all my family South America
I was left
my two daughters six and nine
I go by boat
by boat to my family
Buenos Aires three weeks
these Blue Star steamers
three weeks over
a nursery onboard
the hooter of the steamer
a terrible noise all rushed out
the children flew
a stormy sitting room
the grand piano roll
save your kids run over
by a grand piano rolling
dashing
save the children
Susie: a Blue Star Line journey
2007
Showing posts with label holocaust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holocaust. Show all posts
Monday, 20 April 2009
when I eat celery
childhood memories/memories of childhood
a happy home a very happy home
opposite
a small park
a tennis court and a bowling green
my father had a square racquet
he cut half the handle off
whacking that tennis ball:
I was only eight
I can go right back
to my first day at school, terrified
my first day I was terrified of course
20 kids with coloured chalks
the smell of chalks in the room
my first day; terror and success
later on: making
animals tigers dogs elephants
God must have guided my hand
I didn’t know I had any talent in that direction
but God must have been guiding my hand
the teacher rapped me she didn’t believe that I’d done it
I cried at the injustice
first day at school crying: my first day
I was a plump child
the girl stuck a pin in me to see if I would burst
I remember when I eat celery
coming home from dancing
home from dancing to a tea of celery
the smell, the taste of celery
a proper tea from home
jams and smells
jams and always cooking
Germany: my father
at 6 o clock in the garden
a lovely garden, fruits and everything
on Shabbas we’d go to the shul for a
wonderful childhood
when the nazis came it was all destroyed
smashed our home
threw everything in the street
we went into the fields when they came
my mother said we are alive it does not matter
we had to get out
we had to get out
to survive
incomplete living
dependent on the day
it wasn’t memory it was my life
England:
changed continents, changed schools
going to school a stranger
a day to day basis new experience
everybody has his or her own experience
I wasn’t the only one
always a governess
if we didn’t like them we had to get rid
my mother very kind, very strict
lots of rules: rules in the home
my father every morning a pony and trap
my father working in the small flower garden
he went every morning by horse
to see the workers
see the wheat fields with the red flowers
my wife and I came as refugees
the only way to get a permit was to work: domestic work
my knowledge of English was limited
my wife a cook to prepare the meals
a huge dining room, a huge lounge
madam goes to the dentist today, she won’t have any lunch
I knocked the gong and nothing was there for her
my wife misunderstood
I rang the gong again
my introduction to England
well I have a few memories
I suppose the most powerful is
my head against the wall where my parents slept
my father had come home and
there was a terrible noise and father had died
I was six
a powerful memory
I remember the garden more than the house
sit and read: a London garden
we had a plum tree
alternate years plums
other years a sticky gum on its bark
grapes in the garden a small summer house
in a London garden
in sight of the zoo you could see polar bears
and
animals tigers dogs elephants
God must have guided my hand
the wheat fields with the red flowers
my father working in the small flower garden
my father at 6 o clock in the garden
domestic work
childhood memories/memories of childhood
a happy home a very happy home
the smell, the taste of celery
each time we speak we remember something else
Collaborative Poem: Morris Feinmann Home
2007
a happy home a very happy home
opposite
a small park
a tennis court and a bowling green
my father had a square racquet
he cut half the handle off
whacking that tennis ball:
I was only eight
I can go right back
to my first day at school, terrified
my first day I was terrified of course
20 kids with coloured chalks
the smell of chalks in the room
my first day; terror and success
later on: making
animals tigers dogs elephants
God must have guided my hand
I didn’t know I had any talent in that direction
