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 our second one. Poets are still actively submitting on this topic, so here is your chance again to share your poetry. 




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10 Responses

  1. Mike Bryant

    Doing the Right Thing

    Ukraine is a distraction and a scam.
    The deep state has a very bloody hand.
    Democracy? They do not give a damn.
    They cheat and prosper just because they can.

    They’re making loads on ammo and on arms.
    Every politician’s a patrician.
    They’re cleaning up on Ukraine bio farms
    Forget the children and vaccine attrition.

    As long as they can suck the people dry,
    They’re killing, smiling, riding mighty high.

    • Damian Robin

      Thanks, Mike, for this bite back at the backroom cigar smokers.

      I think that these too are ‘a distraction and a scam’ – ( a wholloping first line, by the way).
      I look at them as willing gainers doing the deeds of demons.
      They are ignorant of any perspective and so are bought off by the miasma of gain and the elation and elevation they feel when ‘killing, smiling, riding mighty high’.

      Good that you lift the lid.

  2. Mary Helen Roper


    Barefoot with no worries
    I step in the marshy sand
    Across fields of flowers
    To green warm grass I stand.

    The ground starts to tremble,
    to shake and to groan.
    Is this an earthquake to remember,
    or is something more sinister wrong?

    Barefoot I start running
    away from the trembling ground
    away from the toxic smoke
    Without looking round.

    They said it wouldn’t happen,
    that we would all get along.
    We speak the same language,
    sometimes sing the same song.

    Because of Putin’s madness,
    we are caught in a war unwanted.
    This war will bring terrible sadness,
    startling the free world undaunted.

    Barefoot with more fear,
    I can’t run and hide.
    Saving all who are near,
    I can help turn the tide.

    Mary Helen Roper
    May 28, 2022

  3. Damian Robin

    Ukraine, May 2022

    My eyes are dry. I cannot cry,
    I hear the pregnant planes drop by
    their dust and bombs. Uneaten crumbs
    of homes show faces without gums
    and down the road, in helmet skulls,
    hard men load tubes from truck-load-fulls.
    Then, drubbing thumps, screeched mortar shells
    roll in the future’s burial bells.
    Then, wind takes up and bears the grit
    of bits of people hit and split,
    of streets disabled, car-dead, charred,
    civilisation’s collapsed facade.

    Some move off to stay alive,
    they’ll know their end when they arrive.
    They had safe homes, now they have none,
    their rooms spread out by shell and bomb.
    They’re forced to roam passed battered things
    beneath death-planes and scared birds’ wings.
    On damaged streets where scraped hope lies,
    their hearts are lifted in surprise —
    some special people smile unbowed —
    not fearless, heroes, nor a crowd —
    just confident to keep their mind
    to being true, forbearing, kind.

    They hand to strangers that they meet
    isolated on the street —
    Falun flowers from Taiwan
    with deep belief beyond the span
    of madness or tranquility.
    They feel that here’s where they should be
    while past and present crash as one
    to something new to carry on.
    They know that gods have partial views
    and, like humans, have to choose
    on narrow paths of myriad ways
    in seeming route-less ends of days.

    N O T E
    please view posts about Falun Gong practitioners in Ukraine

  4. Evan Mantyk

    Prince Putin wield’s royalty’s rod
    And an orb that means all under God;
    The sickle and hammer
    Have overblown glamour,
    And to a good leader seem odd.

  5. Damian Robin

    Ukraine, May 2022 ( Part II )

    But ‘end of days’ is just a phase,
    a twist through which surge endless ways,
    immersing tides of ‘wells’ and ‘goods’,
    of new beginnings’ opening buds
    where countless paths of shafts of light
    fly out of mists both clear and white
    and mountain depths of clouds new born
    float tinged with pinks of warming dawn
    revealing real at center stage
    pure power of the present age,
    divinity’s reviving storm,
    the vast Creator’s cosmic form—

    His grand tsunamis’ pearl-tipped push
    with iridescent soundscapes rush,
    repeat beyond mere whales and birds,
    each note thesaurusing like words
    forecasting sites were futures flow
    from thoughts the Maker’s glories show :
    so every being takes their course
    from this immeasurable source
    and feels the fill of all they know
    and through this single spring they grow,
    each to their ability
    to wear their principality.

    These Falun Dafa followers
    see their great Creator bears
    a Buddha shape of endless size
    invigorating seas and skies
    and all complexities of space
    that simply pour from His full face
    that gives them cues to find their fate
    and whites out every human trait
    to make good beings merge in air,
    their lives left in His judgement’s care
    so all good lifts into the light
    so all is light, as light as light.

  6. Tony Perkins

    Cautionary verses for Ukraine

    In twenty-twenty-two on twenty-four two
    Putin sent forces in order to subdue
    A democratic neighbour for a pretext untrue

    With a special operation the military was tasked
    Their unflinching co-operation Russian savagery unmasked

    Informed by the internet TRUTH one can see
    How utterly ruthless Russians can be

    Instruction intolerable destruction deplorable
    Children killed or with millions made flee

    The invasion is harming not only Ukraine
    But many dependent on its exports of grain

    Instances of inhumanity numerously befall
    And by distancing Christianity indubitably appall

  7. Damian Robin

    Greeting Card Lyric : I.D. Internal Displacement

    Again I’m thumped by this strong man.
    He’s strong but broken by a war
    that hurt elsewhere when it began
    but now the whole world feels it, raw.

    He storms at me, explodes, fists rain.
    I dash out squeezing our child’s hand
    to rush beyond the sky’s domain
    for shelter in our homeless land.

  8. Jeremiah Johnson

    So, this sonnet was inspired by the second photo in this “week in pictures” link:


    Modern Abstract

    An aerial perspective on a casualty of war,
    A mechanized one, which, understandably,
    No one will mourn, like Edgar Poe’s aristocrats
    Who met the Red Death in their barricaded halls –
    That scene recalled to mind as, with a chill,
    One notes the Death’s Head in this photograph:
    The glaring, vacant hatches which are empty
    Eye sockets; the leering, broken grin
    Formed by the blocks of gray reactive armor.
    Like something out of Dia de los Muertos,
    Only with the festive colors turning here to rust;
    The grin decaying on the right to blackened gums –
    This modern abstract on the theme of that
    Which humankind continues to perpetuate.

  9. Acolyte

    Have Hope

    Throughout the darkest hours,
    There is still light to be found,
    Even if you are alone and scared,
    Trapped in this conflict.

    I send not a poem of conflict,
    But one of peace and tranquility,
    Find the strength to see through this,
    And share this strength with others.

    Even in the midst of rubble,
    A foundation can be seen,
    Find your foundation,
    And you will find hope.


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