Ukrainian wartime poetry through the ages

For centuries, Russia has tried to erase Ukrainian culture by silencing its most powerful voices, but poets have long been using art to document their recurring struggles for survival.

Olena Herasymiuk via her Facebook.

In these lands, it’s considered unnatural

when war doesn’t flow through the pipes —

into every home, down every throat.

From a poem by Ukrainian poet Iia Kiva, 2016

“Veteran literature is a missile with which we can fight against Russian narratives,” said author and veteran Olena Herasymiuk. “It is a vaccine against Russian lies.”

Her art captures a new wave of Ukrainian wartime poetry — raw, unflinching, and rooted in lived experience. It not only documents the struggle but also continues the legacy of wartime poetry from centuries ago, a reminder of Ukraine’s long struggle against foreign aggressors.

Last week, Zelenskyy awarded the title of Hero of Ukraine to Maksym Kryvtsov — a poet and soldier, who fought his final battle in January last year. His death is a painful reminder that Ukraine is losing not only territory — but also those who shape its culture and forge its identity.

If you open an anthology of Ukrainian poetry from a century ago, it differs little from what is being written today. Ukraine has been forced to endure recurring struggles for survival that etch themselves into its literature like ragged wounds.

Take Yevhen Pluzhnyk, for instance — one of Ukraine’s poetry classics, who died in NKVD prison, the secret police that prosecuted ‘enemies’ of the USSR. His work raises the question of the purpose of art in times of crisis, when action is needed:

"The poet’s gift (like all gifts, bitter) —

Is to understand the futility of poems."

And yet, there are signs of change. Contemporary war poetry has started to take on a different tone, one shaped by a growing belief that this time the fight will be victorious and final. It reflects Ukraine’s gradual shift from merely mourning its past and the injustices it’s suffered to looking forward and carving out its future. Through poetry, the nation is now bearing witness to the transformation from victim to victor.

"And now — I am unbreakable and strong, firm as stone.

I am — my Ukraine, so I hold my back straight."

By Oksana Stomina, 2022

Olena witnessed this transformation happening firsthand.

And she’s seen it on both the battlefield and the blank page. She writes heartwrenching poems that win her awards, studies Ukrainian literature as a linguist, and takes part in defending Ukraine. Once on the frontlines of the Revolution of Dignity, she was saving lives on the frontlines of the full-scale war.

In 2017, she joined the ‘Hospitallers’ medical battalion and stayed on as a paramedic.

The decision to join the military was made after Olena lost her close friends and felt compelled to take action.

"Only actions can change something, not words," she said — a sentence you would never expect to hear from a writer.

Via Olena’s Facebook, Revolution of Dignity.

Together with soldier and writer Yevhen Lir, Olena founded ‘Unwritten,’ a digital archive of works by Ukrainian literary figures killed by Russia.

The project started when Olena and Yevhen realized the urgent need to record contemporary Ukrainian literature’s losses to the Russian war machine — a need that grew stronger the more they found themselves texting each other names of authors they heard had been killed.

Maksym Kryvtsov with his poetry book via Artur Dron’s (poet, soldier, friend) Facebook.

The tipping point for them was two deaths that hit especially hard: that of Victoria Amelina, a famous Ukrainian poet who posthumously received the George Orwell Prize in June 2023 for the book ‘Looking at Women, Looking at War,’ and Maksym Kryvtsov, a poet and soldier killed in action in 2024 whom Olena knew personally.

“The whale of sorrow swallows me

I am here

like Jonah

but I can't get out

six years already

though it lasts forever

the wars never end

the people do

who would have thought.”

By Maksym Kryvtsov

Motivated by deep grief, they wanted to find a way to honor their slain colleagues. And so, the decision was made to not only collect their names for future research, but to start sharing their stories, too.

Initially, they used open source information, Google searches, and personal encounters. If somewhere on Facebook someone mentioned their fallen friend having anything to do with literature, Olena and Yevhen would reach out for details.

With time, more and more people started to contact them. People whose loved ones were working in the literary field, or just writing for a hobby, and who wanted to make sure their work would live on.

The project expanded, and now, though still completely volunteer-based, the database holds over 239 names — among them not just authors, but translators, editors and librarians as well.