but God must have been guiding my hand
the teacher rapped me she didn’t believe that I’d done it
I cried at the injustice
first day at school crying: my first day
I was a plump child
the girl stuck a pin in me to see if I would burst
I remember when I eat celery
coming home from dancing
home from dancing to a tea of celery
the smell, the taste of celery
a proper tea from home
jams and smells
jams and always cooking
Germany: my father
at 6 o clock in the garden
a lovely garden, fruits and everything
on Shabbas we’d go to the shul for a
wonderful childhood
when the nazis came it was all destroyed
smashed our home
threw everything in the street
we went into the fields when they came
my mother said we are alive it does not matter
we had to get out
we had to get out
to survive
incomplete living
dependent on the day
it wasn’t memory it was my life
England:
changed continents, changed schools
going to school a stranger
a day to day basis new experience
everybody has his or her own experience
I wasn’t the only one
always a governess
if we didn’t like them we had to get rid
my mother very kind, very strict
lots of rules: rules in the home
my father every morning a pony and trap
my father working in the small flower garden
he went every morning by horse
to see the workers
see the wheat fields with the red flowers
my wife and I came as refugees
the only way to get a permit was to work: domestic work
my knowledge of English was limited
my wife a cook to prepare the meals
a huge dining room, a huge lounge
madam goes to the dentist today, she won’t have any lunch
I knocked the gong and nothing was there for her
my wife misunderstood
I rang the gong again
my introduction to England
well I have a few memories
I suppose the most powerful is
my head against the wall where my parents slept
my father had come home and
there was a terrible noise and father had died
I was six
a powerful memory
I remember the garden more than the house
sit and read: a London garden
we had a plum tree
alternate years plums
other years a sticky gum on its bark
grapes in the garden a small summer house
in a London garden
in sight of the zoo you could see polar bears
and
animals tigers dogs elephants
God must have guided my hand
the wheat fields with the red flowers
my father working in the small flower garden
my father at 6 o clock in the garden
domestic work
childhood memories/memories of childhood
a happy home a very happy home
the smell, the taste of celery
each time we speak we remember something else
Collaborative Poem: Morris Feinmann Home
2007
pictures speak louder
this is the story of my life
to cut a long story short
Hitler was organising Mein Kampf
Communism collapse
my grand people bombed
Hitler financed by the wealthy
the Russian revolution
Hitler used my parents from Poland
my father
my father
a marvellous caring wonderful woodworker
an artist born in wood
I was born in Hull
what happened was
after the war organised a return
Lodz a death camp people
simply thrown in
pictures speak louder
nothing left
all my grandparents
burnt nothing left
my father very skilled marvellous hands
wood must come to life
demanded in cathedrals
that he had a pony + trap
travelled all over
to this day when I still see old shafts pointing in the air
it brings my father
an old stone cottage a stable
intelligent pony he’d stamp until we fed him
my childhood memory
his hooves struck sparks
flying
Louis Marx
from Poland with a pony: a journey
2008
photo: Lois Blackburn 2008
marching to the song
my father came from the courts
said the law no longer exists
I spent the afternoon I remember
him putting a little ornament ashtray
I remember
three times in my suitcase
along the platform groups of families
on the journey a playful time
Nazi’s were
marching to the song
if the Jewish blood …
much more waiting to say
I remember my parents waving and the sandwiches
my mother had so carefully prepared
waved in her hand
April acrid spring in the air
the tune Maotzur
the hatred in the air
HM Goldberg: a journey Berlin/England
2007
Morris Feinmann Home,
said the law no longer exists
I spent the afternoon I remember
him putting a little ornament ashtray
