The Children Wept Inside

 

The Children Wept Inside

Oh, the dreadful agony, like that of inconsolable grief, in frightful sorrow felt,

When lives are suddenly taken away, by the wretched hand, that fate has delt.

Living freedoms lovely dreams, then suddenly, an evil power, changes the route,

Leaving mothers in a state of flux, with the painful torment, of constant doubt.

Hearts crying out, eyes wrung dry, locked behind barricades, in the awful chaos,

Forcefully caged, as the torture of separation grew into, the heartache of loss.

Petrified parents begging, imploring, arguing, pleading for their infants return,

Distraught mothers, feeling powerless, not knowing what to do, full of concern.

The poor women anxiously wondering if, they will ever see their children again,

Fearing the worst for their precious infants, so vulnerable within the evil feign.

Emotions, too difficult to describe, inherent pain, with hopeless desolation left,

Like a mordant parasite, gnawing at their wits, ridden in awful sadness bereft.

 

But, what the harmless children, the vulnerable victims, of these despicable crimes,

Afflicted with traumatic stress, that keeps repeating, overwhelming their minds.

Tiny children, with eyes full of fear, who anxiously watched their mothers begging,

Little arms reaching out, terrified toddlers screaming, collective hysteria spreading.

Defenceless little children roughly taken; poor petrified kids, helpless innocent prey.

Sorted and separated, like stock being drafted, bundled into buses, and stolen away,

Their precious tears shed, at the unpleasant parting, strange feelings fixed inside,

Sobbing uncontrollably, choking back the streams of tears, as they cried, and cried.

Frightened little faces, stuck to bus windows, the infants too young to know why,

Watching the awful visions, of their mothers being pushed back, making them cry.

Awful Orc soldiers fuelling fearsome thoughts, what would happen to their mums?

The brutal beasts, terrorizing vulnerable women, yelling orders, pointing their guns.

 

Kids, the spoils of war crimes, off to Orc camps to be recalibrated, and retrained,

Brainwashed in the wicked Orcish ways, to live in the land, tarnished and stained.

Mother tongue expunged, now constantly watched, by the wicked all-seeing eye,

In the state of unknowing, the land of propaganda and lies, friend, foe, or spy?

The children’s culture and past deleted, in re-education camps, new names given,

False lives made, taught to mistrust and hate, their maternal country now riven.

Older children, brothers and sisters separated, told that their parents are dead,

Made to feel like heartbroken orphans, placed in strange homes, and poorly fed.

Fostered and adopted, subjected to threats and abuse, by their proxy handlers,

Living in cold barracks and dorms, time strictly regulated, by surrogate soldiers.

On foreign soil, in foreign hands, a new set of rules, living their lives, out of skew,

Resonant memories, of their beloved mothers unspoken, another forbidden taboo.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (August 2023)

 

On Hallowed Ground

Come walk with me, softly treading, on hallowed ground, in solemn prayer,

To the valour won, by the great heroes of Ukraine, who distinguished there.

Let us honour, the lost soldiers’ souls, in the greatest sacrifice they made,

Fighting in thick forests, and farmers’ fields, for the price of freedom paid.

Do you feel the dreadful aura of war, the eery wind, set upon your back?

Can you hear pain, still resounding, from the heartbroken widows in black?

The agonizing sounds, still rising above the fields, badly wrought in battle,

Visions of soldiers, strewn about the land, gravely battered, and bedraggled.

Do you feel the fear, that plagued their minds, before they perished there,

The words fervently uttered, in desperate supplication, in each final prayer?

Can you smell the awful inferno, the fires from hell, the flesh that burned,

The terrible stench, the sons, the fathers, and uncles, who never returned?

And the daughters, and their mothers, who enlisted in the territorial force,

Numbering in the tens of thousands, determined to free, the land of Orcs,

Is your heart saddened, sensing the abysmal loss, feeling the nations weight,

The yoke of grief, in painful cemeteries, scarring the land, the reckless waste?

Do you sense, the duty bound, by soldiers borne, before their lives were lost,

Reminding you, of the selfless act, set in time, of the Son, who bore the cross.

Now take a knee, on the hallowed ground, where the soldier’s blood was bled,

The precious lives unlived, the dreams undreamt, the humble words unsaid.

Remember them, with head at tilt, the thought of those, who passed there,

Unite in freedoms spirit won, forever indebted, bow down in thankful prayer.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Aug 2023)

Wicked Wolves in Sheep Skin

 

Wicked Wolves in Sheep Skin

Behind their elaborate robes, embroidered cloth, mistruths furtively hidden,

A litany of lies cultivated, within their fallacious world, of truth overwritten.

