Long Crimea Poems
Long Crimea Poems. Below are the most popular long Crimea by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crimea poems by poem length and keyword.
Eight decades past world war two was at its last gasp.'
Parades were to folow.' Nazi Germany was beaten hollow
Like a drum..'Some scenes echo.' And make me dumb my
Mouth, silent my eyes observe the violence shaky screened
Whirrs my mind.' On the real actions of nazis and horrifc
Finds.' Humans dehumanised stacked like sides of pork
Or cords of wood.' The simple pathos alone talks..Today i hear of nazis again.' I see one was feted in Canada and
That two leigions there gained.' New lives and citezenship
Can this really be.' Then zelensky sends troops to Isreal i
See.? Meanwhile (yuroslaf hunka) the ss soldier he elevated.' anongside trudeau.' Both looking elated' clapping
Hands this in parlieament setting' well after their earlier
Meet and greet and narration.' He was a freedom fighter
Against the ussr.? I beg your pardon.' And I state I am no
Czar.' Of lineage or of lies.' And the truth?? Well thats been
Battered.' Just as eight decades later.' With Ukraine really in
Tatters.' And claims of nazi elements.? Whats with historys wheel? No matter the narrative.' Whats real is 'still real' I
Can't trust drainsteeam-media..To tell the time of day.' I conject on all their outrageous info but hey ' even should i
Be told California has gone rouge? Letting in American
Warships to attack America.?? Do you think that story could be told.? Yet when ships sit in Sevastopol i'm told
Crimea might get invaded 'and they'll soon be speaking
Russian.?? But I thought they did? Whats this all in aid of, kids?
Well it can't be the truth? I re-check on history, and the Crimean war fought in 1853.'
My one true love with eyes of sparkling blue
Our hearts as one it was our destiny
Heaven sent you for me and me for you
It would not last but end in tragedy.
War intervened I’d have to go away
To the Crimea with the light brigade
My true love I thought of every day
Our lives on hold along with plans we’d made.
The Captain said “suppress your greatest fears
Ride close ranks and do not come asunder”
The noise of hooves were ringing in my ears
Sounds they made were like a raging thunder.
A lance pierced me and off my horse I fell
Then death came down, my life I bid farewell.
Written on 7th February 2019.
The Western world will breathe easier when Kim Jong Un
starts the denuclearization of North Korea.
And the Russian dictator Vladimir Putin gives
Ukraine back its lost peninsula of Crimea.
There will be celebrations worldwide when Israel
and Palestine stop the hate and settle their dispute.
And the constant threat of war is no longer looming,
for both nations' right to exist is deemed absolute.
The world will breathe easier when Bashar al-Assad
ends his civil war and finally leaves Syria.
And the militant Islamist group Boko Haram
stops raping girls and is driven from Nigeria.
Democracy will win when President Donald Trump
is exposed and reduced to a political quirk.
And global warming's threat is taken seriously,
so the fate of our planet is not left to guesswork.
(Quatrain)
June13, 2018
How many Friends Have You Now?
How many friends have you now?
How many write you everyday
Say they are sorry and their nation will pay?
How many have apologised?
How many have realised?
How their relatives have taken part?
Shot your countryman in the heart?
Raped your women and tortured your men?
How many are distressed?
How many digress and never mention
The killing brought by their country’s intervention?
Called you a bandelaro to your face
Said that they want to extinguish your race?
How many have visited with flowers?
Cried with you for hours?
How many begged your forgiveness?
Showed their true friendship, through their stress?
How many have knocked your door?
None, as I can see
None smatree (Russian for see)
None held your hand
Begged they didn’t understand
Many apologised and relished victory in their eyes
Saw an easy win,
gloated through the Crimea sin.
Friends have borders too
These are no friends of you.
David Cox 11/06/23
Give me Greenland, make it mine,
Let me buy it just in time,
For Thanksgiving so we can
Induct these folks into our clan.
Why waste time debating ‘why’
This proposal shouldn’t fly,
Surely Denmark needs the cash
Here’s your chance if you just rush.
Putin took Crimea by force
Not a penny paid of course,
I instead will meet your price
For this island full of ice.
Think it over but think fast,
As my offer won’t long last,
Let’s get on and make this deal,
With a pen stroke this thing seal.
Since I’ve got some Nordic genes
And as a man of copious means,
I can make this work all round
With results that will astound.
We almost bought it once before,
Why not this process now re-store,
You get the green, we the land,
On me the burgers and the band.
two islands and dynamite
There are two islands in the stream, one is big
and called the new island the other is small and
called the old island, the pair is linked to a bridge.
I crossed the bond to see my girlfriend, who lived
on the old island, in a shack, all houses were shacks
the fishermen lived there in suitable poverty.
I knocked on the door that cracked, letting out
a light which was good, the steps to the house were
made off rough unfriendly stones.
Her mother opened I didn’t like her smelling of beer
she had three teeth left and spoke like a whistle.