I remember
three times in my suitcase
along the platform groups of families
on the journey a playful time
Nazi’s were
marching to the song
if the Jewish blood …
much more waiting to say
I remember my parents waving and the sandwiches
my mother had so carefully prepared
waved in her hand
April acrid spring in the air
the tune Maotzur
the hatred in the air
HM Goldberg: a journey Berlin/England
2007
Morris Feinmann Home,
Gold ring
And there was a stop
because we were
between Germany
and Holland
the SS opened my case
my
parents
bought me a
gold ring with a
black stone
they took it
off my finger
A train journey
Germany
/1939
Photo © Lois Blackburn 2009
a train journey Germany /1938
leaving Germany
fleetingly a relief
my father had been
in and out of jail
I have to put myself back
escaping
food matters more than
scenery
I project myself backward
train journeys
but these were
d i f f e r e n t circumstances
past holidays
here we were escaping
he was with us
that was relief
in itself
not homesick
the reverse
time projecting
my father in and out of jail
tension leaving me
we were leaving
the b o r d e r
a railway carriage
anon
2008
Photo: Lois Blackburn 2009
fleetingly a relief
my father had been
in and out of jail
I have to put myself back
escaping
food matters more than
scenery
I project myself backward
train journeys
but these were
d i f f e r e n t circumstances
past holidays
here we were escaping
he was with us
that was relief
in itself
not homesick
the reverse
time projecting
my father in and out of jail
tension leaving me
we were leaving
the b o r d e r
a railway carriage
anon
2008
Photo: Lois Blackburn 2009
a train journey Buchenwald /1938
where the train stopped
I don’t know if it was a counter or it was train station or what
anyway
everybody had to get out quickly
yknow raus raus and er and er and then had to pass this row of
SS
guards and they just hit out
blindly at anything that moved so er and then er we we arrived in the
camp
they made us sit
on the parade ground and uh they gave us a sort of fish soup to eat it was pretty horrible
but that uh that
was laced with a
strong purgative but we weren’t allowed to move from the parade ground so you can
imagine
what happened so
then er yknow eventually we were detained to our hut where we were supposed to live
after a fashion on
on wooden shelves
managed to get cleaned up a bit and er that was it they didn’t actually do
anything to us
I mean I remember the first night
the SS came in with dogs and the dogs went for anything that moved
and er yknow
if the dogs selected somebody
he was taken out and beaten up it wasn’t very pleasant
I mean
the first the first two or three nights
were really horrible then after that things settled down of course we
were all starving
but er they didn’t
do anything to us
after that some
some people
actually went onto the electric wire threw themselves on the electric wire
anon
2008
I don’t know if it was a counter or it was train station or what
anyway
everybody had to get out quickly
yknow raus raus and er and er and then had to pass this row of
SS
guards and they just hit out
blindly at anything that moved so er and then er we we arrived in the
camp
they made us sit
on the parade ground and uh they gave us a sort of fish soup to eat it was pretty horrible
but that uh that
was laced with a
strong purgative but we weren’t allowed to move from the parade ground so you can
imagine
what happened so
then er yknow eventually we were detained to our hut where we were supposed to live
after a fashion on
on wooden shelves
managed to get cleaned up a bit and er that was it they didn’t actually do
anything to us
I mean I remember the first night
the SS came in with dogs and the dogs went for anything that moved
and er yknow
if the dogs selected somebody
he was taken out and beaten up it wasn’t very pleasant
I mean
the first the first two or three nights
were really horrible then after that things settled down of course we
were all starving
but er they didn’t
do anything to us
after that some
some people
actually went onto the electric wire threw themselves on the electric wire
anon
2008
Saturday, 18 April 2009
Ought?
