IconElegies

May God have mercy on my enemies, not me. I was a poet of war. War was everything. I would have liked to die in battle, as a soldier should. Instead I died in bed, paralyzed, a mockery of a soldier. Fortunately, I was buried with my soldiers. My battlefields were familiar to me, I had fought on them before, when as a Roman legionnaire, as a Napoleonic warrior. My destiny is to be reborn, as a warrior. Poet's note. Panzer General Patton believed he had already been a soldier in the Roman Empire.

Death was never far from me nor was pain love remained far from me abandoned me or died away happiness I could not keep why then should I not have dressed in black and sing when I could not do otherwise such was your little sparrow sweet morphine A poet's note. Edith Piaf is still a legendary singer.

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.

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 dictator tells the people about his love on television Even if he sends soldiers to die Even those who have never experienced love That power he has Others have a duty to die Without love in their souls The dictator tells the people about his love on television Not about the soldiers' funeral before the wedding Poets note: Vladimir Putin told about his lovelife in tv.

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.