Ukraine Poems
These are poems for Ukraine and Ukrainians.
We Are Here
by Michael R. Burch
“We are here.” – Volodymyr Zelensky
We are here. Were are here.
And we won’t disappear.
We are here. We are here. We are here.
We are here. Have no fear,
our position is clear.
We are here. We are here. We are here.
And yet we need help.
Will earth’s
...
Continue reading...
Categories:
kiev, butterfly, child, children, conflict,
Form: Rhyme
The World Is Watching
The world is watching with bated breath,
while an unforsaken slaughter takes place
A man with no soul, an angel of death
There is no escape from this labyrinth,
only terror he brings to his own race
The world is watching with bated breath
With rage, pent-up frustration, and faith
Good men do their part, fighting to replace,
a man with no
...
Continue reading...
Categories:
kiev, analogy, anger, angst, corruption,
Form: Villanelle
Kiev
Kiev in the shadow of early spring
Winds off the lake lands and
Reinvented again...
Something of a new dream, new
And improved like magic with
The waves of a hand just like
Tribal spirits breathing the
Breathe of new life...
I am now redeemed...
Waling the river’s edge and
Feeling love for the first time
In my life...
My heart is at peace with it's
Self-tonight...
Kiev in
...
Continue reading...
Categories:
kiev, dream, feelings, peace,
Form: Free verse
City of Kiev
The world is alit
City of Kiev it starts with you
burning for your right to freedom
of assembly and of humanity.
Crumbling from strong arm
tactics and corruption
Police roll down the street
beating the young, old, and weak.
Wannabe Russian Dictator that is
your President Yanukovych.
Viktor, resign and run to your Russian master!
FSB guide the Police
...
Continue reading...
Categories:
kiev, change, corruption, history, inspirational,
Form: Free verse
39 Lomonossov St., Kiev 252101, Ukraine
A horde of weary eyes
at the false fountain of youth
in demo against
the fading of the majestic night;
their hushed voice vibrates against
my seat, as I enjoy the skyline
while the silver moon, secretly
sips my ice-cold compote.
That strange looks
somehow touch
my own sadness, humming
with the cold breeze of gentle wind
and the yelling of sweet Babushka;
I
...
Continue reading...
Categories:
kiev, life, nostalgia, people, places,
Form: Narrative