The Holocaust Song (August 6th, '45.)
8-15 Tuesday morning
a burning flash dissolved the skies,
death reigned without warning...
August 6th, '45.
In a lightning crash of frozen moment,
thousands were incinerated and scourged alive;
firewinds flayed through paper houses...
August 6th, '45.
People cauterized to the melting earth,
their scalding blood, their flesh that fried:
they were the lucky ones...
August 6th, '45.
Who put the horror in Hiroshima?
Who wrote shock on the human eye?
Who etched terror onto mankind's future
that August 6th, '45?
Across the warscape of that flattened city
women stumbled too numb to cry,
their skin pulped with boiling blisters...
August 6th, '45.
Lines of shuffling, staring figures
too stunned and sick to wonder why,
their faces shocked but past all panic...
August 6th, '45.
People peeled like red bananas,
those people lived but quickly died;
skin that hung like paper streamers...
August 6th, '45.
Who put the horror in Hiroshima?
Who permitted genocide?
Who sanctioned that mad disaster
on August 6th, '45.
Lurching beings like lifeless corpses
silhouette an ashen sky;
they wandered, abject, without purpose...
August 6th, '45.
Whose pride murdered Nagasaki?
Whose decision prepared the lies?
Were they doomed or just unlucky
that August day, '45?
Escape's denied to all survivors,
cancers haunt them till the day they die.
And their heirs will curse the craven authors
of August 6th, '45.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Related quotes
Song Of August!
August tunes and replays
a tearful song from the heart
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
and monsoon droplets
resonate that heartfelt song
on the strings of August.......
August 2,2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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August....
August is the month for kids it’s the last few weeks of freedom before a new school year begins.
August is the month where many parents are excited that its here cause they don’t want their kids home alone.
August is the last month before fall begins.
August is the only month that has fewer holidays than most months.
August is the month where most teens are happy because it means that it’s the last school year for most.
August is the month that I really don’t care for but I also like as well.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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My little august bloom
My little august bloom
I will always love you
Even when I am feeling blue
Where ever you may be
I will be there next to you
I will always love you
My little august bloom
If you ever cry
I can see it in the sky
I will light a candle for you
My little august bloom
Every breath that I take
I take it just for you
I wish that I was there with you
My little august bloom
You will always be the light
That warms my coldest nights
You shine bright within my eyes
The only reason for my life
My little august bloom
I am so in love with you
Nick Kler
Can't it be August again?
Can't it be August again?
When the trees swayed
With the last breath of summer upon them
The way I laughed
Without a care in the world
Summer tans beginning to linger away
And soon disappear
Can't it be August again?
When these emotions didn't exist
And all I felt was happiness
None of this depression
No, none of these feelings
Can't it be August again?
Where junior year was right around the corner
And i had a license in my hand
And car was only coming out of my mouth
Not your name
Can't it be August again?
Where you didn't even exist in my world
poem by Frani Bell
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August 7, 4: 15
J. bon jovi
It was another day
A perfect texas afternoon
A mother and two children play
The way they always do
As they raced home from the mailbox
A mother and her son
Against a little girl of 6 years old
The independant one
The deputies went door to door
Through all the neighborhood
They said I got some news to tell you folks
Im afraid it aint so good
Somehow something happened
Someone got away
Someone got the answers for what happened here today
Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no
Tell me it was just a dream - august 7 4:15
God closed his eyes and the world got mean
August 7 4:15
Now the people from the papers and the local tv news
Tried to find the reason
Cop dogs sniffed around for clues
Someone shouted hit and run
The coroner cried foul
Her blue dress was what she wore
The day they laid her body down
Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no
Tell me it was just a dream - august 7 4:15
God closed his eyes and the world got mean
August 7 4:15
I know tonight that theres an angel
Up on heavens highest hill
And no one there can hurt you baby
No one ever will
Somewhere someones conscience is like a burning bed
The flames are all around you
How you gonna sleep again
Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no
Tell me it was just a dream - august 7 4:15
God closed his eyes and the world got mean
August 7 4:15
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stuck In The August Rain
Brings jasmine tea on a painted tray
And bends to kiss my frown away.
But Im still still stuck in the august rain;
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
The covers on, the coast is clear.
Were all battened down, only us here.
But Im still still stuck in the august rain;
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
And she can read my signs.
Stuck out in the august rain:
Out in the cloudburst once again.
Single-minded in my gloom.
I appear to revel in this darkened room.
But Im still still stuck in the august rain;
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
And she can read my signs.
Stuck out in the august rain:
Out in the cloudburst once again.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Remember August
I remember August:
that breathy space before fall;
the long slow arc of the sun
touching the northern horizon.
I remember August:
its dampness confined to fog
pulled along the seashore's edge
and into the bays and rivers.
I remember
silent waves rocking small stones:
shifting, slipping, and sliding
sibilant sighs and whisperings.
I remember
the hay lying cut and straight,
drying in the summer sun
waiting for the baler to come.
I remember August:
with the soft shade and shadows,
and the long hours of twilight
creeping slowly toward the night.
On this October rain day
I remember August.
The Dog Days Of Summer
June arrived just yesterday, or so it
seemed to be. All that's left is one
more day, then June is history. July
can hardly wait to get here, it's almost
at our door. The days will get much
hotter, then it was the month before.
Just as we're getting used to July, it
too, will be on it's way. Around the
corner lies August, which can make
you rue, the day. If you think July was
hot, August is the worst by far. It's hard
to escape it's sweltering heat, no matter
who you are. You can take a dip in the
ocean, if you enjoy having a steam bath.
The water will never be cold, as August,
unleashes it wrath. Here it is, the
wonderful days of summer. Even though
we look forward to it, it can also be quite
a bummer!
poem by Audrey Heller
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The Autumn Is Coming
The autumn is coming,
The August is charming,
But the rain often darkens the sky,
And I know, you certainly love me
As I once long ago loved you.
Why the yearning
Is burning inside you?
Why are you so sad when with me?
Why in August the dreams
Can't be sweet as in spring?
The rowan is reddish
But not for the anguish
Rain drops knock at the window today
What a pity that some grievances
Can't be forgotten by loving hearts.
Not in vain
The yearning is burning,
Not in vain you are sad when with me
As in August the dreams are not real,
They come true in the earliest spring.
The autumn is coming,
The August is charming,
But the rain often darkens the sky,
And I know, you certainly love me
As I once long ago loved you.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 28th of August,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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12th August
You are my august lady who visited me on the 12th of August,
And the abosolute proof of your love cannot be denied!
For you met what you wanted on this date.
She was as sweet as the apples and,
She motivated me to move on;
For she was like the wealth of a Nation.
Oh yes, the promised land was occupied by her love;
And she had enough from what she wanted.
From Winneba to Accra and from the realms of love,
For she was hoping for something great on this date!
And there it was with her nakedness on 12th August;
With no opinionated controversy like, a boat on the deep blue sea.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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August 15
The fifteenth of August is august
For, we Indians feel gusto of freedom-
an emotional gust: terrible gusto.
Kings paid once; princes restored, hence
Peace (piece?) for all echoes in halls
Outside roll away chariots
Over the labouring class-corpses;
whom death is peace; dearth is wealth.
Gusto of August is of chicken-fry 'nd Rum
And the chicken-hearted dream of Ram 'nd Rum.
Many cry for a dish of fry
But the dish is with the wry.
Battered Tri-colours shattered
And the Colours in hands severally try
To flutter along the gutter roads.
Rum and Ram make many 'hurrahs'!
In the halls over which Silence shroud.
Silence, aged sixty-four, with pointed guns emerges
Slitting doors of emergency.
No cry, no slogans, bow all, lie all
Along the dead-roads' baton-lies,
That leads to uncouth power
over our hour of failure.
Success of the some is success of the sum;
Sum aspires access to success;
Some aspire access to success.
Ventriloquists, 'nd Sychophants dog that way!
Hum! august August 15! silence, please.
poem by Nasarudheen.P. Param
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August is the dying month
August is the dying month
When hot July struggles to keep her hold
Moving toward a hopeless chilled September
Pretending to be summer
As if children heading back to school stir the cold from the sky
It is a refined deceiver
August is a butterfly crushed on a roadway
One side dead to the pavement
The other is still vibrantly flutteringly alive
Fighting to fly away but it’s fate is already sealed
It is a delicate executioner
August is the month colors trickle from trees
A first leaf unnoticed tumbles
Sheepishly the others will shortly follow
Shamefully they will drift to the ground
It is a subtle destroyer
August is 6 PM
The disillusion of a day realized
Dinners to be eaten alone
Murky dark mixes with the daylight
Spitting out gloomy gray
It is a sophisticated betrayer
August is the death rattle
Demise by means of a Fall
Stealing gaped mouth last breaths
Swallowing everything into its earth
Coughing back a cold winter in return.
poem by Wanda Swim Strunk
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August
August brings so many things to mind
Like county fairs with fun foods and rides easy to find.
