Drones: The New Warfare Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

In silent skies and dirt below,
A new and deadly era grows.
No single pilot guides the flight;
Smart machines now search the night.

One human sits and gives the word,
While flying follows flock and herd:
A hundred drones linked wing to wing,
Deciding what tomorrow's sting.
They talk in codes across the air,
To hunt and dodge and gather there.

With metal eyes they scan the land,
And sort the tanks from where we stand.
No pilot hand upon the screen—
The logic lives in deep machine.

When rivals try to block the wave,
And jam the signals meant to save,
The wire unrolls—a thin white thread—
To guide the missile to the dead.
Or AI takes the final leap,
To strike where human eyes don't sleep.

From Ukraine's fields to Sudan's sand,
The weapons change across the land.
What took long years of test and pain,
Now shifts in weeks on battle plain.
The machines awake, the swarms descend,
And wars now reach a colder end.