This Poem was Submitted By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2006-11-20 23:45:25 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Shine On Star Of Hope

The air is thick with death and burns the nostrils fresh air is an illusion that fails to penetrate the lung though around me it be blackened as a dungeon I know I am not alone for I can hear the cries  and the coughing and the vomiting of those around me. I can not bear the burden here my heart breaks within me my soul finds no respite in a faith that defy's me. Yet there is one voice I listen for her always dream of hugging her as if I might one day have the chance. "hope! hope! faith and love" never quieting her voice she sings of things we can not know do not dare to hope for. She strokes the hair of a child nearby "shhh" she softly comforts she offers vivid images for them that they might never forget   the moon, the earth and sky. tiny stories of joyous times she brings and renews life. hope, faith and love. She believes in them tells those with ears that there is hope for the people's persecution is near over and mankind is basically good and will return to a higher place in the heavens. where the generals and the marshalls the German and the Jew will walk freely amidst the gentiles amongst the moon, the earth and the sky. Death by starvation and stench it mourned her to see them die they lay huddled within the others the only warmth the dead could offer were the garments they had on them tattered and torn they rent them. And still her voice would not be quieted for love is the greatest of these.

Copyright © November 2006 Ellen K Lewis

Additional Notes:
Anne Frank should always be remembered for the gifts she gave,

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2006-12-03 14:18:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Hi Ellen. It is so good to see your work again. This is a lovely poem, meaningful and deeply felt. I would like to make suggestions for trivial changes. Shine On Star Of Hope The air is thick with death and burns the nostrils [good beginning] fresh air is an illusion [and] fails to penetrate the lung [as an illusion cannot penetrate anything in any case] though around me it [is] there no need for the archaic “be” in the line above blackened as a dungeon [find a fresher analogy than black/dungeon] I know I am not alone [-for] I can hear the cries [-and ]the coughing [and] the vomiting of those around me. I can not bear the burden here [-my heart breaks within me [not fresh allusion] my soul finds no respite in a faith that [defies [sp] me. Yet there is one voice I listen for her always dream of hugging her as if I might one day have the chance. "[H]ope! hope! faith and love" never quieting her voice she sings of things we can not know do not dare to hope for. [This is ambiguous it sounds like we want to hope for these terrible things of which we do not know] She strokes the hair of a child nearby "shhh" she softly comforts she offers vivid images for them that they might never forget the moon, the earth and sky. tiny stories of joyous times she brings and renews life. hope, faith and love. She believes in them tells [those with ears?”]that there is hope [that] the [-people’s] persecution is [nearly] over and mankind is basically good and will return to a higher place in the heavens. [ gradations of heaven would not have been in her religious lexicon.] where the generals and the m[arshals] the German and the Jew will walk freely amidst the gentiles [Germans are already gentiles] amongst the moon, the earth and the sky. Death by starvation and stench [can stench cause death?] it mourned her [odd verb] to see them die they lay huddled within the others the only warmth the dead could offer were the garments they had on them tattered and torn they rent them. [who rent them? The dead can’t rent things] And still her voice would not be quieted for love is the greatest of these. It is odd to end with that evocative-of- Christian - Testament quotation if this is a tribute to Ann Frank. LOts of good images and tender moments in this piece. Best Rachel

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-11-29 03:10:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
One of the characteristics of publishing historians I dispise the most is this propensity to try and view the chronology of man in some progressively moral if we just have to get better, that we are somehow diluting the "savage" from us in trade for some fictional character of higher repute. Instead, we develop weapons that are tactically far less discriminate, have militarists that create scenarios by which they can experiment with them on the unsuspecting and end with examples of anti-progression like the Holocaust and all sorts of subsequent epics of engineered genocide right up to now. You poem recognizes the true process of mankind here and not surrealistically, the way some might like to think. The value to Anne Frank was she put a face on it. I can imagine a number of very powerful people not too happy with that. The great value of your poem is that it resounds with a theme of our all being together in this pot stirred by monsters. And that, is the only way of looking at it that can compel the slightest recourse to something better. Something that would smack of "progression". "tattered and torn they rent them", an inspired line that offers a great deal more to the mind in its pathos, than a whole vast novel like Tolstoy's, War and Peace. Powerful poem, Ellen, not one for the timid. I kind of don't like them either. JCH
This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2006-11-25 09:11:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
this is so powerful wow me with your writing and abilities to tell a story straight from the heart. Vivid these images of death and despair etc..but then there is "hope", not a God of whom you speak, but "she" the hope of the human heart..the one that sings of the good in man, the one who nudges us to go on, and brings the vinettets of love and life and love to us Ellen her voice will never cease, for that would be the end of us all..thanks so much for sharing this with me this Saturday morning..makes me go on with my day with more of that "hope" you spreak of here in my ear. Nancy
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2006-11-21 17:24:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91667
Hi Ellen.....this has to be your finest poem that I have read of and ranks with my all time favorites. Your word choices are chilling, passionate, and so descriptive that I was beside Anne Frank as she comforted these poor souls. Even though we know the stories of the ovens and the death this poem brings back those memories in a haunting manner....and I cannot dimiss it as an ordinary poem but an extraordinary one that will no doubt stay with me for a long time. The images you have created with your words are almost too painful to see but all readers will be as compelled as I am to read it over and over. One should never forget the sacrifice and the pain of this horrible time in the history of the world. Well done...bravo.. and bunches of red roses at your feet! Blessings....Marilyn
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