"petryshyn" poems
Russia?
will Russia spare?
will Russia spare some peace?
will Russia spare Ukraine some peace?
sorry: they are at the feast
of making Russia important and strong,
and, as some Ukrainians were wrong,
as some Ukrainians were bad
wanting to be free with the West,
Russia did its best
to take the Crimea to protect their "toungue",
and, as it appeared it was great fun
for Russians living there,
even if it wasn't fair!
and Russians opened a war against Ukraine,
as Russia's government was in pain,
that Europe would accept Ukraine,
that, be it snow or rain,
Ukrainians were sane,
so Russia got the mean aim
to ruin Ukraine
as Ukrainians wanted their language and independence,
and Russia was counting onto the dependence
to have the slaves in Ukraine,
thus, killing the soldiers, Russia wanted to tame
Ukraine
putting it in ruins and flames
to get the fame
of the framer,
while the West was talking and shaking hands
with the accompaniment of the bands.
Ivan Petryshyn
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
hello, oh, Poetry!
I write,
I know, my Miss,
you are so bright,
but I am also very right.
Good bye, My Muse-
good night!
Ivan Petryshyn
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
it was impossible to teach:
the savage creatures wanted not,
they didn't want to follow rules,
as, they believe, it was too cool,
as their memory was low,
and they all wanted to go home,
as their memory was high,
and they all wanted to say "bye!",
and they decided to revenge
onto the teacher, as they could not
pour all their anger onto others,
the teacher wasn't their brother,
and their counselors were far,
and they could not revenge the lawyers,
and they could not revenge the Laws
that have entrapped their claws and paws.
Ivan Petryshyn
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
God made the good and the bad,
the righteous and the sinners,
the losers and the winners-
for all them I do pray,
as I'm in their day,
and I'm on their way
today.
Ivan Petryshyn
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
among the days
that happen to be nice,
there are the ones,
when I have to a-cry,
the days of loss,
the days of bitter sorrow,
that make less pleasant the tomorrow,
and, then, I pray,
and, then, I read Shakespeare,
becoming Romeo or Hamlet, or King Lear.
by Ivan Petryshyn, USA
Іван Іванович Петришин, США
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC