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Share your poetry on currently unfolding Russo-Ukrainian war in the comments section below. We received a large response on our first post of poetry on Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February, and poets are still actively submitting on this topic, so here is your chance again to share your poetry. Please don’t repost any poems from the previous post.
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Margaret, thank you for your comments and sharing your experiences. At some point I plan to submit a poem about…
Paul, I wonder if both poems are from your own experiences both in a boarding school and in hunting for…
Adam, what a great elegant elegy for someone who only sought to inform, debate, and speak freely. We often pay…
The comparison of these three Stooges with the movie version is inescapable and another brilliant poem that spears, lampoons, and…
Is Starmer willing to part with Scotland? Will Carney now allow Quebec to secede?
In Chernihiv, March 3rd, 2022
Radice Lebewsu
“Lips that would kiss/ Form prayers to broken stone”
—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”
A soldier hears the howling wind. A missile hits the ground.
He rushes from the makeshift camp to reach the heavy sound.
With hawk-like eyes, he sees the withered grass and broken street.
His cold heart melts. In army boots, his run is fast and fleet.
No sooner than he comes to where the former bread line was,
he has arrived there on his feet, that dead and dying place.
He looks back where that vulture flew into that hungry crowd,
but in harsh silence it is now a leaden kind of loud.
The hung sun shines among no pines, a thousand miles of clouds.
Below the heaved and heavy concrete slabs, and dozens down.
I read that story about an older gentleman who was killed by Russian gunfire as he stood in line to get bread for a female companion who had a medical condition and he helped her out. Was that your inspiration here?
There have been many wars and
We believe that some are worse,
We seem to pick and choose,
But as long as we remain immune
We wring our hands and remain mute,
Whilst struggling to comprehend
Why innocent children die, for such
Obviously evil and meaningless lies.
We attempt to reassure ourselves
That this tragedy could never happen,
Here, at home, for we are certain
Somewhere far away is where
This unleashing of evil takes place.
So it was with shock I heard one say
A studious man at that, that those
Who die brutally in the Ukraine,
Must be because they did wrong,
It’s karma from the past, a debt
They had to pay from previous lives
Of slaughter they took part in!
What a thought, well perhaps that’s
Why Armageddon’s not far off.
Yet if reincarnation is believed
Then why does an omnipotent God
Send us here repeatedly to fail?
Does He relish the drama and the play
With the whole world His stage
Or does He sit alone and cry, knowing
That all will eventually come to see Him,
Yet again full of regrets, for another
Wasted life not lived as He intends.
Mia, in the 2d stanza, line 3 needs correction as the word “the” appears twice.
Fixed
Thank you both.
I find screens a bit of a pain but still I stay and read..
I posted without finishing, I mean until I see double!
Limerick
Prince Putin reads history books
And knows how an empire looks,
So he puts up a fight
Feeling might makes him right
As he takes all the pawns with his rooks.
After reading this I now find myself thinking of Putin as Prince Putin
and it will not leave my head. Always the mark of a great rhyme is how it stays with you I think.
Prince Putin the Emperor and rogue
Unleashed war and terror
He fell into a trap,
For it was all in the plan
To leave him without any clothes.
What do you think, or should I shut the doorange on it now
(still one of my favourite phrases)
Mia, the Emperors New Clothes allusion could be a perfect rejoinder to my limerick. Good idea!
Yes, it was the word empire in your limerick that made me think of Putin as an emperor and then the rest followed. Thank you.
One of the reasons I like SCP, it is inspirational.
When Hitler invaded Sudetenland,
The West didn’t make a stand.
A bully—yes; but he had clout.
We all know how that turned out.
Today it’s Russia’s Putin—“Vlad”.
He’s not just bad—he’s very bad.
The senseless, indiscriminate slaughter
Has led to lack of food and water.
Women, children, Christians, Jews;
Every day it’s in the news.
He is what he is, and that’s that.
Vladmir Putin’s a piece of scat.
I. Hitler
His pretext was to save the Czechs,
The German-speakers among the Poles.
Western leaders gave him heck,
But Hitler had ambitious goals.
He sensed the weakness of the West,
And cursed the Treaty of Versailles;
Took his chances, beat his chest,
And gave the West a big black eye.
He dared to dream the dream of old,
The glories of a past empire;
One by one he watched them fold,
As Western cities blazed with fire.
II. Putin
He fancies himself a czar like Peter the Great,
A man of destiny and greater fate.
So when he heard that Ukraine might join NATO,
It went against his fundamental credo.
He focused on the Russians in Luhansk,
And then decided it was worth the risk
Because of what he saw as an affinity,
Historical connection, and consanguinity.
To hell with the Accord of Budapest.
I’ll take not just the east but all the rest!
While Western thinkers thought—a small incursion;
At least, that was the stated White House version;
Putin’s forces massed along the border
And threatened to destroy the world order.
And just like Hitler, now he bombs the people,
From Kherson to Lviv to Mariupol.
To put an end to war they had a summit in Turkey,
Attended by those seeking peace and prosperity.
They tried to broker a deal to end the pain
Of bombs and bloodshed in the Ukraine.
