Lager Der Untermenschen

Lager Der Untermenschen short poem

Photo by Rande Archer

Through the wrought iron gate,
Emblazoned with an ironic promise
Of freedom earned through labour.
A promise fulfilled only for the lucky few.

Within, dull, threatening concrete towers
Survey the inner pen, once filled
With innocent men and women,
Ready to be incarcerated for their ‘sin.’

It was here that such innocent people
Were persecuted for being different
For deviating from the ‘norm’,
For being ‘impure’ or ‘following the wrong path’

This place was party to a genocide unseen,
Out of the public eye, behind the scenes,
Reduced to mere numbers. Worked to death,
Slaughtered, even, one might say.

It’s tangible: this place is wrong.
Built upon foundations of evil,
Whose wheels, once turned by hatred,
Drove a nation into the dark.

This is a place that should never have been.
Though the fuel has dwindled and died,
The burn-marks it leaves
Will never, ever heal.

Terrible scars of the past,
A grim reminder of the evil
That man is capable of.

Poet’s Note
This was inspired by a trip to Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Said trip was really, really freaky. My muse responded by throwing this out.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Ed Gosling

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
My muse is like an excitable dog. It catches sight of totally random things and starts yapping and running around and wagging its tail and WILL NOT STOP until I write a poem about it.My poetry is sometimes based on personal experience and sometimes on other things. Aside from that, I enjoy video games (My favourite game series is Mass Effect) and the popular television show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "Lager Der Untermenschen"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Chandrama Deshmukh

I hate the place already, without knowing much about it.
Some places do that to you. The plight is engraved in the walls, the pain lays hidden in corners.
Your words make the image so real.


Yes and to this day I reckon you can feel the sadness deep sadness and fear of so many. This type of poem must stay around always to remind us how man can so easily slip into evil.