning of another day.
Author notes
Inspired by a program I watched on Auschwitz, which really moved me. It made me think how lucky I am, so I tried to empathise with the victims, hope you like it!
Written June 28th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
-
woah, this was freaking brilliant! Man, you have some talent there hun, keep it up! Seriously do keep it up.
Be safe
Re xXx -
This is awesome babe!
It's one of your best poems yet!
Love Sarah
<3 xx
Edited on Jun 29, 5:53 because 'Can't spell for shit, ahh.'. -
you're fucking awesome
seriously
your poetry gets me everytime mate
do you see how I said mate
JSUT LIKE LISA FROM BBB HAHAHAHAHA -
omg, well...wow, this really,...im speachless, you really captured every aspect of Auschwitz in this poem, im just, mindblown, when i had to take history in school, we learnt all about this and, well this poem just captures everything i really like it, especially; an armless doll,
sits alone on the heap' You use the imagery of a childs doll without an arm, yet in another form it could also be the child with no arm on the heap with the rest of the bones. Also: Singed hair and baby bones' its so true, and you capture the rank smell of what happened. this is such a great piece, well done! keep writing xxStephxx
Adding your comment:
2 old applause
