Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

The Hungarian Uprising

I was not yet born when they toppled the statue of Stalin. In the street its detached head so large it could have been the boulder Sisyphus was doomed to push upward for eternity. However, on the thirtieth anniversary at the University of Munich I was handed a leaflet.

My poem:

A Leaflet (October 1986)
The quiet mourning
deep dark descent of grandeur.
Drowned elixir.
Three thousand dead as Budapest bleeds.

If I ever visit Budapest, I will certainly go to see Stalin’s Boots in Memento Park.

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6 thoughts on “The Hungarian Uprising

  1. I still want to visit Budapest. I’ll definitely go to see it, too!

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  2. I do as well. It was one of the destinations I had in mind when years and years ago I spent a summer traveling Europe. I’d even gotten the visa then necessary for Hungary. Maybe one day…

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  3. I’ve been to Hungary, but didn’t see the Man of Steel’s boots. I was only in that beautiful city for a day. I ate a great meal and danced with my then-girlfriend to “The Blue Danube” (I’m aware that Strauss was not a Hungarian!) on a stone walkway overlooking the eponymous river.

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  4. What a great memory.

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  5. Budapest is on my to-travel-to list. Now, I’m adding Stalin’s boots to the other sights I want to see there. Thanks for this.

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  6. My pleasure.

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