Love Poems About Holocaust or Holocaust Love Poems

Holocaust love poems and/or love poems about Holocaust. Read, share, and enjoy these Holocaust love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Brenda Chiri |
Categories: beautiful, cry, emotions, holocaust, smile, true love, uplifting,

Tears Turn To Smiles

How can I explain this feeling I feel
A feeling of being whole after years
Thinking that my fate did already seal
All the heartbreaks, and all of the tears

When from out of nowhere you had arose
Showing me a hope, catching me off guard
Wishing to shout it so everyone knows
Now feeling my heart, it's no longer hard
 
No more darkness now, it lets a light shine
A glorious feeling felt in my chest
Now I have someone i can call all mine
So I see my faults, I now want the best

As tears turn to smiles and once again
I'm seeing no loss, I see how to win 


Poem Details | by Gregory R Barden |
Categories: appreciation, beauty, color, earth, holocaust, love,

O Rare, The Sky


Blessed..
   This was a day unlike any other
      The sun arose and stole my breath
         Oh, I have seen countless such day-wakes
            Here on this shore, ancient, sparkling..

Each one unique and a miracle of color
   Making the moon blush with a goodnight kiss
      But this morn there were hues beyond my imaginings and memories
         And it seems fitting now that it should have been so
            That every moment on this day be priceless..

Every minute spent here with my love, as perfect as it could be
   Every smile and laugh and kiss and tear, perfection
      Each breath an exquisite drama, every touch a blessing
         And if that is only in my perception, it matters not
            This farewell to humanity..

These last moments - more precious than any that came before
   For our eyes behold the culmination..
      The death throes of an extraordinary race - a race and existence, sublime
         That brought to fruition the best of art and acumen
            And ultimately, its own undoing..

I am content, as I watch the sky turn to fire
   I am blessed here, in my love's embrace
      A full, passionate, extraordinary life.for both of us
         And there is an incredible beauty to this sky
            Flaming, churning mushroom clouds in the distance..

And more colors I've not imagined, an intense and powerful image
   The streaming rainbows of fire and fission
      Consuming themselves and all that they sweep upon
         It seems right that it be so..
            That the end of man come in such consummate fascination..

And such treacherous bloom..
   We go out with a scream and a tremble, not a whisper in the night
      And I am with the one I love, true and true..
         The one who has shared all of life and love with me
            The one who took my breath and heart, all those years ago..

I shall look deep into her eyes as I did then
   And feel their grasp on my being..
      As this thunder and flame and terrifying beauty
         Consumes us..
            Consumes all.




~ 10th Place ~  in the "Doomsday Clock Two Minutes To Midnight" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Sponsor.


Poem Details | by Gregory R Barden |
Categories: beauty, death, earth, holocaust, true love, war, world,

Last Kiss


Our mouths and our souls mix as we become one, Love second to none.. The moon, that just moments before bathed our night - Now swallowed by light.. Huge clouds, like fresh mushrooms, bloom pink in the skies, Soft-sparkling your eyes.. Night, turned to day, with bright colors and aura.. Such dazzling horror.. Our mouths and our souls mix as we become one, We burn like the sun.. Our lives and world.done. ~ 1st Place ~ in the "Half-Eleven" Poetry Contest, Nina Parmenter, Judge & Sponsor. ~ 2nd Place ~ in the "The Last.." Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.


Poem Details | by Catherine Mary Airan |
Categories: assonance, caregiving, christian, christmas, hindi, holocaust, love,

Alive

I traveled the world
And though it is vast
I still need a truth
That would always last

Studied some books
And know my mind too
The whole time God knows
Only love will do

Studied Religion and 
Forever I found
Even God loves Love
On this I expound

My Mom in my life
Always there for me
Taught me that true love
Would there always be

Love doesn't judge man
And I'm very free
From color or type
Of good company

True love doesn't die
"Oh Love, you'll abound,"
Despite all the bad
You'll stand your ground

Love's the Law for me
We are always free
Love keeps me alive
This is Love's decree.


Poem Details | by Dan Keir |
Categories: allah, angel, angst, confusion, dream, education, faith, freedom, god, happiness, health, heaven, history, holocaust, hope, humorous, imagination, inspirational, introspection, jesus, journey, life, lonely, loss, lost, lost love, miracle, nature, on writing and words, pain, peace, people, philosophy, political, prayer, recovery from..., religious, sad, spiritual, stress, success, sympathy, teacher, time, write,

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Poem Details | by Shanity Rain |
Categories: anger, bullying, childhood, evil, holocaust, mother daughter, racism, truth, world,

Southern Love Southern hate

Southern love,  Southern hate 
they are the opposite of each other 
 I have  memories of both in the State I love dearly.

