Wooden Bed #poem #poetry

I know some fields
in which the flesh of poppies smiles
when blonde sunsets play classical guitars
I know the coffee shop in which you stop
the gypsy lady who foretold our luck

listen,
inside the shadows of the night of eucalyptus
winds unbraid their fragrant hair
a moon serves wine in crystal glasses
inside the mirrors blue souls dance in pairs

I have to go
I can’t write more
send my kisses to the ocean’s waves
don’t sell the wooden bed in which we first made love
the dress embroidered by my mother’s hands
save the letters that my father wrote before he died
I’m rushing
guards are coming
my wrists will be soon stamped

yours forever,
from a concentration camp

@short-prose-fiction

 

121 thoughts on “Wooden Bed #poem #poetry

    1. Aw, Eric… I have no words to thank you for such a beautiful comment. You brought tears in my eyes.

       
      1. Thank you Ash. Know you are very good too. The other day I wanted to tell you about some of my visits to Canada, but I didn’t have enough time. I’ll tell you another time.
        Have a beautiful day and thank you again, Ash.

         
      2. United States. However, my VPN takes me all over the places. Now, according to my VPN, I am in Denmark 🙂

         
  1. Oh my God G.

    I will have to reply a little later. I am sitting by a pool in tears. I will take a dip to compose myself.

    Please feel free to post this. I have no problems letting the world know of my reaction.

    D

     
    1. Thank you Drew. Your comment is very touching and it means a lot to me,
      Enjoy the swim 🏊‍♀️

       
      1. Good afternoon G,

        Sorry, for my little lapse and for this lengthy comment. As I was reading this I saw the beauty of treasured remembrances. You had us enchanted and euphoric. We wanted more of your beautiful words. Your words depicted a life that was treasured, I would go as far as saying the narrator of these beautiful words appreciated every moment of her life.

        As we craved the wonderful ending we expected, you yank the poetic rug from beneath our feet. “I have to go, I can’t write more….” The sudden unexpected tension had me reading faster as curiosity replaced serenity. Then, came the sudden request to protect the momentos the wooden bed, the embroidered dress, her father’s letters. all of this kindling the fires of tension.

        Not sure if you purposely did this, but you captured the disturbing feeling Europeans and the Jews must have felt when Hitler and the Nazi’s suddenly disrupted the temporary peace.

        By the time I reads the guards are coming, I was in disbelief how this woman’s fortunes had turned. Then, came an explosion of a finale in those last two heart breaking lines.

        I ask you this, what is beyond masterpiece?
        For words fail me at this moment.

        This is epic. If I had read this poem on a printed page with no acknowledgement of who wrote it, I would have thought it was written during the height of the (Shoah) the Holocaust. It was as if you entered a time machine to feel the very pain and sensations these people felt in their final moments.

        It takes a wonderful poet with a grand, empathetic heart to write this work of outstanding art. I am in awe of you.

        I have spent much time reading and studying World War II and the Holocaust. I believe I have seen every major film on the subject. (Prefer the European films regarding the Holocaust. There is more realism than in American made films on the subject. And subtitles do not detract from the experience.)

        This much more than any pretty love poem, needs to be cherished. Perhaps, 75 years have passed, these words are timeless. For me must learn of past hate to better understand and combat hate today.

        If the purpose of poetry is to make one feel……
        well, you plunged a dagger in my heart.

        Mortally wounded, your eternal friend.

        D

         
      2. My Dear Drew,

        Thank you very much for your meaningful comment. I do hope you are not “mortally wounded.” This world of ours is in great need of people of character to stand up to those who do wrong. And there are many who do wrong these days. There were plenty of them in the past too.

        “Not sure if you purposely did this, but you captured the disturbing feeling Europeans and the Jews must have felt when Hitler and the Nazi’s suddenly disrupted the temporary peace.” Yes, this is it. The clue here is the concentration camp corroborated with the stamping of the writs which is something that the Nazi did.

        “I ask you this, what is beyond masterpiece?
        For words fail me at this moment.” What is beyond (behind?) ? I am not going to publicly disclose everything here. However, I am going to say this: the pain, the injustice, the extermination of millions of people. Why? Because they were considered “inferior.” In short, racial hate and the extreme to which such phenomenon can be taken. My humble reminder that our society learned very little from the tragedies of the past. My humble warning that presently as a society we are going down on a slippery road.
        “This is epic. If I had read this poem on a printed page with no acknowledgement of who wrote it, I would have thought it was written during the height of the (Shoah) the Holocaust. It was as if you entered a time machine to feel the very pain and sensations these people felt in their final moments.” I do feel some time like I live those moments.