Understandably Putin could not attend
But he tasked his envoys not to return
Until they learned how President Erdogan does,
What he, President Putin can’t,
Get away with it so much that is,
All with a sleight of hand.
I agree.
Two Wishes
My mind is addled
My knees are knocked
My sensible statements
Go off half-cocked
I wish that I could
Change my brain
I wish the Russians
Weren’t in Ukraine
Eight years ago
Nigel knew
The villain was
The damned EU.
https://thewashingtonstandard.com/watch-nigel-farage-destroy-the-entire-ukraine-narrative-in-under-3-minutes-8-years-ago-video/
Farage, I think, is still around,
he isn’t buried in the ground
like journalists opposing Vlad,
all poisoned or shot in the head,
or in a gulag doing time,
in a cold Siberian clime.
Hunter, too, is still around,
he isn’t buried in the ground
like journalists opposing Vlad.
Vlad Zelensky’s sent a scad
of freedom lovers straight to jail,
May all dictators go to hell.
The outrage is clear, on both sides;
But honestly who would have thought
That if you rattle the cage of a proud,
Prickly bear he would wake up and roar.
That to take Ukraine into NATO, Putin
Would think it disrespectful and fatal
For his nation, was well understood.
It did look like goading, to Putin of course,
As he has always been vocal in disputing
Ukraine’s democratic right to wave
The flag of NATO by his front door.
Sadly he doesn’t see the alliance as
Peaceful, or one that adheres to reason,
Or one that does not go to war unless
It is to topple tyrants, bring down titans,
Or to eliminate weapons of mass
Destruction and win hearts and minds,
Through war. What’s more the braggart
Doesn’t believe all thirty members of
The alliance are all democratic, philanthropic
Guardians of peace. After all, in his view,
Some in Nato have got away with genocide,
Invading and annexing without a single
Sanction. So now the angry, misguided
Russki has really become fractious, for he is
A despot, so democracy means hypocrisy
To him, despite clear and fact checked
Evidence to the contrary.
The upside of this though, for every cloud
Has a silver lining, is that now a certain
Man in London is grinning his customary,
Cheshire Cat grin, for Putin now wears
The crown, of war – mongering clown and
Our man in London is breathing a sigh
Of relief.
But that’s how it is, all’s fair
In love and war, old sport; whoever said that
We gave them the rope so they might hang
Themselves, is seriously misguided. We are not
To blame for the Ukraine, we’ve even sent them
Tanks, I mean, tons of help for heavens sake.
The Two Bad Vlads
(Yes, Russia and Ukraine are BOTH dictatorships, despite what you’ve heard.)
Putin is an ass, it’s plain to see.
Ukraine IS a fake democracy.
Zelensky, though, is tight with Hunter’s dad,
They’re in the Bio Weapons Business – BAD.
So Putin’s got Xi in his dirty pocket.
Zelensky’s got the West and all our rockets!
Let’s send more weapons, tanks and troops, WHOOOPIE!!
Yessiree! Let’s set off World War III.
E.U. sells ARMS, just like the USA.
Too bad, there will be no one left to pay.
Right Mike, liftin’ up the tarpaulin on somethin’ appalin’.
Your words remind me of Arlo Guthrie’s song
” And it’s one, two. three,
What’re we fightin’ for?
Don’ ask me, A don’t give a damn,
Next stop is Viet Nam.
And it’s five six, seven,
Open those pearly gates,
Ain’t got time t’ wonder why,
WHOOOPIE!! We’re all gonna die!!”
Yeah, Damian… I can remember hearing that one on the radio.
Zelenskyy on the Nazi Azov Battalion: “They are what they are. They were defending our country … They are component of the Ukrainian military.”
Hmmmm… should we REALLY be sending weapons to these Nazis????
Greeting Card Lyric: Old Russian Soldier
An old Russian soldier, blistered and grizzled,
Gazed at his foe as the war rain drizzled,
And wondered what hit him, to his surprise,
And wondered what flashed, before his eyes,
And wondered in vain, as his old life fizzled.
Greeting Card Lyric: My Major Son
When you were at Uni,
My wee bony boy,
Your life was much simpler,
No troops to deploy,
No buttons or bombs,
No targets to smash,
No homes to avoid,
No dead men to stash.
O my sweet boy,
How life was more sure,
No enemy to kill,
No crack attack corps,
No flak-fire reprisal,
No reactive show,
More chance of survival,
You could have said ‘No’.
What is happening to America’s reputation in the world because of Biden’s bioweapon labs and other financial interests in Ukraine? Interesting article.
https://welovetrump.com/2022/04/06/watch-indian-anchor-goes-off-cites-u-s-bioweapon-labs-in-ukraine-and-biden-business-deals/
At a Train Station in the City
by Radice Lebewsu
“FOR THE CHILDREN”
—on a Russian rocket missile
The bodies wait to exit this war’s crematorium,
but these will not be leaving from that auditorium.
They lie upon the ground below no Tower of the Stork,
like petals fallen from a dead, black bough in Kramatorsk.
