Ukraine (Remove filter)
Draft Dodger
Are we allowed to be afraid?
Is it compulsory to fight?
Many would choose to be elsewhere
When faced with a foe and its might.
Are we a traitor if we leave,
Or a patriot if we stay?
It is no shame to show contempt
For warfare, and to keep away.
And ‘pacifist’, that grubby word
That hardly dares to speak its name?
Why should we join the ranks of hate
Or pl...
Monday 29th April 2024 8:24 am
Still Life with Massacre
It’s clever how they’ve set this up:
A bowl of fruit,
A jar,
A china dog,
An iron bar (an iron bar?)
Behind – some crumpled remains,
The stench of rotting heaps
Of defenceless women and men.
Still, no one can see or smell this,
So that’s all right then.
Wednesday 24th April 2024 5:48 pm
Guess Who?
He won’t give a penny to help Ukraine;
He won’t lift a finger or part with change.
He wants his America ‘great again’
And thinks that such places are foreign and strange.
He won’t give a penny to help Ukraine;
He prefers to do favours for his mates:
Like jailbirds whose crimes are far from mundane,
And heads of authoritarian states.
He won’t give a penny to help U...
Monday 8th April 2024 7:29 am
Words from Bucha (April 2024)
Two years ago, we had no words,
Because words seemed superfluous.
Branded upon our consciousness,
All we needed was the image:
Each scorched mark would remind us
Of newly discovered horror.
But, in the end, the words returned;
Our memories demanded them.
A less reliable record,
Yet devastating for all that:
Shifting, changing, containing tears
As well as anger. Tha...
Tuesday 2nd April 2024 8:02 am
Odesa: 21 dead
They have made a mess of the house next door;
Mum, Dad, two kids and a cat are no more.
Can someone explain what they do this for?
Who knows? They just don’t like us, I suppose.
In years gone by, it was never like this;
We greeted, with a handshake or a kiss,
Our nearby friends. How has it gone amiss?
Who knows? They just don’t like us, I suppose.
It looks as thou...
Tuesday 19th March 2024 7:22 pm
Two Years On - Poems on the War in Ukraine
As you may have seen on the News and Features page, I have compiled a selection of fifty poems to mark the second anniversary of Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Some of these poems will be familiar to regular contributors, but a number have not yet featured on the WOL blog.
This is a private print and not available for general sale, but I would be pleased to send a free PDF copy by e-mail to anyb...
Thursday 22nd February 2024 5:08 pm
Two Years On
Time, or what passes for time,
Is a culprit, most unkind,
Stealing what we find,
Emptying our mind.
Time should be the music
Which everybody plays,
Adding to our days
In unexpected ways.
But time is made of windows,
Shattered one by one in hate,
A commentary upon this state,
Where rescue parties come too late.
Time is the gun, time is the shell,
...Tuesday 20th February 2024 6:58 pm
Time Passes
‘Time passes,’ said the man at our table.
‘People want something new.’ I guess he’s right.
It's the prevailing theory round here.
‘The same old faces,’ opined another;
‘You know, Zelensky. Always wants money.’
And ‘here’ is anywhere, maybe everywhere.
Time passes. All of us know that feeling:
You turn a new page in a calendar
Or put away Christmas decorations.
At cricket...
Friday 16th February 2024 5:41 pm
Bad News
A morning to freeze the spirits.
As they shiver in hollowed times,
Workers stamp and spit used breath.
At the corner I see two men:
Their eyes wet from today’s bad news.
‘You can always tell,’ says my guide;
'They both had sons where it happened.'
I try to do an interview:
Get short shrift. Understandably.
As we leave, one of them calls out:
‘Poetry is dead. Art is dead...
Thursday 8th February 2024 8:17 am
Queues
We queued at the supermarket;
I saw that everyone was dead.
And yet they were still standing.
Out of defiance? Contempt?
Perhaps just out of habit.
We queued at the bakery,
And in the rows of cakes
We saw the faces of the fallen:
Unmoved, at last at peace.
We queued at the bus stop.
A passer-by called out to us
And we called back,
But no one was alive
...Saturday 3rd February 2024 8:48 am
Musée des Beaux Arts (January 2024)
The war’s cold exclusion has stripped out love.
Two years on, I stroll among the Bruegels;
The pictures dazzle in their joyless way,
Reflecting life’s treadmill of chores, horrors,
Its accommodations and its intrigues,
Its little stratagems for making do,
Not forgetting massacres and revenge.
I’ve read about the gas used at the front
To flush out choking soldiers marked for...
Wednesday 24th January 2024 6:59 am
Tunnel
You can spot the signs:
They talk of ‘hard-earned cash’,
And ‘putting our people first.’
We know what’s coming next:
‘Yes, the invasion was wrong,
But do we really….?’
Or, ‘why can’t they get together
And sort the whole thing out?’
Fatuous bewilderment
Is hardly an excuse.
It is so damned easy to say:
‘We expected some light
At the end of the tunnel’
When you...
Sunday 14th January 2024 8:07 am
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