Dying in Ukraine
They’re dying every minute in Ukraine.
They die up at the front and in the towns,
Cheered on by generals and circus clowns,
Who push the envelope to entertain
With their own brand of tragedy and pain.
They’re dying every minute in Ukraine.
Lives may be swapped for twenty feet of land,
Transactions nobody can understand,
Fought out in summer heat or pouring rain.
It happened once; it’s happening again.
They’re dying every minute in Ukraine.
Limp bodies dangle from the burning blocks,
While top brass busily turn back the clocks.
Grim relatives won’t grumble or complain,
When told their loss is everybody’s gain.
They’re dying every minute in Ukraine.
They’re lying, buried pointlessly beneath
A shallow pretext, lying through its teeth.
The rich stay clear. The poor, who still remain,
Send postcards to remind us of those slain.
Stephen Gospage
Mon 11th Jul 2022 07:46
Thanks so much for your kind comments, Holden, John and Candice. This time I tried to write something with rhythm and rhyme to illustrate the horrible situation. I am pleased you enjoyed it, in spite of the awful context.
And my thanks to Nigel, Frederick, Steve, KJ, Julie, Stephen and K Lynn for liking this.