Best Peacekeeper Poems
I am Libra
In every way, in every emotional sense
I am the white picket fence
That encases the complexity
Which makes up all that is me
I am me
I am the chameleon
I am the peace
In all the things you wish to see me be
I am passion
I am love
I am freedom and justice and all of the above
But still I am
The diplomacy and balance
That makes up your own democracy
I can naturally lead you to the end of your insecurity
I am strong willed and independent
Charismatic, ambitious and very flirtatious
But that's me
Still silently awaiting
To be in your precious reality
It be a dream you see
To be the rain that showers love
Or the sun that lights up your days
From so high above
But that's me
A peacekeeper, a homemaker
A pervasive, idealistic extrovert
Whose passionate enough to cleverly become
Your most dynamic love maker
I am excited
I am loyal
And all that you see that never seems to spoil
But that is me, the Libra you see
Patiently awaiting
For you to set me free
Tumult was I ready for the fight.
My mother use to tell me that I was too shy -
that I would avoid chaos and lose out.
However, those girls would not give up.
She says you are a peacekeeper until they f*ck*p!
How true is the truth?
Fracas was heard throughout this section of the city.
People from other parts would drive their cars to witness the mêlée.
I was never involved until one day those girls tested my faith.
I was sitting in the yard enjoying the sunshine…
When they came in front of the house talking loud.
– Nagging- [Those Girls]
Why does she think she is too much?
-Bragging-[-]
Is this a rumor you heard?
-Dragging-[Those Girls]
Not a word of response was given.
These girls knew to go on with their business.
No need to break my beautiful sky
It is better to tell a little lie
Than to face the music, how and why
Better be the deceptive I
And not to trouble the existential tie
We are programmed for enjoying pleasure
Of avoiding pain of any measure
Even a little insecurity is therefore a trigger
To tell a lie and stay a peacekeeper
Don’t we tell such lies to ourselves as well
When we say “well, I am not envious”
Even though I secretly check your mails
Freud called them ego-defenses
What lie who will tell whom is imprecise
It depends on our unique upbringing and biology
But the fact remains we prefer to say “wow, the tea is nice”
Even when it is insipid, just a survival strategy
No need therefore to spoil the sunrise
Better to stay armed with the soul-saving lies
___________________________________________________
June 25, 2016
For the Poetry Contest: Sweet little lies
Sponsored by: Silent One
The Dark Rider
From a dark and distant time, so very long ago
In a land, time has forgotten, sunken below
In an era when the blackened heart of man
Struck fear and despair within all the land
You could feel the grip of the black cloud of fear
Blanketing over the land, everything far and near
“Tis a terrifying time for the likes of any man
Unaware of whence this tale of darkness began”
The elders would speak of a dark sinister long ago
Where a black ghostly image would appear so slow
A dark rider would appear out of the cold black night
Riding a black steed, fire in it’s eyes, terrifying sight
It was said that rider was sent from hell to avenge
Of the innocents done wrong, seeking only revenge
A hellish quest, retribution to the evils that men do
Swift reprisals to the wrongdoers he does pursue
The rider is judge and jury, not one man shall survive
Once he seeks out his lowly prey, not one is left alive
He suddenly appears, tall shadow in blackest night
Of who he seeks no one knows, until daybreaks light
Once again the dark rider leaves his mark on the town
His justice for those too weak, unable to fight is renown
The fear that evil doers feel for this dark unholy reaper
Is a testament to his judgment, an unholy peacekeeper
"We are the dead. Short days ago
We loved, felt dawn and saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved ...."
By _ Lt. Col. John McCrae (In Flanders Field) 1915
________________
Let me tell you a story . . .
I recall a little boy who played in the sandbox
and drove me crazy most of the time
I had to chase him everywhere
but he had a dream to be a soldier
a Canadian Peace Keeper
we, the family were proud but frightened also
Dad would say, he is a peacekeeper so he will be okay
anyone who tells you peacekeepers do not die
is lying because they do ...
my little brother came home in a box
like so many he fought in a battle far, far from home
I visit his grave often
passing the rows and rows of white stone military markers
my great grandpa fought in WWI
I have a photograph of him in uniform
my grandpa fought in WW2
he never spoke of what he saw
grandma said he came back a changed man
I think a lot about all the men and women who go to war
who have given their lives for peace
wish I could go to Flanders Field Cemetery
and see the 12,000 crosses row after row
is war to be part of this life forever
for, it seems there is always a war somewhere
I read somewhere that
the poppies are dying in Flanders Field
_____________________
November 13, 2021
Poetry/Narrative/Where Poppies Grow
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1606-322-13
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, War
sponsor, Kai Michael Neumann, Judged 12/22/2021
Seventh Place
It's when aristocracy begins to feel like a mid-uphill battle
It's when the armageddon features evil on both sides
and,
the good are speculating from the auditorium
It's when a 10year old is ducking depleted uranium in Benghazi
It's the bicentennial brainwash that is rapidly depopulating the black community,
It's the fake pastors leading the blind
It's the bloodshed in Raqqa that features berserk jihadists
It's the human traffickings increasing the traffic on the offramp to hell
It's that uno blunder that results in millions bearing a thunder
It's the bogeyman in a tuxedo you voted for stealing away dreams that he sold you.
