There is an opening in the mess that was her Dresden house,
once, two days ago. Now the flames are gone, she sees the sky,
still trembling in the heat.
Some half burned pigeons shiver before dying,
glorious day of victory has come.

In grotesk embraces people lie;
in the bathroom, where the toilet still remains,
her neighbours became coal. She never knew they had pink tiles –
it’s morning glow.

The church does stand, for now, but god is dead
and out-of-place. Her eyes take in for later to begrieve,
she leaves the city to a newer horror phase,
as she survived.

Comments on: "Deutsche Leute (repost, in a different poetry form)" (4)

  1. “In grotesk embraces people lie;”, “her neighbours became coal” this has nothing to do with the fact I live in a harsh ex-coal mining town in the North of England, these words would grace any poem. Really like it, the pace, the observation and absurdity of things not noticed.

    Good poem,

    Dave

    • Thank you very much David. I think this form is better for the poem than the prosety I did it in before.

      Where you live, is most beautiful in landscape. As tourist I had no idea of what lies underneath in harshness, but the people we met there, were real, without nonsense. I like it how they just talked with us, strangers, making me feel very at home there. Good people to live with! πŸ™‚

      Ina

  2. No comfort in this poem,

    But a very powerful poem which invokes a shudder.

    Just my opinion, but I prefer this version to the previous one.

    Hugs are necessary methinks

    David

    • I am trying out all kinds of stuff. This version is better to me too. I suppose I am not ready for prosety yet πŸ™‚

      Thank you for the hugs, although this is not my personal story!

      Love
      Ina

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