The old man
leaves his house, carries books.
A German soldier snatches his books
flings them in the mud.
The old man picks them up,
the soldier hits him in the face.
The old man falls,
the soldier kicks him and walks away.
The old man
lies in mud and blood.
Under him he feels
the books.
He Was Lucky
Anna Swirszczynska
(2)
Poem topics: away, house, face, german, soldier, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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Juan Carlos Silva Mendoza: Hi. In Hilda Schiff introduction to her book 'Holocaust poetry' she says that this is a 'humorous poem'. I really don't understand why she says that. Can anybody explain it to me?
Juan Carlos Silva Mendoza: Hi. In Hilda Schiff introduction to her book "Holocaust poetry" she says that this is a "humorous poem". I really don't understand why she says that. Can anybody explain it to me?
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