Everything I've touched has turned to gold,
A feeling that never gets too worn or old,
I savor every moment, every win,
With my opponents stuck in their unsightly bin.

The more they shout and flail their arms,
The more my inner soul it calms,
Their din is music to my ears,
It gives me pep; it takes off years.

My aims are clear, my skills well-honed,
As to their mob, they seem half ******,
Supporting goals that folks don't like,
Wishing they would all just take a hike.

I've only started, the road is long
To fix our country, make it strong,
Instill a sense of pride and worth,
A gleaming beacon for this Earth.

Some complain I act the King,
With subjects kissing my eternal ring.
Do I care, not in a word,
But I do find the concept touchingly absurd.

Kings don't have the power I do,
Most don't even have the slightest thought or clue,
I instead can say and act,
Forgoing any nod to grace and tact.

I get things done, stir up the ***,
Turn detractors’ faces crimson hot,
Hire my friends, cull the wokes,
With a flourish of the pen and practiced strokes.

Next to Putin, now that's a blast
To try and make a peace that lasts.
Get it done with strength and charm,
End this war, curtail the harm.

Then who knows - that Gaza thing,
What a headache with a sting.
Two thousand years of pain and strife,
Where constant bickering is rife.

But if a deal is to be done
I'm the go to, I’m the man.
The Nobel thing will be my prize
This will cut Obama down to size.

And after that may you well ask,
What shall be my next enticing task?
Greenland’s there, Panama for sure,
Forget the catch, it’s the chase that’s the allure.

wheat leaves rustle in gleaming sunset,
air saturated with aromas.
deadly silence.
blood on sunflowers.

she steps, slow shadow,
hand stretched—black soil’s blessing.
poppies in the skull.
cracks on bones.

night falls, hugging trees:
dark forest luring.
will you come back—
will we see each other again—

infinity of void ***** in all life,
never to let go,
never to be free,
never to see.

smoke clouds vision,
explosions deafening.
restless sleep.
restless death.

why is it happening—child’s voice,
old life lost in screams.
all fairness abandoned—
devoid of justice.

viburnum glows in the rising sun,
red cherries bursting with fleshly remnants.
white walls, straw roofs
aged with soot.

her voice loud and clear—
song of the river’s stream:
waters of memories of the past
growing in strength
to consume all that remains.
life’s birth.

hope grows.
a fallen seed,
covered in frost.

The wind now weeps through broken stone,
Black dust is drifting, far and wide.
Where families once called it home,
Now only grief is left to bide.

The mines are gone, the lights are dead,
And silence covers yard and street.
Where once warm hopes and dreams were spread,
Now only chilling breezes meet.

A mother’s lullaby once soared,
A gentle song at close of day.
But war has taken, cut, and scored —
Left loss and pain in its decay.

When dawn bleeds red across the land,
And ashen skies begin to shake,
This earth, betrayed by human hand,
Still bears the silence war would make.

The **** heaps wrapped in solemn gloom
Lie still beneath the ghost-gray sky.
Like stonebound memories they loom —
Unyielding grief that will not die.

When is enough enough,
When is the going just too tough.
Why do people have to die
Forever in the ground to lie.

Are the spoils worth all the pain
When the path is **** and maim.
Is barren land worth just so much
Now deprived of human touch.

Do fatherless children justify the cost
Memories of a generation lost.
Weeping mothers by the score
Adding every day far more.

Politicians acting blind
To the misery resigned,
Just numbers on a sheet
Conscious only of defeat.

Pride and hubris win the day
Reason not allowed to sway.
Yet solutions need be found
Striving to be clear and sound.

Calmer voices must assist
For further slaughter to desist.
The way forward won't be fast
Searching for a peace to last.

Neither side will win outright
Time for discourse not brute might.
Russia needs restore prosperity
Ukrainians live without temerity.

Grief enfolds her shoulders
and her eyes look down
at all of those soldiers
under the ground.

Her thoughts fly
to the shadows around
who softly pass by
and frost all the sounds.

