The Ukraine Snow. Sonnet 178.
From my kitchen window, snow falls like cotton balls.
Winds toss them all about; as dandelion seeds,
it settles to the soil, to join the snowy halls,
a tribute to the winter, the time of icy reeds.
From Kyiv’s windows, no one sits watching for the snow.
Ukraine glass is shattered, with Russian bombs of hate.
Slaughtered soldiers, severed limbs, a murderous tableau.
Exploding shells, brave men impaled upon the gate.
Mothers shriek, as children die, they scream мати! Please! 1
As Fathers hear Тато допоможи мені! 2
“Mommy, Please!” a bloodied child, begging on her knees.
“Daddy, Help me!” Daddy dead aims the enemy.
The snow in my back yard stays pure and clean and white.
The snow that falls in Kyiv is bloody through the night.
-David L. Stanley, February, 2022
1. pronounced ‘maty’
2. pronounced ‘Tato dopomozhy meni’
About the Creator
David Louis Stanley
Educator.Poet.Author.Writer.Voice-for-Hire.
Husband.Father.Friend.
Thinker of thoughts who gets stuff done.
Melanoma Awareness Advocate.
Three books in print.
Never miss a chance to do good.
I write sonnets.
I’m bringing sonnets back.™
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