There’s little talk in Sumy.
Of a ceasefire.
Let alone an end to Europe’s.
Largest war since 1945.
The US President.
No longer claims.
He can deliver peace.
In Ukraine in a day.
He’s become embroiled.
In a newer war.
In a newer war.
Bombing Iranian nuclear sites.
‘Take care of yourself!’
screamed the White Queen,
seizing Alice’s hair with both her hands.
‘Something’s going to happen!’
Talks between ‘Mordor’.
And Ukraine.
Have delivered only.
Prisoner exchanges.
And the return of bodies.
‘The One’ appears.
Emboldened and.
Has been upping his demands.
At this moment she heard
a hoarse laugh at her side,
and turned to see
what was the matter
with the White Queen;
but, instead of the Queen,
there was the leg of mutton
sitting in the chair.
With the Summer sun.
Still overhead.
Those trying to save Ukraine.
Expect more Winters of war.
You followed a bumpy track.
Deep into a forest.
To meet troops fresh.
From the front lines.
They were getting.
A refresher course.
In weapons skills.
At a remote training ground.
‘Here I am!’ cried a voice
from the soup-tureen,
and Alice turned again,
just in time to see
the Queen’s broad good-natured face
grinning at her for a moment
over the edge of the tureen,
before she disappeared into the soup.
A battle-hardened 35-year-old.
With a shaved head.
And full beard was.
Among the group.
“I think the war won’t end.
In the next year or two.
And even if it does end.
In six months.”
“With some kind of ceasefire.
It will start again.
In four or five years.
‘The One’ has imperialist ambitions.”
‘Take care of yourself!’
screamed the White Queen,
seizing Alice’s hair with both her hands.
‘Something’s going to happen!’
War inflicts wounds.
– seen and unseen.
He sent his family abroad.
For safety soon after.
‘Orcs’ full-scale invasion.
In February 2022.
And has been unable to see.
His two daughters since then.
At this moment she heard
a hoarse laugh at her side,
and turned to see
what was the matter
with the White Queen;
but, instead of the Queen,
there was the leg of mutton
sitting in the chair.
He and his wife are.
Now divorced.
Other soldiers you met.
Also spoke of broken.
Also spoke of broken.
Relationships and marriages.
That have buckled.
Under the strain.
‘Here I am!’ cried a voice
from the soup-tureen,
and Alice turned again,
just in time to see
the Queen’s broad good-natured face
grinning at her for a moment
over the edge of the tureen,
before she disappeared into the soup.
He sums up war as.
“Blood, dirt and sweat”.
And does not try to.
Conceal the cost.
“We joined our battalion.
As a platoon of.
30 neighbours.
Today, only four of us remain alive. “
‘Take care of yourself!’
screamed the White Queen,
seizing Alice’s hair with both her hands.
‘Something’s going to happen!’
There’s little talk in Sumy.
Of a ceasefire.
Let alone an end to Europe’s.
Largest war since 1945.
The US President.
No longer claims.
He can deliver peace.
In Ukraine in a day.
He’s become embroiled.
In a newer war.
In a newer war.
Bombing Iranian nuclear sites.
*Because I read “’It’s Groundhog Day’: Ukraine’s sky defenders stuck in relentless battle” by Orla Guerin on 5 Jul 2025, 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 Jaeger and Kurban, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