If one goes higher, one can see the Sun about to set,
Kazennyi Torets River en route to the long Donets,
and if one goes yet even higher, maybe one can see
a thousand miles away…such fine and lovely scenery.
But here they’re getting ready for the coming Russian troops,
the onslaught of the innocents continues forth, forsooth.
I recently returned to my home in the US after helping my step daughter and children along with her sister in law and child cross into Poland from Ukraine.
I ultimately got them settled with help from a friend, in Switzerland.
My families are from Sumy, to the East of Ukraine.
During my flights home, I wrote the three short poems. I’m sure they may have some technical issues, but I thought they may be worthy of sharing. Here is one of the poems:
Relief from the Catastrophe
I saw a lot
But I really saw nothing
I felt a lot
But I really felt nothing
Consider my home, your home
No longer
The sound of thunder
The flash of lightening
Now we must flee
We live our lives
We fight our daily battles
But darkness consumes the fragile peace
Thunder and lightening
From men who would be gods
And so the journey begins
To uncertainty, perhaps hope
For our children
For each other
The obligation overwhelms us
I saw a woman
Clothes somehow reflecting her tiredness
She had no shoes
Her feet were swollen
So she continued, obliged to hope
Why must we feel this?
It is not our catastrophe
We are distant
We are safe
But we are them, so we must feel
To touch a hand
To feel a smile
This is the gift
They can receive
Relief, from the catastrophe
So brave, so proud
They are more than us
They are who we can be
We are in darkness
But they bring us light
Thank you, Dominic, for these reflections from direct experience of family trauma, with their glimmering hope,
Devil’s strengths
Bathing in the blood every 4 years for Putin is a great holiday,
then he starts enslaving people,
destroy houses and simply runaway,
and it doesn’t matter if today is Monday or Sunday,
from missiles, You do not hide in the subway.
Black grace cherishes devilish selfishness,
nothing will stop his aggressiveness,
an only force acts against force,
my mission to find and destroy an evil source.
Greeting Card Lyric: Soldier Boy
A splattered soldier on the edge of camp,
camouflaged in worry, dust, and damp.
He runs up blowup tanks like boarding ramps,
to where an outline of his unit cramps.
A city camp of brazen brick, charred wood,
and clothes all greasy green, with burns and blood.
He hopes there will be respite in this crash
of walls and soldier bone and shell-shot ash.
His heavy helmet like a flowerpot
of lumped ceramic plonked on hair root rot.
His mouth is grinding teeth and army grit,
dry except for slugs of phlegm and spit.
He’s been living on adrenaline.
It’s kept him going with a will to win,
and lust for arms of Russian ration tins,
and leaps towards where victory begins.
A Rust-Covered Sword
_I_
You may assail me with your Kazak blade
Then, in a single moment, I am gone;
In the darkness of the daylight I go,
My heart beats its last and I am no more
And you praise your combat skill and prowess
(Your smile is a wry smile, a soldier’s smile)
But my tears form raindrops before I die
That rise to heaven where they are welcomed
And rain lasts forever (and one day too)
Then, the sword shall be rusted and futile.
_II_
Yet, my pen is of gold, tarnishing not,
And it strikes at your soul and speaks the truth
For, its words will live for two thousand years
(As the words of Jesus are heard today)
So, you seize my pencil to snap in two
Though, I hone both halves to write with each hand:
Now, your tears pointlessly fall to the ground
Where, there, they dry and are lost for all time.
A fresh drop of rain will wash them away,
I know it will come – the raindrop is me.
NIGHTMARE OF THE EASTERN WIND
Prologue
In the end, the bitter end, he who orders
the death and destruction of another nation
shall, himself, sleep the sleep of the vanquished.
I
Dead mouths of many dreams that sing and sigh
And call out feebly in the midst of night
Calling, fearsome as their bleak wanton cry
And frighting, as the unthinkable fright
Until the dark of their plight passes by.
II
For, cold are the eyes that slumber in fear
And cold is the heart of the soul that sleeps
And sour is the taste of the sleeper’s tear
And dire are the many secrets he keeps
For, wild is the scream that seeps in his ear.
III
The ruler of tracts o’er the eastern lands
Where red is the sky and black are the days
And burned are the souls the ruler commands
As flaming night comes and flaming night stays
So, then a nation betrays at his hands.
IV
Nothing is priceless or free of its cost
And value is learned when payment is due
For, battles are won though, wars can be lost,
(Battles are many yet, victories few)
And dead mouths sound as a new dream is tossed.
Epilogue
Sleep heavy and sleep long as you are,
at last, held to account for your sins.
Payment shall be heavy and long
and shall last for eternity.
The leader of the Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Kirill, has never denounced the actions of Vladimir Putin. In fact, he is at the core of his ambitions. Do God and killing and the agenda of a dictator all go together? For me, it simply doesn’t add up, so I wrote this poem about it.
God’s Dictator
‘A just and holy war.’ But war for what?
To kill…to take what others have got?
To do God’s bidding at any length…
to invoke his might and strength?
To bomb everything, every house and steeple,
and never see that God is for all people.