Going back to a old plantation home in the South ,
as a child I played in the many Pecan trees , collecting baskets upon baskets of fresh pecans

the smell of fresh pies , of pecan and rhubarb , oh my Mom took the prize

One afternoon , School was out , it was in summer  , reminisce of fresh lemonade 
My Mother called my name 'child come in here now " in the middle of the day ' 
she many times called and I would hide in this paradise full of honeysuckle and pecans

This time the tone was one of fear , and alert , "come inside Now"
 I ran to the top of the old plantation stairs to my Mother
I saw in the distance what seemed to be a parade in the day

This time the parade was of people in "white sheets ' going door to door,
just like salesman they would knock , they would greet
my Mother said " We have no time for this here " leave now , and leave fastyours is only teachings of Discriminate

she sent them quickly away , giving back the paper , the invite 
These people dressed in funny white  sheets  
only later I discovered what this was about 
Your Parents do their very best , to keep any Evil out

These people are not just from the South , they are all over the World 
Leaving me that day with no doubt Make the choice you have , we all do
Remember Gods Children are innocent , and many a color , they could be Blue ~


Poem Details | by Jim Pemberton |
Categories: character, christian, dedication, depression, devotion, faith, family, forgiveness, freedom, god, grave, heartbroken, history, holocaust, hope, horror, irony, jesus, life, loneliness, lonely, loss, lost, lost love, recovery from, religion, religious, snow, social, society, today, usa,

Times of Trouble Are Ahead

Read the Bible and the words that are said. Times of trouble and tribulation are ahead! All one has to do is read the book of revelation. To read about this world and this nation! Days of wickedness and evil that abounds.. Shall very soonCome “crashing to the ground!” For our sin, there’s a price that has been paid! Many have become sin’s servant and slave! Many will not escape God’s judgment and wrath! They’ve chosen the wrong direction and path! Right now.. There’s a path and a way to “escape!” Please do it right now! Before it’s too late! The right path to take, is through Christ alone! He must be the lord of your heart and home! Jesus alone, can bring hope to your soul! He’ll never leave you! Is what he wants you to know! Times of trouble and uncertainty are well on their way! Christ can help you to overcome! He can do it TODAY! By Jim Pemberton


Poem Details | by Keith Bickerstaffe |
Categories: holocaust, love, may, universe,

Who Knows Where The Time Goes


The stars may wink their last goodbyes, 
the sun may disappear, 
the moon may shrink and come to naught 
and I will shed a tear

The universe may turn to dust 
all flora, fauna waste away, 
we may spend our time in darkness 
hoping for a brand new day

Will you still be here to comfort me 
to fill my eyes with pride, 
and swell my heart with tenderness, 
my love, my blushing bride? 


Poem Details | by Scribbler Of Verses |
Categories: allegory, angst, black african american, business, courage, freedom, history, holocaust, home, hope, introspection, journey, life, lonely, loss, lost, lost love, love, memory, metaphor, miracle, native american, pain, passion, peace, people, political, relationship, romance, romantic, satire, social, thank you, time, tree, tribute, war, woman, women, work, tree, freedom, may, tree,

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Poem Details | by Laura Breidenthal |
Categories: age, analogy, devotion, holocaust, life, love, philosophy,

The Stars of the Underground

The stars that glimmer most, 
Are the stars often mistaken for stones
For they are not stones-
They are monuments of those past,
Who have worked to the bone, 
For masterment and marvel, 
For love unatoned.


Poem Details | by T Wignesan |
Categories: child, faith, hate, holocaust, love, war,

Tu le fera, n'est-ce pas, Papa- Translation of Kevin Gilbert's Won't you, Dad by T Wignesan

Tu le fera, n’est-ce pas, Papa ? – Translation of Kevin Gilbert’s « Won’t you, Dad ? » by TWignesan

Si toutes les jolies mélodies
de ce monde eussent été chantées
et toutes les chefs d’œuvres des maîtres
fussent être exhibées dans des meilleurs galléries
et toutes les statues de David et
les poèmes  et autres œuvres de l’Homme
eussent été mis à feu pour la joie de la Mort
partout dans le monde,
un petit enfant me regarda et en souriant
et en étant tout fier rempli de l’amour et de la joie
et il dis : «’Tu ne laissera pas qu’on explose la bombe
sur ma tête, PapaTu les empêchera, n’est-ce pas, Papa ?’