        “I have spent much time reading and studying World War II and the Holocaust. I believe I have seen every major film on the subject. (Prefer the European films regarding the Holocaust. There is more realism than in American made films on the subject. And subtitles do not detract from the experience.) So have I, Drew.
        “The Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century” as Mark Mazower puts it is a beautiful place filled with magic. Yet, at the same time, its every stone is stained with blood.

        Neville Chamberlain on September 27 1938 : “How horrible, fantastic, incredible, it is that we should be digging trenches and trying on gas-masks here because of a quarrel in a faraway country between people of whom we know nothing.” That faraway country was former Czechoslovakia, which, at his September 1938 meeting with Hitler, Chamberlain consigned to Nazi Germany. Moreover, the actions of the French government at the time, a bloody civil war in Spain whose wounds can be felt even today, and the list can continue.

        “Perhaps, 75 years have passed, these words are timeless. For me must learn of past hate to better understand and combat hate today.” Yes, but as I previously said the question is how much did we really learned?

        Some maybe want to think at what Martin Niemöller wrote:

        “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—
        Because I was not a socialist.
        Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
        Because I was not a trade unionist.
        Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
        Because I was not a Jew.
        Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

        Well, Drew, I am sorry for my long reply. If I made any grammar mistakes or typos I truly apologize. I am really tired now.

        Thank you for reading my poem, and for touching my heart with your comment.

        Have a beutiful evening.
        G

         
  2. G, the poem, especially the ending, stops me cold. I’m especially struck by the way it starts so lovely and peacefully, then moves into the interruption of being unable to write more because of the guards. Chilling reflection of life being disrupted so suddenly by tragedies like that. An excellent piece.

     
    1. David, thank you so much for your praise. I am humbled by it. You know how much I love your comments.
      I apologize I couldn’t comment on your most recent posts. They are great. I will get back to them very soon. I am not ready with everything here yet.
      Wishing you a beautiful evening and I’ll be in touch.
      G.

       
      1. G, you are welcome as always. I love yours as well.
        Please don’t worry about my posts; I completely understand about things taking time.
        Wishing you a beautiful evening back, and I look forward to it!
        David

         
      2. David, I hope I’ll be done by the end of the week, so please write to me so we can schedule the guest post 🙂

         
    1. Thank you for your praise, Shantanu. Your friendship and your generosity mean a lot to me.

       
  3. heartbreaking stories from a time lost, a generation deprived, oh your words are like a story in a capsule, so beautifully rendered, unable to touch each other from different sides of the glass, that kind of magical wonder you create my dear

     
    1. My Dear Gina, thank you for such a beautiful comment. I cannot tell you how humbled I am by your words and grateful at the same time. Is it me, or your were busy lately? You used to post more often. I miss your posts.

       
      1. i wish i could live within your words, it comes from a beautiful place in your soul, every word so thoughtfully selected. yes i have been so very busy with work and my kids, i have many things to post but haven;t got around to it or to reading my wonderful bloggers and writers like you. thank you for asking about me, i am deeply touched

         
      2. Busy with the kids is good. I hope everything is well. Looking forward to your future posts.
        Thank you once again for your beautiful words.
        “i wish i could live within your words” You bring tears in my eyes. Thank you.

         
  4. Oh G, you capture such love, fervor, intensity and urgency. And, heartbreaking sadness. I love it all, but the second stanza –

    listen,
inside the shadows of the night of eucalyptus
winds unbraid their fragrant hair
a moon serves wine in crystal glasses
inside the mirrors blue souls dance in pairs

    Well, actually, the whole third stanza too. I felt those two hearts.

    What an epic masterpiece.

     
    1. Aw.. my dear. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You brighten my morning.

       
    1. Thank you for being here and for your wonderful words, sweetheart. They mean a lot to me.

       
    1. Thank you so much for your beautiful comment.

      Dormi sepolto in un campo di grano
      Non è la rosa non è il tulipano
      Che ti fan veglia dall’ombra dei fossi
      Ma sono mille papaveri rossi

       
    1. Aw.. I am humbled and delighted that you liked it. Thrilled that it inspires you. Thank you so much.

       
  5. wow, amazing piece indeed! Loved the aesthetic description of the scenery, it translated into beautiful imagery which soothes the mind 🤩
    p.s. shameless shoutout to my blog.
    I’m a newbie to WordPress, and thus would really appreciate the support!

     
  6. A heart-breaking poem. Thank you. I am married to a Jewish man and when we received a family document confirming that some of his family in Poland and their children had been murdered in the holocaust, my blood ran cold. Hitler and his cohorts were pure evil. Toleration and respect of all human beings, regardless of colour or creed, are paramount to future peace. Love and light.

     
    1. Thank you for your kind words and for sharing your story. It’s painful and chilling.

      “Toleration and respect of all human beings, regardless of colour or creed” Indeed.

      Peace and love to you too.

       

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