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Eva, Transfigured

A restless fire burnt in her blue Aryan eyes
And she wore a pretty dress
Because she loved to be beautiful,
Even though she was by then
No more than a bird in a bunkered cage.

But the man she loved did not see:
He had other priorities, affairs of state,
Still blindly fighting a lost war.
The others in the bunker wanted to live
And prayed they might escape to the world,
Such as it was in those closing weeks;
But Eva did not care, as she knew her destiny,
Finally coming out of the shadows.

She so much wanted to be young and happy
Even when there was nothing to celebrate,
Even when their world was disintegrating
In those final doom-laden Berlin days.
Eva wanted so to dance in the Spring,
But there was nothing to dance about
And no one to dance with.

Eva had no fear of death’s sad sting
As long as she was with her beloved.
But as the dark days went by,
Inevitable hopelessness set in;
And then the very last hours came,
When all hope of victory was finally gone,
Destroyed by the roar of the conquerors’ barbarian guns
And their wild revengeful rape and pillage.

So kleine Eva finally married him, her Fuehrer,
But to what avail and for what hopeless future?
Soon they would be joined only in death,
Despised by a scornful, hating world,
Their corpses burned by devoted soldiers,
And then fought over by divided allies.
Little Eva was not very bright,
But her eyes shone brightly as she died
Happily, died for him whom she worshipped:
To her, Adolf was her friend and lover
And a shining hero, not the devil incarnate.

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I think your poem describes Eva and her loyalty to one-nut Adolf pretty well. You seem to know a lot about the brown-shirted dictator--is it true that he had only one testicle? Dirty bastard that he was, no one can say he didn't have huevos (well, maybe one leetle one--or two shrunken pequeños huevos maybe)? He was no chicken. Poor Eva. But love is where one finds it. Nice write, Edna.

>Please visit my website:

...was one of the greats, whether you like him or not.

Unlike der Trumpf who will be a footnote in history.

Poet(ess) to the Stars

author comment

Ol' Adolf was such a wag!
everything he did was "tongue in cheek,"
always up fer a laugh was Mein Führer,,,
god bless his cotton socks!!


One o' my favourite poets reading one o' my favourite poems,,,


PS, yours is comparable....

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