Priests and their loyal deacons, peddling hate, war, and unorthodox politics,

Leading their peasant flock, on an evil crusade, with holy water and crucifix.

Clerics with their twisted minds, worshiping idols of destruction, and death,

Blessing soldiers, tanks, rockets, and guns, that spread hatreds deadly breath.

Wildly obsessed with deception, and revenge, condoning unforgiving crimes,

Urging the bloodthirsty orc army, to duplicate the brutal acts, of olden times.

With calls to “burn the pagans!” as their reign of terror festers, and spreads,

Their rockets raping the land, while abomination manifests within their heads.

Waging the awful crusade, upon decent people, innocent children of Ukraine,

Executed in the name of God, bringing eternal misery, heartache, and pain.

Truth and freedom inverted, in blasphemy of God’s word, by Patriarch Kirill,

His loyal servants violating, the sacred commandment of: “Thou shalt not kill!”

With testament of their brutal crimes, echoing on earth, and in heaven above,

His soulless form, inconsiderate to, the almighty power, of patience and love.

Casting aside kindness, in his evil crusade, against freedom of choice, and truth,

Enslaving the world, in the yoke of darkness, destroying the fountain of youth.

His hard-headed clerics, still cloak-and-dagger, stuck in the rut, of days gone by,

Bred in the covert art, of clandestine missions, and surveillance, still active spies.

When will the people realize, that there is no purity in his water, nor his word,

That he has broken faith with God, that his irreverence continues undeterred!

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (August 2023)

The Innocent and Righteous Slay Thou Not!

 

The Innocent and Righteous Slay Thou Not!

Keep Gods little ones safe and sound, every colour n every creed,

To live in the unspoilt age, of innocence, the blessings of his seed.

Keep the innocent children, far from deception, and blatant lies,

The malicious men, and heartless politicians, the proxies in disguise.

From worldly ways, and the terror, that evil men hath brought,

The misinformation, and half-truths, within the masses taught.

By callous creatures, who order wars, with no account of cost,

Who render kids to sacrificial lambs, from age of innocence lost.

The pointless demolition, of children’s hospitals, reduced to hell,

And blatant bombing, of dwellings, where innocent infants’ dwell.

Rack and ruin, sanctioned by tyrants, to the warlord’s domain,

Wrought, in the blasphemy, of the word, by the brutally insane.

Invaders, going against the grain, leaving humanity high and dry,

Dark demons, who deal in the lore of death, their mad souls awry.

The thieves, who in the dark of night, steal little hearts and souls,

Vile beasts from the motherland, all the heartless orcs, and trolls.

Beware of the ones in robes, the awful cult, that would condemn,

As they call, for the blood of innocent people, women, and men.

With wicked thought, and false witness borne, in sermons of death,

Their mindless imperial tirade, denying pure life’s claim to breath.

Their sermons inanely sucking, the essence of purity, and love away,

Tainting the minds, to soulless forms, with their empty words prayed.

Lo the sacred word, will not justify the wicked, the evil to their end,

Each, and every step they take, into the fires of hell, they descend.

Keep Gods innocent children from evil, their freedom guaranteed,

To live, in the unspoilt age, of innocence, to flourish from the seed.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (August 2023)

Her Sentinel Solemnly Kept

 

Her Sentinel Solemnly Kept

Each day the mother in black, stands there, in eternal sorrow fraught,

In the field of misery, from the crack of dawn, till the day is wrought.

Standing over the infant graves, in all weather, rugged and forlorn,

Keeping a constant visual, over each misfortunate child, she mourns.

Her heart gouging at the ground, her head bent over, lost in despair,

Repeating her sad lament, crying into the ground, her solemn prayers.

Caught in the haze, the cloud of perpetual grief, the awful place of pain,

Suspended in the never-ending flow, each day, crying down every name.

Solemnly she empties her heart, over and over, the flood never runs dry,

Her soul consumed in emptiness, as tears are wrenched, from her eyes.

The weight that wears down, upon her mind, an unwelcome marathon,

Time has no limits; the eternal flames of discontent, burning brightly on.

Each fresh grave, yet another young life lost, another poor family torn,

Another beloved child wasted, victim of war, another lost soul to mourn.

Damn the evil ones, who would cover the earth, in other people’s blood,

The heartless monsters, who ruthlessly suck the sap, from the tender bud.

