IconElegies

I was called Dali at the front, but at home I was Maksym, a machine gun poet, whose life ended too early, like so many others in Ukraine. I was a poet, already on the Maidan, but I grabbed a machine gun, when it was needed. Ukraine has lost many of us artists, I became a classic after my death, just as I suspected. My book sold out. Poet's note. Maksym Kryvtsov was a poet who fell in the Ukrainian war.

My name was Bond, James Bond. They tried to kill me for many times, the dark side of the profession, but the last time they succeeded. I was an orphan boy, who saved the world more times than I can remember, but who couldn't save himself. I had many relationships, but I only loved two women, and I couldn't keep either of them. So don't judge me for a little drinking. Poet's Note. James Bond is a fictional character created by Ian Fleming.

This is my last revolution. This revolution failed. This was a crusade of the rascals. I am dirty and hungry myself. My life is at an end. I should have saved the last bullet for myself, and not been taken prisoner. They eye me like a prize bull. Tomorrow they will shoot me, take my body to their masters. There is no more Che Guevara. The revolution will not die with my death. They only shot a man. Poet´s note. Che Guevara was shot in Bolivia. Since his death, he has become an icon of revolutionaries.

The King and His Soldiers. Frozen, they retreated from the last battle. The King would die, and the strongest of the soldiers would see home. The King and his soldiers fought the last lost war in a snowy, icy land that remained in the hands of their masters. They had fought, destroyed, and lost Europe together. That had come to an end. The King's fate was the loneliest. It was never known whether his own soldiers shot him. Did the soldiers take revenge after his death? Their anger and screams could not be locked away in a dungeon. After death, there were no kings, no subjects. A scream could be heard. That too fell silent, no one heard. Death silenced even the loudest voices. Poets note. Carl XII was swedish king 18th century 

They called him the white death. He himself did not establish a name. He remained silent and quiet, just as when he was lying in wait for his next kill. Patiently, from darkness to darkness. He shot unexpectedly, the best sniper in the world, from far only a roar could be heard, silence descended on the light, again the life of one enemy ended, which flowed reddish into the white snow. Like a beast for its victim, he again lurked, one with nature, the world's most famous messenger of death, Simo Häyhä, and they called him the white death.