Anna Bowles is an editor and activist who divides her time between London and east Ukraine. She began writing poetry in response to Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022. To date her work has been published in Magma, Orbis, Poetry Salzburg and the Four-Faced Liar, amongst others, as well as placing in a number of UK competitions. Her pamphlet ‘Landscape With Mines’ was published by Mica Press in December 2025.
Marina’s House
Close to the end
lies Marina’s house in ruins.
The russians
blew up the village
and filmed it.
Here’s the footage—
she points
—that’s my house.
She’s watched this
how. many. times?
Marina, come away
from the scorched earth, the russian hammer and curse…
No.
Her neighbours
are bright anoraks
amid the rubble.
Oleh found two anti-tank mines in his hut; just the two.
At night one television lights the village,
the thirty souls
left in the ravage sing.
The volunteers gather, wide-eyed,
We’ll help you rebuild…
Marina harboured
the AFU in her cellar for weeks. Fixed point,
she stands whole in these ruins.
russia, you came this far and no further. Here is Marina,
her home, her father and mother.
© Anna Bowles
Fates
East Ukraine, 2024
Fingers as starved beaks, steady like fear,
they stitch through dried fishing net
ravels of green, brown-purple, pixel-khaki.
Up close, it wouldn’t fool anyone. Step back,
and they cultivate lush, fruitless branches. Sunlight
smudges the panes of the disused factory;
sirens fuse with synapses all to purpose.
In Russia, they weave too. I don’t really know
about this war, but we have to support our boys…
Everything here is known. Mothers braid spells
of caul, shield and shelter for warriors.
In winter, everything is white.
© Anna Bowles
Humanitarian Purposes
Ukraine, 2025
These women volunteers inspire us all.
Each day from dawn to dusk they stand and sort
donated toys from Kansas; sweets from Spain;
kids’ shoes from Britain. Then write full reports.
They sign for broken dolls and baby food,
hold distribution days for needy mums
and dole out German nappies; soldier on
despite the count of dead and missing sons.
The angels always file precise accounts
assuring donors money is used well.
And when the Russian army’s at the gates
they’ll bid the lot of us go rot in hell—
unshielded by the Lego barricade
of generous humanitarian aid.
© Anna Bowles