The generals who call the shots, in their tin medals, with a glint of gold,

Far from the trenches, and no-mans-land, the poor souls they have sold.

They have no idea of misery, the anguish, and despair, that they cause,

The agony, and distress, the burden of grief, triggered by wicked wars.

Blind to the awful crimes, that they commit, the toddlers that they take,

The mindless waste of decent lives, the innocent victims, in their wake.

The vacuum death leaves behind, the burning pain, brought by sorrow,

All the potential, that they have stolen away, time without tomorrow.

While the mother of misery, remains powerless, under the morbid spell,

Unable to lift the veil of death, upon the graves, where the children dwell.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (July 2023)

Victoria Amelina

 

Victoria Amelina

Our Victoria, delightful nightingale of Kyiv! Your spirit has in mourning sprung,

In our souls, your line and verse, shall eternally dwell, in loving sadness strung.

With compassion in your heart, your strength and character, have finally flown,

Back to the woman in black, there with your sisters’ names, in the fields sown.

Gravely cried into the ground, that knows the pain of those, who have passed,

Hidden forever, behind griefs face, the sadness, that man has bravely masked.

Each fresh mound, adding to the long list of names, laid to rest, set row on row,

To face winters freezing bite, the solemn sound of the wind, and the old crow.

Who forever frightens, the birds away, standing guard, upon that patch of dirt,

For she alone knows, how each death was brought, the distress, and the hurt.

The terrible episodes that erased, the yet unwritten, chapters of young life,

The terrible crimes, that were committed, by the Orcs, and their awful strife.

Alas! Victoria Amelina, the brave heroine, we were fortunate to have known,

You spirit filled empty spaces, in our hearts, with the seeds, you have sown.

With the weight of your words, we all heard, the saddest songs, that you sung,

In mourning, Kyiv farewells, the sound of its nightingale, left in sorrow wrung!

When in spring, we hear again, the nightingale’s beautiful melodies of peace,

We will fondly remember you, as free Ukraine sings and dances in the streets.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (July 2023)

Sad Impressions To Live in Paradise Lost

 

Sad Impressions

To Live in Paradise Lost

One:

A simple wooden cross, marks the spot, a circle of bricks borders the plot.

A soul struck little boy, standing beside his mother’s grave, in their garden.

The poor little child, is beset with overwhelming sadness, and desolation,

Struggling with the grief, a new state of mind that he cannot comprehend.

Nothing will bring back what they had, the mother that he so dearly loved.

His world is broken, the loving bond destroyed, their connection detached.

Two:

A crowd has assembled to pay their last respects to a brave soldier fallen,

The cask is draped in the flag of Ukraine, an awkward silence prevails,

As a little girl rests her weight, on her father’s cask, the burden too great.

Her hand masks her face, she is clearly distraught, her soul powerless.

Her mother attempts to console the poor child, she knows the love lost,

Together, they will have to face the world, without the man they so loved.

Three:

Standing on the fresh soil, a tiny toddler kisses a photo, fixed to a cross.

The image of her beloved father, in the uniform she last saw him in.

The young man has given his all, such that his young family could be free.

In a state of flux, the child too young to understand the scale of the loss

A large portion of her tiny world has been taken away, her тато gone.

The unpleasant burden of grief she will now carry for the rest of her life.

Four:

A sudden bomb blast, another disaster, more innocent civilians struck!

Beside the gutter, twisted debris, an infant stroller has been destroyed.

On the sidewalk, within the dreadful carnage, a shocking crime scene.

A sickening sight, a tiny toddler lying inert, an awful abdominal wound.

Fresh blood is spattered everywhere, someone’s severed leg lies by her.

The violent shock of the fatal blast has ripped the innocent victims apart.

Five:

Abducted by ruthless Orcs, an innocent little girl, taken against her will.

Too young to understand, forced to submit, she did not stand a chance.

Discarded with hands bound, hidden in bush, lying half naked and dead.

Soiled, battered, and bruised, with a bloody nose, damn the evil Orcs.

Damn them to hell, damn the Russian generals who let the brutes loose.

Damn the monster with blood on his hands, he who turned a blind eye!

These innocent children number in the thousands, they did not deserve to die this way!

This war is brutal and the evil that brought it upon the nation of Ukraine will burn in hell!

There will be no forgiveness for the regime that tortured, raped, and murdered civilians!

The Orc army cannot and will not hide the truth, nor erase the past, freedom will prevail!