ought we pay less attention to the things that separate us
and pay more attention to the things we have in common
has any person any right to any part of the world
in a tribal society
- and all of us come from a tribal society -
do you think that aggression and dislike of the stranger was necessary
to survive
do you think this wholescale evil that nazism proved to be has
packed them up in cattletrucks
starved them poisoned them
and killed them in the most horrible way
I don’t think that happened before
people are substantially the same
and culture is only a local expression
rather cruel blonde men and rather substantial blonde women
history is always us
history is always what an historian puts into it
this was a feeling of utter destruction
you realise you have lost your home, your nation
it was worse than saying goodbye to my parents
gone forever not to come back
Group at Morris Feinmann Home
6 Nov 08
and pay more attention to the things we have in common
has any person any right to any part of the world
in a tribal society
- and all of us come from a tribal society -
do you think that aggression and dislike of the stranger was necessary
to survive
do you think this wholescale evil that nazism proved to be has
packed them up in cattletrucks
starved them poisoned them
and killed them in the most horrible way
I don’t think that happened before
people are substantially the same
and culture is only a local expression
rather cruel blonde men and rather substantial blonde women
history is always us
history is always what an historian puts into it
this was a feeling of utter destruction
you realise you have lost your home, your nation
it was worse than saying goodbye to my parents
gone forever not to come back
Group at Morris Feinmann Home
6 Nov 08
never to be forgotten
go through hell
its not hearsay
we’re all dying
look, I am 88 I have a pacemaker
I’ve had a stroke
the trains leading to Auschwitz
my parents
there are over 60 million who died
I have a duty to talk
there’s a lot of people who want to forget
but this is me for the rest of my life
this is me morning noon and night
the wounds are too great
this story
it’s not a story
not fiction
I come from Berlin
I won’t set foot on German soil
left on 16 April 1939
said goodbye to parents and family
never to see them again
went from Bahnhof Zoo
put on the train to Ostend
I was pulled out of the train
because I had a big J on my passport
Jewish
at the border I was stripped and I thought
England or concentration camp?
I was taken by one of these nazi officers
and stripped
I was 18 years old
I was a very protected child
humiliated
because of Kristallnacht
my father realised there was no future for Jewish people
he was pensioned off for being Jewish
it got worse
no radio
no telephone
you couldn’t go out
I was 18 years old
you couldn’t go out dancing
the first two or three years I thought in German
now I think in English
Susie Linton
6 November 2008
a conversation about trains
a little bit of history
never forget
the cattle truck
on his nineteenth birthday
my husband was sent out of Germany
his father sent him
his birthday, April 1933
the first year of the nazis
how those laws became harsher
(got his family out
father imprisoned Kristallnacht 1938
but that comes later)
33 the police were not allowed
to investigate crimes against Jews
I was born Berlin 1920
my parents perished in Auschwitz
(you’re too young, you don’t remember
not to buy goods from Jews
kosher slaughters banned
SA men standing in the door)
forever marching
before it’s too late, get them out
Kindertransport, Department of Racial Hygiene
people did not realise it was a matter of life
and death’ll blow over
1934 smoothed over for me
1935 remove human rights for Jews
it was badly reported
I was a funny little girl, liked adult conversation
I remember strange things
two people getting married because one had a permit
there was a war looming
forever marching
the storm troopers
exiled from school because I was Jewish
expelled from school because I was Jewish
of those not-pure
of the less-than-people
measured
at school, just the Jewish children
the teacher who did the measuring
said it was necessary
I hated it, the measuring
the seeds:
never forget
the cattle truck
internment camps and work camps
the heart had shrunk
when you starve people to that degree
the heart will shrink
sun snow storm
greyish blue army in the snow
prejudice first
then the science to do it
the study of a person’s character
by the shape of the head
some people would say
every era is an era of pseudo-science
take you to ?
where the Jews were separated
either to Auschwitz, or ?
my parents to ?
(my father was a very wise man
we went to Holland)
we all come from tribes
the fact that we are here means that we come from
a successful tribe
very successful, made a lot of money
didn’t marry and intermingle
people you mark as
different
(ah but we are all children of Abraham)
back
inevitably
to Hitler
people started to get rounded up
this one’s gone, this one’s gone
ask yourself: why are we here?
because we have evolved
(why do armies behave as they do - forever marching?)
the fact that we are here means that we come from
a successful tribe
this is one step of evolution
now what is the next?
