The Beastly Man of War

 

The Beastly Man of War

Yet another, rural town, in east Ukraine, now in sadness dwells

The civilians, have really suffered, and been subjected, to living hell

The raging fires, have finally passed, the marauding Orcs, have left,

Leaving haunting memories, in their wake, and the town bereft.

It is a miserable place, with smouldering piles, of unsightly rubble,

With unpleasant signs, and offensive smells, of the restless struggle.

Many people gone, poor tortured souls, have left their pain behind,

No more torment, as they lie face down, bound, where they died.

Lots lying, in unmarked graves, before the Orcs, made their retreat,

Leaving burnt-out tanks, and armoured trucks, blocking the streets.

Where homes, once proudly stood, amidst the joy, that filled the air,

Now wisps, of acrid smoke, like homeless ghosts, silently wafting there.

A wall defiantly stands, with a picture of her, hanging on a skew,

The mother standing by, sadly mourning, the lovely girl she knew.

The sky is dark, the birds have vanished, with their welcome song,

Instead, the siren calls again, it loudly cries, for all, to move along.

Warning the survivors, of incoming missiles, and imminent trouble,

Past the bodies, of their loved ones, still lying beneath, piles of rubble.

Past the derelict schools, hospitals, and playgrounds, all blown apart,

As the fearful people, retreat again, carrying their burdened hearts.

Into the dark underground cellars, hopefully well out of harm’s way,

Where at night, they wonder why, he stole their dreams away?

Symbol of Peace

 

Symbol of Peace

Giant daisy, with strong stems, rising above the ground,

Standing tall, with bright yellow petals, delicately crowned.

Oh Helianthus! How we look forward, to seeing you again,

Each summer, splendid yellow, glorious colour, of Ukraine.

Thriving, as consecutive generations, have done so before,

For hundreds of years, budding, and blooming once more.

Oh, majestic, vibrant sunflower, warm colour of dreams,

With your glorious golden coronet, set in colourful scenes.

Gracing gardens, the whole world over, a spectacular show,

And fields of Ukraine, where in great abundance, you grow.

Each morning, head bowed to the east, patiently waiting,

With us, our eyes, fixed on the horizon, keenly anticipating.

While nature, welcomes the majestic sun, burning so bright,

Bringing hope, to all of the world, so dependent on light.

All waking to the radiant sun, sunflower heads outreaching,

Then attentively locked, on the sun’s rays, they are seeking.

Taking the same path, every day, heads attentively turning,

While we wait, the return to Ukraine, so painfully yearning.

Yes, elegant flower, flower of peace, the flower of Ukraine,

Oh Helianthus! How we look forward, to seeing you again!

Echoes of the Saddest Song of All

 

Echoes of the Saddest Song of All

Deep in her heart, there plays, the saddest song.

As she silently laments, her lovely homeland gone,

Locked forever, within the lonely ruins, that remain,

As wars wretched song, plays over, and over, again.

Forever present, the dreadful sights, she has seen,

Abruptly woken, in ruins, and destruction dreamed.

Lost in the rubble, amidst the ashes, full of grief,

Wondering why, the worst of man, beyond belief.

And as she wipes, the salty tears, from her cheek,

Their stains, the solemn words, she cannot speak.

Saddened by the road, where in dreams returned,

To a homeland lost, the sombre place still yearned.

Only she, will ever be able, to appreciate the cost,

The pain she bears, the tragedy, the ones she lost.

Thoughts, that will forever abide, within her mind,

Where the tangled spirits, of her past, are entwined.

Ever strong, the feelings for them, burning bright,

Playing sad songs, keeping her, from sleep at night.

As their precious memories, become faded notes,

Heart still broken, for the ones, she loved the most.

Sweet Katerina, Ballerina

 

Sweet Katerina, Ballerina

Maryia, will never forget, the awful horrors, wrought on Kharkiv,

Her heart-rending account, in a bloody war, difficult to conceive.

The terror, as the unforgettable blast, took her lovely Katerina,

Bringing great sadness, to a mother, missing her little ballerina.

Everything shattered, lost, and gone, now burdened with grief,

Pining for Katerina’s return, a dreamy notion, well beyond belief.

Come back Katerina, she solemnly cries, with tears welling inside.

Struggling to understand, sorrows emotions, so difficult to hide.

Each night, as she closes, her weary eyes, into a dreamy trance

Their souls, are reunited again, as she watches Katerina’s dance,

And as the symphony, softly plays, its rich mesmerizing sound,

Katerina glides, upon swan lake, gracefully round, and round.

Floating, as in the clouds, sweet Katerina, such a beautiful sight,

Enchanting vision, upon the stage, dancing through the night.

Dreaming, that she is Queen Odette, waiting for Prince Siegfried,

To pledge his love, breaking the evil Barons spell, setting her free.

And as the bevy of swans, elegantly drift, upon the seamless lake,

Their slender forms, circling round, silently gliding, until daybreak.

