WAKA is 'the music of the Primes'.

Conscious, wrapped.

In a foil blanket.

As he receives treatment.

From a nurse.


But he is more worried about.

The men he’s left behind.

“I can’t live.

Without my guys.”


“They’re my friends.

My second family.”

He wants to get back to them.

As soon as he is patched up.


The ‘orcs’ too.

Have been taking.

Heavy casualties.

But there are more of them.


He says they were.

Fighting off wave.

After wave of attacks.

“There are a lot of them.”


‘Mordor’’s believed.

To have massed a force.

Of more than 30,000.

Just over the border.


Ukraine has not just been.

Outnumbered on this front.

It’s also been outgunned.

“The ‘orcs’ have everything.”


“Whatever they want.

And we have nothing.

To fight with.

But we do what we can.”



At a field hospital.

Well behind the front line.

‘Elves’ medics are treating.

Yet another casualty.


He has lost.

Some of his fingers.

In a mortar explosion.

He’s lying on a bed.



*Because I read “Ukraine’s defence lines stretched as Russian troops advance” by Jonathan Beale on 17 May 2024, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, including a story of Viktor.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:

Ukraine war: Ukraine’s defence lines stretched as Russian troops advance (bbc.com)