| Poem: Submit | Random | Best | Worst | Recent | Comments |
|
Majdanek (Free verse) by Niphredil I couldnât look them in the face.
I couldnât,
not in that accursed place
where every timber creaked with evil
and the ground exuded malice
fresh and ripe
watered with the blood of these my people
whose faces,
black and white,
stared at me from the wooden wall.
Up the ladder:
Pastry
Down the ladder:
Fourteen
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.3333335
Posted: May 3, 2005 2:29 PM PDT; Last modified: May 14, 2005 3:38 AM PDTWeighted score: 5.1589375 Overall Rank: 5137 Comments:
[n/a]
Niphredil @ 132.68.225.2
|
16-May-05/6:48 AM
|
Reply
This poem, as well as 'Shades', was written during a visit to the death camps in Poland. Majdanek made a particularly powerful impression on me, and I wrote those two poems following the visit.
Powerful; the imagery in the last 5 lines could possibly be brought out a bit more. Not sure about 'timber creaked with evil'...it doesn't really creak with evil - timber creaked despairingly, maybe?
241 view(s)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