Son signe d’interrogation
c’était comme un arque entouré
des flammes
Je lui répondis en toute confiance :
‘Nous les empêcherons, mon enfant.’
Mais, dans mon cœur, j’ai peur et l’honte me consume
de faites je PAYE l’HOMME
pour fabriquer la BOMBE
Je lui donne de l’IMPOT pour chanter
sa chanson d’haine
Je tiens le chien de guerre en laisse
Je l’aide à éprouver la haine et la faire croître
Je PAYE l’HOMME pour fabriquer la bombe
pour garder le monde et mon enfant dans la peur
Je ferme mon cœur aux autres êtres humains
comme s’était j’avais peur
quand l’amour est en train de m’approcher

C’est MOI qui suis en faute
c’est MOI qui fais bruler la chanson
c’est moi qui fera bruler la jolie mélodie
parce que j‘ai peur que d’autres humains près de moi
peuvent d’une manière ou l’autre me faire remplir d’amour
la flamme se chauffera et fera fondre les yeux
de mes enfants en train de me regarder
et demander aujourd’hui avec amour 
et confiance en moi :
‘Tu les empêcheras de faire tomber la bombe sur moi,
n’est-ce pas, Papa ?’

© TWignesan – Paris,  2016


Poem Details | by Babafemi Yinka Olubodun |
Categories: age, appreciation, black african american, character, depression, funny love, holocaust,

Thoughtful Nile

If this dance be the last
For I see them throwing spears - 
Not for its sport
This dance, a shrilling one.
When we come home for showers
Diapers of our babies, drenched,
Such aroma; a sweet-sour tale to tell
For being ready was the dance for...
Only the dead wishes not for this dance
But the living accustomed to its essence 

Such a dance we struggle to get
Yet, a dance we fear to leave 
Nor a dance to tango for!


Poem Details | by Ian Petch |
Categories: life, lost love, people, philosophy, people, love, people,

Holocaust

The people wish for love
Reaching out for the above
The stars have turned around
All this reaching brings them down

The people pray for more
They lost their love the day before
Now god has closed his eyes
When will they see what they’ve denied?

The people ask for death
Too tired of love to feel their breath
No answers to forgive
The questions raised and why they lived

The dead can see the end
Red shadows climbing in their heads
Pure nothing in control
As they become the blackest holes

Some people rose again
The dead are proof of why they came
To hold onto their own
To remember why they’re not alone


Poem Details | by Keith Dovoric |
Categories: absence, addiction, america, christmas, holiday, holocaust, war,

Christmas with the Ones We Know and Love

Broke man all a-shiver
On another winter’s eve
He don’t have far to venture
Has nothing up his sleeves

I wonder, Where’s his Paradise tonight?

Child in a doorway
In a building, all ramshackle 
Sees mother on the bedspread
This year there’ll be no travel

Tell me, where’s her Paradise tonight?

So sing another carol, play another tune
Maybe there’ll be snowflakes from above
Take your time reflecting 
In your decorated room 
Spending Christmas
With the ones you know and love 

In the Limbo of the gutter,
Lost souls sleep with gin
No ties with the earthbound
And no pardons from their sin 

But will they dwell in Paradise tonight? 

Nations of corruption
Tied up to golden stakes
If they should push a button,
Would they clean the mess it makes?

Do they see themselves as Paradise tonight?

And sing another carol, and play another tune
And maybe there’ll be snowflakes from above
Take some time reflecting 
In our decorated rooms 
Spending Christmas
With the ones we know and love.


Poem Details | by Keith Dovoric |
Categories: bird, evil, fear, holocaust, love, power, religion,

When the Hawk Touches Down

I want things to be good
When the hawk touches down
Have to stand where we should
When the hawk touches down
When polished and spiffed,
Our spirits will lift
Let us ready the gift
When the hawk touches down

I want things to go right
When the hawk touches down
No squabbles no fights
When the hawk touches down
Not a single forked tongue
From the old or the young
Just clean air in our lungs
When the hawk touches down

When atmosphere gives in to pressure
And the surging rivers arise,
Baby, let’s show up together
With nothing but love in our eyes

Gotta keep a straight face
When the hawk touches down
All games in their place
When the hawk touches down
No signs of disorder
Or cobwebs in the corner
You’ll be shot at the border
When the hawk touches down

This race will be judged
When the hawk touches down
Never sleep on a grudge
Lest the hawk touches down
He can pick up the scent
Of discouragement 
All report to the tent
For when the hawk touches down

When atmosphere gives in to pressure
And the surging rivers arise,
Baby, let’s stand up together
With nothing but love in our eyes

Your heart is your seal
When the hawk touches down
The unrighteous made real
When the hawk touches down
From the unleavened wheat
To the washing of feet
By the true Paraclete –
All rites shall complete
when the hawk touches down

You bet we all pray
When the hawk touches down
It’s Contrition Day
When the hawk touches down
Under scarlet moon
Amid molten dunes
Jesus follows soon
after the hawk touches down.