Last night, they sang hymns in Kiev;
this morning, they sandbag the malls.
Saturday, schoolboys with rifles.
Sunday, late shoppers man the walls.
The sky burns bright – pale blue to blush
to red – obliterates the stars.
Commuters, to the metro rush;
but no buses, no trains, no cars…
come, unfriendly bombs, rain fire
on these family homes, held dear;
churn fountains and streams to mire.
Upturn dreams; open eyes; unclear.
nickreeves 
A gut-wrenching poem for yet another gut-wrenching time.
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Precisely, Liz: gut-wrenching. Let’s hope for some sense to come from somewhere. Nick.
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We can only hope . . .
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Hello Nick, Very well written. A very sad topic. All the best. jerry
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Yes, very sad, Jerry. Why can’t ‘they’ just play nicely and enjoy the roses? All best, Nick
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I don’t know what to say any longer…I can’t stand that things never change. That stupid, small, greedy, egomaniacs just keep doing the same thing over and over again and everyday people are the murdered, bloody mess, in their wake.
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What’s so funny ’bout peace, love and understanding? Thank you for taking the time and energy.
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‘Saturday, schoolboys with rifles.
Sunday, late shoppers man the walls.’
It’s something we recognise as everyday life turned on its head, isn’t it? Mother’s meeting in the town square to mix Molotovs on a Saturday afternoon: it’s no kid’s party.
Your final word reads as an uneasy anagram.
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Normality upturned, yes. Molotovs in the the town square! I missed that ace! But I knew at once you’d see the anagram! Thanks Ingrid.
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You’re most welcome!
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Such a harrowing and shocking experience in words, painfully depicting this unfathomable experience Nick! Ugh 😩
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Sad times, Cindy.
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so much so Nickl 😢
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So powerfully stated
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Thanks, Derrick
Take care.
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This is an excellent piece Nick, so much of it sums up how I’m feeling and how it must be there now.
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We ain’t in kansas anymore that’s for sure. Thanks Leighton.
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Such a nightmare. Poignantly captured here.
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