She hated me for being a cook at a tourist hotel
work she thought was for skulkers men with soft
hands incapable to do a proper job, like fishing
mackerel for a living.
She has gone with her new boyfriend on his boat
he is a skipper, to Denmark, and with that,
she slammed the door shut.
On the news, a bridge crossing Crimea to Russia
has been blown up; when I crossed the bridge to get
to the new island, I thought of doing something
in that vein, but having no knowledge of dynamite
I let it pass.
On the twenty fourth of February in twenty twenty two
Russia invaded Ukraine and fierce fighting did ensue
Vladimir Putin it seems, wants to restore the iron curtain
And sadly he will succeed, of that it looks certain.
Tanks and missiles, the Russians used in their attack
But against Putins thugs, brave Ukrainians are fighting back
Vladimir Putin is unhinged and he Is losing his sanity
Claiming the Ukraine is a threat, to Russian security.
He's made threats to the west, if they come to Ukraines aid
Does he honestly think that western powers are afraid
Unfortunately the Ukraine is not part of the Nato alliance
So the west introduced, heavy sanctions in defiance.
Hitting Russia with severe sanctions seems like a good idea
But it failed to stop Russian aggression, when they invaded Crimea
A lot more needs to be done though before it's too late
Or the Ukrainian people will suffer, an unspeakable fate.
The Ukrainian president has sent out a rallying cry
Ukrainians are bearing arms, and are prepared to die
The death toll will rise with casualties on either side
People are running to find safety but there's no where to hide.
Putin claimed only military targets, would be in the line of fire
But civilian apartments have been hit, Putin is a liar
There has been many deaths, some badly injured too
But they will fight to the last man, it's what they will do.
Acts of bravery the Ukrainians will always remember
Like the guards on Snake Island who refused to surrender
The Russian warship fired missiles, all thirteen men died
To me that is a war crime; those responsible should be tried.
The old days are over, the Soviet Union is long dead
Why can't Vladimir Putin get that fact in his head
Invading peaceful countries is an abominable crime
He should be charged with murder and put away for a long time.
Written 25th February 2022
Sonnet: The Ruins of Balaclava
by Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, barren Crimean land, these dreary shades
of castles?once your indisputable pride?
are now where ghostly owls and lizards hide
as blackguards arm themselves for nightly raids.
Carved into marble, regal boasts were made!
Brave words on burnished armor, gilt-applied!
Now shattered splendors long since cast aside
beside the dead here also brokenly laid.
The ancient Greeks set shimmering marble here.
The Romans drove wild Mongol hordes to flight.
The Mussulman prayed eastward, day and night.
Now owls and dark-winged vultures watch and leer
as strange black banners, flapping overhead,
mark where the past piles high its nameless dead.
Adam Bernard Mickiewicz (1798-1855) is widely regarded as Poland’s greatest poet and as the national poet of Poland, Lithuania and Belarus. He was also a dramatist, essayist, publicist, translator, professor and political activist. As a principal figure in Polish Romanticism, Mickiewicz has been compared to Byron and Goethe. Keywords/Tags: Mickiewicz, Poland, Polish, Balaclava, Crimea, war, warfare, castle, castles, knight, knights, armor, Greeks, Rome, Romans, Mongols, Mussulman, Muslims, death, destruction, ruin, ruins, romantic, romanticism, sonnet, depression, sorrow, grave, violence
Putin's just started World War Three
though if anyone had thought to ask me
You could see it coming back in 2008
when he rolled over Georgia, then sat back to wait
And the world stamped and shouted
before leaving the poor Georgians to fate
When Putin's little green men invaded Crimea
six years later, you got the idea
Now part of Russia, Crimeans are glad
to travel freely to Moscow and Petrograd *
As for Ukraine, Putin's stepped up his game
invaded with tanks and missiles, fire and flame
What's next are the Baltics and probably Poland
That's when World War Three will really get rollin'
Meanwhile, China's got Taiwan in her sights
She's stripped citizens there of all civil rights
To halt the war, what will Biden and Harris do
Will sanctions save even one life ~ let alone two?
_____________________________________________
*Petrograd is the former name of what is now the city
of Stalingrad... Crimeans no longer have to bribe Russian
sentries at border crossings just to enter the country.
I sense a feel of panic in the air
As if the Ark is not quite waterproof
I wonder if we’d welcome Tony Blair
To the poor this life was rarely fair
But now it seems unreal, is it a spoof?
I sense a piece of Putin in the air
I am looking in the mirror at my hair
It looks like Boris Johnson’s but more louche
I wonder if we’d dye old Tony Blair’s
The Russian wolf is licking his rich fur
He’s happy Britain’s weakened with fake truth
I feel a sense of monsters near, oh dear.
Putin won his Trump with that strange hair
Now it’s cyber warfare on the hoof
Will he soon take Leave from Tony Blair?
The Russians in Crimea are still there
The Ukraine weeps because we did not care
I sense a feel of Russia in the air
I wonder if they’ll fragment us and tea