Catfish scream louder than ever for our fishing poles,
Inviting us to joyous jaunts at our favorite watering holes.
The dog days of summer start drawing to a close,
But there’s still time for a lake visit or just a sprinkler hose.
August August, we thank you for your role in this summer.
Without you no doubt this season would be a real bummer.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Long Ago
I’d like to speak of this memory…
but it’s so faded now…as though nothing is left—
because it was so long ago, in my early adolescent years.
A skin as though of jasmines…
that August evening— was it August?—
I can still just recall the eyes: blue, I think they were…
Ah yes, blue: a sapphire blue.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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August
August
The massive heat which paralyzed any thought of going
outside during the day, the heat was as a huge military
blanket glued to the body like skin of grief, wars fought
for no gain other than the knowledge that new masters
who promised peace and freedom, will renege first thing
when safely in power as sure as August will return.
The September evening is soft and gentle as lover´s sigh
the breeze is cooling wooden telephone poles, it is now
possible to ring without hearing the crackling of agony of
sap dripping dowels. The voices of people eating their
meal on terraces and porches are like forgotten a tune
remembered; this, a moment to be cherished when rain
and fog comes and turns the village into gloom and we´ll
under our umbrellas say: ” August wasn´t that awful.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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On The Sixteenth Day Of August
On the sixteenth day of August
Came a newsflash on tv,
'The King of rock and roll has died
In Memphis Tennessee',
The cause of death his kindly heart
So generous and true,
His life cut short within his prime
At only forty two.
As thousands gathered at the gates
Of Graceland they did cry,
In disbelief and horror for
He was too young to die,
They prayed and then lit candles there
The flames did burn so bright,
And glistened like the stars above
And shone throughout the night.
They sang his songs together
And his music filled the air,
They knew that he was with them
As they felt his presence there,
The people stayed and would not leave
And still their tears did flow,
I shan't forget that August day
So many years ago.
poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Far Off
I should like to relate this memory ...
but it is so faded now ... scarecely anthing is left --
because it lies far off, in the years of my early manhood.
A skin as if made of jasmine ...
that night in August -- was it August? -- that night ...
I can just barely remember the eyes; they were, I think, blue ...
Ah yes, blue; a sapphire blue.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Do Not Ask
Don’t remind the August sky
how you used to love July,
and even if you should remember
August skies when it’s September,
don’t brood on them, for they have gone,
and you should only dwell upon
the skies that you see now above.
It’s just the same, of course, with love;
what love you may have lost is not
what you should think of, hot to trot
with someone new who takes your fancy.
It’s not a sign of sycophancy
to tell her that you’ve never seen
a girl more beautiful, or been
more happy than you are with her.
Forget the past which, de rigueur,
is just the past, and don’t see shrouds
in skies where there are sometimes clouds.
What's past you must forget and bury;
look up, ahead and now be merry!
Inspired by the lyrics of “Many a New Day, ” quoted in John Steele Gordon’s review of “The Complete Lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II, ” edited by Amy Asch (“Getting to Know You, Mr. Hammerstein, ” NYT, December 25,2008) :
Many a light lad may kiss and fly,
A kiss gone by is bygone.
Never’ve I asked an August sky, 'Where has last July gone? '
Never’ve I wandered through the rye, wondering where has some
guy gone;
Many a new day will dawn before I do!
12/25/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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[ Late August ]
Heat still sizzles in the fields
In August summer still yields
The sun shines to no regret
Wind sauntering 'til sunset
'though heat is being cool off by the rain
Preserving flowers, and meadow - green
But summer still taking what it brings
The August incense with fugacious wings
Bounty blooms, butterflies, bees are insane
Birds, crickets sing and the night listens
Summer's sky, bright burst so clear
It's the late August in summer's fair
Summer in August still in standby
Sooner balmy weather is coming by
The hot temper will bicker with cool air
With soothing breeze here comes September
Ency Bearis
(c) copyright 2012
poem by Ency Bearis
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Awe gust
The wind whirls
And stirs the dust
Leaving the grass with nothing to anchor
It is the august wind
That blows so viciously
After the winter’s chill
Has tormented the frail shrubs
It blows dust in my face
As if to spite me
For I can do nothing to stop it
But somewhere in me
I smile in defiance
Because I know
That the next season is spring
But unlike the august wind
I have no one to spite
I curse and praise nature at the same time
For the august wind
And the life that buds in spring
Through these episodes
I get exposed
As one with no might
I take whatever she throws
Even if I do not like it
I’m just grateful
That she doesn’t only frown
But smiles at times
poem by Matete Motsoaledi
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