“Because Russia is not only killing those who can speak for their people — they are killing the entire system. And this is what our project is about,” Olena said.

Poetry has long been used to document Ukraine’s fight against oppression. And poets, as witnesses, those who can “speak for their people,” have often been targeted: repressed, executed, their work erased.

Ukraine can’t afford to lose any more testimonies. For the first time in centuries, they finally have a real chance to preserve their stories and honor every voice, every name, every word written.

It is these voices that will shape the future, just as those from the past have done for many Ukrainians now.

In 1929, Ukrainian soldier and poet Oles Babii, who fought against the Russian Empire, wrote a poem that later became an anthem among Ukrainian independence fighters:

“We go into battle with a triumphant march,
Solid, strong, unbreakable, like granite,
For crying hasn't given freedom to anyone yet,
Whoever is a fighter, thus gains the world.”

Nearly a century later, this song is still deeply relevant. In 2018, a new version was adopted as the official march of the Armed Forces of Ukraine.

The collective Ukrainian voice refuses to die; it lives on even in banned books, underground concerts, and partisan songs.

This is the only way, Olena insists. Contemporary Ukrainian literature must be based on authentic Ukrainian traditions. That is especially true because centuries of colonization have left a mark on Ukrainian literature.

School textbooks are filled with verses about soldiers who never returned, mothers in mourning, and widows who turn into willow trees — a symbol of sorrow and endless love.

Oksana Stomina is a poet from Mariupol who since 2022 has been waiting for her husband, an Azovstal defender, to return from Russian captivity. Her works explore similar topics, but now in a different light. The pain of waiting gives way to a stubborn resilience:

“Bravely, with quiet devotion,
Believing in miracles still,
Young, fragile, and slender —
A widowed girl.”

Unlike the tragic and passive Ukrainian willow girls of literature from the past, Stomina’s words carry strength and hope. Ukrainian literature should reflect current events, Olena argues, instead of constantly looking back at past traumas and recycling the classics.

“It is important to us that literature is not detached from reality, but serves as an instrument for honoring, remembrance, and resistance,” she said.

Being on the frontlines made Olena’s poetry more direct, blunt in a way — the type of honesty you can only inject into your art when it's factual, documented.

In one of her best poems, for example, ‘Our Father,’ readers will find a harsh remake of one of the most popular Christian prayers, with Olena using military terms and slang while addressing God:

“Our Father!

May your kingdom, power, and will be,

as long as they don't shoot at us.

Give us time, syringes and tourniquets,

hemostatic bandages,

decompression needles,

eye patches,

saline solution, body bags,

armor for paramedic drivers,

so that they can transport alive and well

all those who are alive and well.”

Olena reading poems, via her Facebook

The aesthetic function of poetry is not enough for Olena anymore. She documents events that are so heroic they don’t need metaphors and hyperbole.

Some 20th century poets who fought for Ukraine felt the same way. For example, Myroslav Kushnir, who died at 22, fighting NKVD:

“Words that evoke anger

inject blood with a vicious serum

These words are not in the dictionaries —

they are written in books of battle”

Ukraine’s political landscape in the first half of the 20th century was marked by constant upheaval, shifting borders, and battles on multiple fronts.

Following the collapse of the Russian and Austro-Hungarian Empires during WW1, Ukrainians attempted to establish independent states — notably the Ukrainian People’s Republic (UNR) in the east and the West Ukrainian People’s Republic (ZUNR).

These governments were immediately caught up in wars against multiple enemies: Bolshevik Russia, the White Army, Poland, and even anarchist forces and internal rivals. By 1921, Ukraine was divided mainly between the USSR and Poland.

WW2 intensified the chaos: The Soviets and Nazis both occupied and reoccupied Ukrainian lands, and pro-Ukrainian groups had to fight against both forces, as well as against Polish partisans.

The result was a politically fractured landscape, with Ukrainians fighting on multiple sides, often against each other, all under the pressure of two totalitarian empires.

1919/1920 drawing of Ukraine showing different enemies attacking from all sides, photo from National Library of the Czech Republic

Ukrainian art from the 20th century is often viewed abroad in a strictly Soviet context, leaving Ukraine once again in the shadow of its coloniser. In reality, however, the literature of that era was rich with authentic Ukrainian voices.

