TRIP TO AUSCHWITZ

« 25 NOVEMBER 2005 »

 

 

   I was never much of an entrepreneur!

Standing in the queue,

I wait patiently in turn,

Such did my mum,

Such did my dad…

Before the great smoke,

Came Ahead of the last train…

 

Some speak of shadows,

While others fluffed in first class!

But the crossing was always the same.

Rocking through the mountain,

We stand proud, such naked animals…

The tears of a mother, Sing like a zigane,

Along the railways….

 

I was never much of an entrepreneur,

So were my parents.

Tales of fears arise,

As we `re drew closer to the other side.

Look at the sky!

This is your brothers and sisters,

Ashes floating to heaven doors!

 

Mummy, daddy?

So it was all true!

Their silences are my broken hope.

While I watch hopelessly,

A mother stands for comfort as she slips her daughter wrists!

Before the black smoke come…

And the remains of love ones spoke…

 

As I saw the tower of Babel,

I was the king of the mountain.

In this great desert,

Where so many like me,

Patiently waited their turn for the showers,

A glimpse of light,

Before the night took us over!

 

 

 

                           COPYRIGHT@2005.H.NAUDET.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I ALWAYS ENJOY TRAVELLING BY TRAIN,

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jimtwocrows's picture

This is a scary poem Herve, I

This is a scary poem Herve, I am moved and repulsed. Your sense of  despair is overwhelming. You, my friend, are a great poet!

MARGOT's picture

I AM  VERY TOUCH BY YOUR

I AM  VERY TOUCH BY YOUR COMMENT, MY SENSE OF DESPAIR IS IN HUMANITY NO IN ME,  HISTORY KEEP REPEATING ITSELF, AND THAT IS MY DESPAIR, IN PEOPLES,

MANY THANKS,  AS I FEL THIS ONE WAS ONE OF A HELL OF A POEM, IF ONE GET IT, OF COURSE!

U DID, BUT TO REASSURE U, MY DESPAIR IS MY POETRY....

hERVE


Visual poet/ Libertine lost in a labyrinth of complexities, methaphors, searching for the essence/ Ink of life/ death to spell my syphilistic words on the page/ screen.       

MARGOT's picture

I FEEL LIKE TAKING A SHOWER

I FEEL LIKE TAKING A SHOWER ( DARK SENSE OF HUMOUR)


Visual poet/ Libertine lost in a labyrinth of complexities, methaphors, searching for the essence/ Ink of life/ death to spell my syphilistic words on the page/ screen.