I remember – I hated it
that I was being measured
why did I survive and they didn’t
why did I survive and others couldn’t
a wound that will never heal
every era is an era of pseudo-science
to understand how people can do terrible things
human
fearful
swayed
in the 1920s no money, afraid
a uniform had a huge amount of power
his hatred
did not become a passion until later
he was a loser and this is why
this badness
wasn’t good for anything
recovering from gas in a hospital when he hears of
the stab in the back
Mein Kampf in prison
writing in isolation:
in Germany I think the hatred of Jews is in-born
I’ve had it
callipers were used
a map of the head
phrenology, character and race
March 1941: Jews forbidden to leave
the final decision has been made
storm troopers
my brother didn’t want to join the last transport
it was shouted at him who killed Christ?
a little bit of history
lately as my life goes to the end
I think about it
Group poem
Morris Feinmann Home
28th November 2008
never forget
the cattle truck
on his nineteenth birthday
my husband was sent out of Germany
his father sent him
his birthday, April 1933
the first year of the nazis
how those laws became harsher
(got his family out
father imprisoned Kristallnacht 1938
but that comes later)
33 the police were not allowed
to investigate crimes against Jews
I was born Berlin 1920
my parents perished in Auschwitz
(you’re too young, you don’t remember
not to buy goods from Jews
kosher slaughters banned
SA men standing in the door)
forever marching
before it’s too late, get them out
Kindertransport, Department of Racial Hygiene
people did not realise it was a matter of life
and death’ll blow over
1934 smoothed over for me
1935 remove human rights for Jews
it was badly reported
I was a funny little girl, liked adult conversation
I remember strange things
two people getting married because one had a permit
there was a war looming
forever marching
the storm troopers
exiled from school because I was Jewish
expelled from school because I was Jewish
of those not-pure
of the less-than-people
measured
at school, just the Jewish children
the teacher who did the measuring
said it was necessary
I hated it, the measuring
the seeds:
never forget
the cattle truck
internment camps and work camps
the heart had shrunk
when you starve people to that degree
the heart will shrink
sun snow storm
greyish blue army in the snow
prejudice first
then the science to do it
the study of a person’s character
by the shape of the head
some people would say
every era is an era of pseudo-science
take you to ?
where the Jews were separated
either to Auschwitz, or ?
my parents to ?
(my father was a very wise man
we went to Holland)
we all come from tribes
the fact that we are here means that we come from
a successful tribe
very successful, made a lot of money
didn’t marry and intermingle
people you mark as
different
(ah but we are all children of Abraham)
back
inevitably
to Hitler
people started to get rounded up
this one’s gone, this one’s gone
ask yourself: why are we here?
because we have evolved
(why do armies behave as they do - forever marching?)
the fact that we are here means that we come from
a successful tribe
this is one step of evolution
now what is the next?
I remember – I hated it
that I was being measured
why did I survive and they didn’t
why did I survive and others couldn’t
a wound that will never heal
every era is an era of pseudo-science
to understand how people can do terrible things
human
fearful
swayed
in the 1920s no money, afraid
a uniform had a huge amount of power
his hatred
did not become a passion until later
he was a loser and this is why
this badness
wasn’t good for anything
recovering from gas in a hospital when he hears of
the stab in the back
Mein Kampf in prison
writing in isolation:
in Germany I think the hatred of Jews is in-born
I’ve had it
callipers were used
a map of the head
phrenology, character and race
March 1941: Jews forbidden to leave
the final decision has been made
storm troopers
my brother didn’t want to join the last transport
it was shouted at him who killed Christ?
a little bit of history
lately as my life goes to the end
I think about it
Group poem
Morris Feinmann Home
28th November 2008
Friday, 17 April 2009
Nazis
; the touch of the collar of my mother’s dress
my favourite toy was my doll pushed
in my pram
on a little train to visit my grandfather; a fenced
garden with a cherry tree, a chestnut and chickens
I will never forget; what will I never forget?
I will never forget the day war broke; a spring-like day
it was momentous indeed
the children I played with in the garden;
always
in
sunshine
first day at school; the school was very grand
make many .:.. ::.: . ..: . ;
my favourite toy; little celluloid doll; make dresses for
a childhood journey; remember and go back
I grew up with the nazis; you never forget that
I will never forget; it’s gone. It may come back
it’s the first thing that goes; names.