Today’s war poetry highlights this distinction — naturally reviving these genuine traditions. Maksym Zahryvnyi, who fought for the UNR, wrote:

“We were known far and wide throughout the world,

We repaid everyone in blood for blood.

We punished the invaders fiercely,

And we will punish them again.”

Poetry has always walked hand in hand with war in Ukraine, so much so that it has suffered losses just as real as families who’ve lost loved ones on the battlefield. Take slam poetry, for instance — a performative, often competitive form of spoken-word poetry that emphasizes emotion and storytelling. Before the 2014 invasion, it was vibrant and popular in Ukraine. Now most people don’t even know what it is, Olena says, calling it “evidence of an interrupted tradition.”

All of Ukraine’s key ‘slammers’ became soldiers or volunteers; they were swept up by the war, according to Olena.

After sustaining a serious lung injury during an evacuation mission, she can no longer serve on the front lines. She now focuses on volunteering and writing, and that includes representing Ukraine internationally. In May, she competed at the World Poetry Slam Championship in Mexico — and ranked among the top 20 slam poets in the world.

Olena at the World Poetry Slam Championship in Mexico, photo by Jonas Samson Völk, via her Facebook

“We have danced through so many wars, we will dance through this one too,” says another Ukrainian poet, Maryna Ponomarenko, in her work ‘Rumors and Gossip Spread in Untrustworthy Media.’

Her words capture a spirit of defiance and resilience that runs deep in Ukrainian culture. Reminders of it can be found all over the battlefield, as well.

"All the trenches… they are all marked with quotes,” Olena said. “In most of the evacuation SUVs, you'll find a quote from a Ukrainian writer, something that the crew particularly likes. On the walls of the deployment points (PDS), you’ll see poetry quotes. Poetry has now become something really, really needed."

One verse emblazoned on stickers that are sold by one of the largest bookstores in Ukraine sums it up pretty well:

“You can cut all the flowers, but you can’t stop the spring from coming.”

NEWS OF THE DAY:

By: Sofia Konoplytska

Good morning to readers; Kyiv remains in Ukrainian hands.

NEW DEAL WITH CANADA: Ukraine and Canada have signed a deal to co-produce defense products, with drones as a top priority, Zelenskyy and Canada’s PM Carney announced in Kyiv on Independence Day. Production has already begun and will take place in both countries.

The deal is expected to speed up the supply of weapons to Ukrainian forces, facilitate technology transfer, and give Ukrainian companies better access to Canada’s defense market. The move is a sign of a deepening long-term defense partnership between the countries.

Carney also announced that Canada’s CA$1 billion (USD$723,000) aid package, which includes drones, armored vehicles, and ammunition, will be delivered in September.

POW SWAP FREES KHERSON MAYOR: Russia and Ukraine carried out a prisoner exchange on Sunday, with 146 people from each side returned. The exchange followed agreements reached between Moscow and Kyiv in Istanbul earlier this year and was mediated by the UAE.

Significantly, the swap also included former mayor of Kherson Volodymyr Mykolaienko, who was kidnapped by Russian forces on April 18, 2022. Speaking with his wife after his release, Mykolaienko’s first words were “Glory to Ukraine.”

Andrii Yermak, Head of the Office of the President, shared a video of Mykolaienko’s return. He noted that Mykolaienko had the opportunity to return to Ukraine in 2022 but chose to stay in captivity to allow a critically ill fellow prisoner to be freed first.

UKRAINE USING DOMESTIC WEAPONS FOR RUSSIA TARGETS: Ukraine is hitting targets deep inside Russia with its own long-range weapons and no U.S. coordination, Zelenskyy said on Sunday, rejecting claims of a U.S. veto on targets.

Earlier, the WSJ reported Washington blocking strikes using U.S.-made weapons to nudge Moscow toward peace talks — a move that doesn’t seem motivating enough for Russia, but limits Kyiv’s war effort.

DOG OF WAR:

Today’s dogs of war are these little guys Mariana met in the grocery store.

Stay safe out there!

Best,
Sofiia