Their gowns, of pure white feathers, lightly sailing, in the breeze,

Till caught, by dawns first light, filtering through, the distant trees.

Then as mother Maryia awakes, longing to see, her Katerina again,

She is reminded, once more, of her world, full of fear and pain.

The Shame We Turn Away

 

The Shame We Turn Away

With tanks and missiles, the beastly army, tightened the noose,

Drafted from, the cesspool of discontent, its Orcs, were let loose,

Onto city streets, where innocent children, laughed and played,

The awful taint, of despicable war crimes, now left them stained.

Blood heartlessly let, all is lost, lifeless forms, colour turned to grey,

Harmless citizens, brutally gunned down, left to lie, amidst the fray.

Severed limbs, left lying upon the ground, such a brutal way to die,

Civilians’ throats slashed, these ruthless acts, too ugly to describe.

Cars crushed by tanks, while in fear, the helpless victims, sat inside,

As the ruthless brutes, full of malice, engaged in acts, of genocide.

Frightened children, forced to watch, as their parents, were slain,

Left with distress, and horrific visions, little eyes, subjected to pain.

Poor lost souls, numb from shock, hiding in the ruins, that remain,

All dread the regime, that callously raped, the children of Ukraine.

Burned bodies, too charred to recognise, a terrible message, to find,

Destroyed buildings, backyards, corpses, and crime scenes, mined!

Innocent civilians, prisoners of war, in the street, bound and dead,

Lying, where they had been shot, right in the back, of their head.

Mass graves concealing, decomposed corpses, the evil acts done,

Liberators now standing by, with tearful hearts, and souls, stunned.

As the dark cloud, of cold-blooded death, prevails upon the wind,

The mountain of evidence too high, and no denial shall ever rescind.

Orcs On Steroids

 

Orcs On Steroids

Sons of Russia, guilty of theft, assault, rape, and numerous crimes,

Second chance soldiers, recruited into the ranks, to avoid prison time.

Bred by the evil army, to be brutal butchers, to slaughter, and maim,

Leaving their poor victims, lying fatally wounded, slowly dying, in pain.

An unsolicited holocaust, brought by hordes, of Orcs on steroids, let loose,

Forcefully, overpowering the vulnerable, subjecting them, to awful abuse.

Army officers, blithely standing by, sanctioning, the brutal Orcs rampage,

As the chain of command, right to the top, endorses the war, they wage.

Unwilling, to stop, the mechanical storm, wrought by their mindless thugs,

Heartless beasts, fuelled by a cocktail, of performance enhancing drugs.

Innocent young girls, being dragged out of class, someone’s dear daughter,

Enduring the terrors, of being repeatedly raped, then inhumane slaughter.

Civilians sliced, with sharp knives, bound, and tormented, at the point of a gun,

Succumbing, to persistent torture, till the cut-throat acts, are finally done.

We, the people of the world, recoil, when accounts of the brutality are told,

The heinous deeds, leaving our hearts wrenched, dumbfounded, and cold.

We all unite as one, against the obscene perpetrators, of these terrible acts,

Crimes against humanity, in the despicable mountain, of indisputable facts.

Lost in Thought

 

Lost in Thought

Expressions aghast, still suffering, the unutterable nightmare,

Eyes betwixt, caught in between, firmly fixed, in vacant stare.

Pilgrims standing, in long border ques, weary refugees of war,

Hopelessly, trying to grasp the answers, they are searching for.

Shell shocked women, and children, waiting, lost in thought,

United in speechless silence, their minds, and souls distraught.

In silent reflection, haunting images, held within the empty gaze,

Struggling to comprehend, the malice lurking, within the haze.

Strong memories, of recent acts witnessed; terrible sights seen,

The impacts, of destruction wrought, within wars smoky screen.

Too soon, for them to purge, the terrifying screaming sounds,

Warning, of hypersonic missiles, their onslaughts inbound.

Bearing down on them, caught within, the burden of death,

And terrible bombs, sucking the oxygen, from their breath.

Then the perilous journey, of escape, from their city torn,

Fleeing the devastation, where the sirens, screamed in scorn.

Under heavy fire, down the treacherous corridor, in haste,

Leaving, their shattered homes, now lying, within the waste.

Evading watchful eyes, of the invading force, in fear of death,

Pausing behind rubble piles, and debris, to catch their breath.

Increasing the gap, between the war-torn area, left behind,

Daring not to cross any fields, fearsome they could be mined.

Weary young mothers, cradling hungry babies, in their arms,

As they passed on by, the great expanse, of empty farms.

Amidst anxious evacuees, drifting along, in the despondent tide,

Ever hopeful, that they would be able, to hitch a passing ride.

Pressing on, with badly blistered feet, with rest having to wait,

Driven by urgency, and terrifying thoughts, that wouldn’t abate.

Now patiently waiting in line, slowly advancing, lost in the crowd

Indebted to the help they receive, grateful hearts, humbly bowed

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (April 2022)