Frank Freimuth Poems
|2.||Ich Bin Nicht Dein||2/1/2018|
|3.||Wenn Die Liebe Gegangen Ist||2/1/2018|
|4.||Yes, I'm Old||2/1/2018|
|5.||Helmsman, Don't Leave The Watch||2/1/2018|
|9.||St. John's Cemetery, Nuremberg,2017||2/1/2018|
Comments about Frank Freimuth
St. John's Cemetery, Nuremberg,2017
Silence, serenity and peace
lay there before my curious eyes
when I, a nosy tourist on my own,
had crossed the entrance made of stone.
This was the first time after forty years
I was to see again this peerless scene
where so much famous folks are sleeping
till someone might them wake from dream.
Once more I saw the roses on the graves,
a bowl of them on every weathered tomb,
and iron epitaphs beneath,
low speaking till the day of doom.
I saw a birch tree at about my age,
its tender green in love with roses' red,
and branches ...