Rows of flowers will bloom
in the yellow-blue colours,
feel the silence and gloom.
Will she ever recover?

Says whatever she wants,
looks in eyes through the picture,
has no hope for response,
prays as said in the scripture.

She'll come later, bring some sweet.
How could she accept - this is it,
nothing left to complete?

How can her heart beat, how?
She is left with a vow,
who will love her from now?

An indifferent look at the stone,
all next minutes unknown.
Will she be all alone?

No more silly jokes again.
Sadness bowed her head.
All his deeds are not vain.

Rows of flags wave her grief,
truth is hardest belief
which you've got to achieve.

Unfortunately, pits are still empty
waiting.

She quietly reads words on bands,
stands.

She will say about devotion,
implosion.

She talks but he will not talk back.
Fact.

He lies with his brothers,
she'll live with some other,
A life is a moment,
it's not her atonement,
she isn't that weak,
just fatigue.
--

Ukrainian:
Журба за плечі обійма
і погляд опустився.
Прийшла в життя її зима,
немов кошмар явився.

Думки летять її туди,
де тихо ходять тіні
і від замерзлої води
проступить білий іній.

Ряди квіток цвітуть завжди
у жовто-синій гамі,
прийдеш помовчати сюди,
під цими прапорами.

Кажи що хочеш і дивись
в ці очі крізь світлину,
за спокій тихо помолись,
надійся на спочинок.

Ще прийдеш потім, принесеш
солодкого й смачного.
Як прийняти, що це вже все
і не вернеш нічого?

Як серцю далі битись, як?
скажіть їй хтось як жити.
Чи зможе хтось її ще так,
так сильно полюбити?

Чи засміється ще вона
від радості єднання?
Байдужий погляд, бо одна
в тяжких переживаннях.

Не скаже більше він, на жаль,
своїх невдалих жартів,
схилила голову печаль -
вона тепер на варті.

Ряди за обрій прапорів,
що майорять від туги,
розкажуть істину без слів
про болі, про наруги.

Пустують ями ще, на жаль,
чекають побратимів,
яких віддати мають нам -
ми віримо - живими.

Слова типові на стрічках
вона читає тихо,
побачити б в отих словах
для цього болю вихід.

Сказала б ще раз про любов
і як його чекала,
та думка холодила кров:
вона цю долю знала.

Ще поговориш ти, та він
вже більше не озветься,
востаннє зробиш ти уклін
розірваному серцю.

Він не один лежить,
вона ж одна піде додому.
І день як мить,
і рік як мить,
життя як мить,
лиш втома.

He pulls on the sweater, unasked for, ill-fitting and probably itchy as hell, but he knows the ritual by now and pulls until his head births and he opens his eyes ready for the chorus of smiles and laughter, but they're not there.
It's dark and the scents and chimes of Christmas are gone, he's spinning and falling in a force 10 gale battered by the sound of breaking waves.  So he reaches out for an anchor; his hands sink into a hedgerow, prickly with Hawthorn entwined with Holly, but he can't pull away and the momentum thrusts him forward through the pain into a field of sunflowers which swing their heads to face him, accusing him of trespass.  That’s when he becomes aware of distant gun fire and what looks like a star falling towards him.  Their heads duck down, forcing him to his knees and he's on all fours, his hands deep in Aunt Maud's **** in front of the fire, his head ringing, shell shocked, shaking and weeping while the family help him up.
- Easy there, Sam, you okay?  You look like hell. –
He looks around for his aunt’s face, and she smiles.
- He'll be fine, it sometimes takes us a while after our emergence from Mid Yell.  It's my first attempt at a Mid Yell and Ukrainian mohair blend.  Bring him some water.  Sam dear, have a seat and make sure you come and find me when you want to take it off, but not for a while. You shouldn't Walk the Goat too often, it confuses the soul. –
His siblings stare, full of questions and relief for their scarves as he studiously ignores them, and stares into the fire, shivering, hands prickly, the gun shots resonating in his gut and the aroma of sunflowers filling his head, knowing he needs to find that star.