I lose words memory
some happy; this morning
I wanted to find the word orchid
the word came to me like a
present
remember
things that happened but don’t ask me what;
they’re
all
gone
my favourite childhood toy; I used to play with
hope
a childhood journey; a jewish camp
it was exciting because we were never allowed out; the smells of
the forest were
vivid
I will never forget my grandfather, he was a farmer;
travel with his horse and trap along the countryside
a Jewish school for girls; I was
happy there, the festivals, friends ice-skating;
the smells of cooking
arose
from the cafeteria
my favourite toy doll a Chanukah present
I was a modest child; I loved the toy
sleeping in her
childhood journey; a car, it was very
unusual
I will try never to forget
I remember the nazis; you never forget
my mother taking me to school; round the corner an avenue
it’s very difficult; so long ago
what do I sense?
my favourite toy;
a childhood journey;;;; the vibration of the carriage
I will never forget trips in memory
all the smells
seaweed / puddings
I remember a journey
with my parents
in the Winter;
it was very dark
we had difficulty to see our way
(in the snow)
**
; hypnotised
Margot Blake, Jane Hyman, Agneta Levi, Joan Behrens, Olga Sandler, Myra Ellis
18th October 2007
my favourite toy was my doll pushed
in my pram
on a little train to visit my grandfather; a fenced
garden with a cherry tree, a chestnut and chickens
I will never forget; what will I never forget?
I will never forget the day war broke; a spring-like day
it was momentous indeed
the children I played with in the garden;
always
in
sunshine
first day at school; the school was very grand
make many .:.. ::.: . ..: . ;
my favourite toy; little celluloid doll; make dresses for
a childhood journey; remember and go back
I grew up with the nazis; you never forget that
I will never forget; it’s gone. It may come back
it’s the first thing that goes; names.
I lose words memory
some happy; this morning
I wanted to find the word orchid
the word came to me like a
present
remember
things that happened but don’t ask me what;
they’re
all
gone
my favourite childhood toy; I used to play with
hope
a childhood journey; a jewish camp
it was exciting because we were never allowed out; the smells of
the forest were
vivid
I will never forget my grandfather, he was a farmer;
travel with his horse and trap along the countryside
a Jewish school for girls; I was
happy there, the festivals, friends ice-skating;
the smells of cooking
arose
from the cafeteria
my favourite toy doll a Chanukah present
I was a modest child; I loved the toy
sleeping in her
childhood journey; a car, it was very
unusual
I will try never to forget
I remember the nazis; you never forget
my mother taking me to school; round the corner an avenue
it’s very difficult; so long ago
what do I sense?
my favourite toy;
a childhood journey;;;; the vibration of the carriage
I will never forget trips in memory
all the smells
seaweed / puddings
I remember a journey
with my parents
in the Winter;
it was very dark
we had difficulty to see our way
(in the snow)
**
; hypnotised
Margot Blake, Jane Hyman, Agneta Levi, Joan Behrens, Olga Sandler, Myra Ellis
18th October 2007
Thursday, 16 April 2009
Dozens
we often had food at the end of evening
dozens of recipes
after talking solidly
just whatever fancy
strikes
very talkative family
music
that would come foremost
because it interested all parts
(I’m looking for the weather before it gets dark
I’m frightened of the dark)
it depended on our mood it could be hilarious
it depended whatever takes their
fancy (died in this season)
violins and pipes homemade
a soprano very small
we played passionate
discussions
(it’s not bravery it’s cowardice)
tea coffee sweets food in the evening
the end of evening
(it is coming)
Olga Sandler
November 2007
dozens of recipes
after talking solidly
just whatever fancy
strikes
very talkative family
music
that would come foremost
because it interested all parts
(I’m looking for the weather before it gets dark
I’m frightened of the dark)
it depended on our mood it could be hilarious
it depended whatever takes their
fancy (died in this season)
violins and pipes homemade
a soprano very small
we played passionate
discussions
(it’s not bravery it’s cowardice)
tea coffee sweets food in the evening
the end of evening
(it is coming)
Olga Sandler
November 2007
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