It's when your future is decided in a one page boustrophedon
It's the bushveld your forefathers were massacred for that you don't have the papers to occupy that continues enriching the man you're working for
Another piece of land sold!
It can't be a rainbow nation with a camouflaged sincerity shaking hands with the devil that's pleading for your votes momentarily
It's another puppet in the whitehouse raising hell and forfeiting heaven.
I had to analyze it properly to see who the "holy bible" really benefits
It's the difference between a peacekeeper and a peacemaker,
It takes peace being present to keep it but little children are starving and homeless because of an American airstrike claiming to fight terrorism that they birthed
It's being an illegal human being because that's the true definition of an African American,
It's the young teenager popping xanax for a deadbeat euphoria
It's the disintegrated city of Mosul and obliterated future for millions of infants
When evil is an obligation they program your mind into denying intuition
It's all about control!
It's an Mk ultra anniversary
It's the disinclination to grant you freedom
Because you can't be free if you aren't a free thinker
It's the trend they sponsor that further demoralizes the black youth that you see your idols promoting
It's the creative freedom you lose once you become a marketing plan.
It's the literature they don't promote the reason you think this is too long to read that actually educates you
I'm offering you this disillusion to share with those in the same dungeon of thought you just escaped from after reading this.
Peace!
Jerusalem lead him to his death and brother found peace with war, the peacekeeper laugh to mock the chief of the keeper of hell's door. between the slaughters of the children the deed departed into the night and no forgiveness was found, for all of jerusalem's children lay in death bed sleeping without a sound. the arabs come by night to the west with strange weapons in hand. the thunder struck the barbaric insane with a equal name the reigns, while the roman priest coward into the night reading his bible, he shall be found with no head and in his hands the paper of his fraud. he washed his hands by saying these words, cause his victim was the son of Elohim, but the sister of the divine saw his impure heart and put to death his faith, than the holy mother heard his prayers and wash the blood from his face how else could our lord forgive him? (woe mother) this heart of mine is pulling me down, why do you feel you shall not suffer? oh you cowards and runaways, and borrowers, the king of host shall come back as a king to pay his subjects with an royal wage, and the wealthy shall weep and woe greatly, for they put their faith in what the earth offers. (woe mother) somebody calling my soul, I do see the seven angels and the four horsemen stand to do battle, but not with one another but those who remain on the earth, for the earth has become a dire place to be. (woe mother) the suffering of your children was heard, now ten king seek the place of the royal throne, but the seat is for none, for the holy mother has cry for her children and the holy father shall save one out of every ten thousand, and they shall not be of fair skin, they shall be the holy one's of the Hebrews.
If only I could ... go back in time and like a mystic change my life path with
a magic wand. So, many things I would do different, so many things I could
change. Back, back to my childhood and the day I watched my sister die on
the street. I would cry out loud for days instead of going quiet and keeping
everything within. And when I was being bullied in school as a teen because
I was different, I would stand tall a beautiful Ojibwe girl with black flowing
hair instead of hiding in corners. I have dreams of my Ojibwe origins ...
there on a high cliff
a horse of many colors ...
feathers in the wind
Like magic my baby would not die in my arms, my husband would not crash
his car. Mom and Dad would still be alive. Grandma would be rock, rocking.
My little brother would never have become a peacekeeper and come home in
a box ... but most of all I would embrace this great heritage of mine with all
my heart and soul and not be afraid to say I am proud to be one of The First
Nation People of Canada and I would shout it to the sky ...
a lone Ojibwe girl
gazes at the horizon ...
eagles soar and call
____________________
April 02, 2023
Poetry/Haibun/If Only I Could
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1536-879-02
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, This or That, Vol 17
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Judged 04/27/2023
First Place
Awareness about behavior,
present since mine days of yore
an unswerving allie analogous
to peacekeeper ending civil war
belated insight suddenly realized
(better late than never) doth underscore
incumbent proactive communication stance
belatedly bestowed omnipotent awareness
crucial fostering ingredient to shore
maternal bond above
bejesus ear splitting roar
I admit regret (to self), there
dost belie suppressed yen to pour
out sorrows 'twixt this sole him son,
and long deceased mother, he
deprived her his love and outwore
the Scottish tartan Harris tweed
welcome (haz) mat, which pained
materialized soon after her death, nor
can compensation be made,
now ex post facto,
when futility of spilt tears got more
gauged and swept away, when
nary a trace I privately cried
amidst lachrymose lakeshore.
20/20 hindsight brought me unflagging mast
into stark painful focus,
essentially how mine
formative behavior wrought avast
dystopian emotional fractured mindscape,
which non positive coping methods
lit fuse kindling devastating catastrophic blast
from yesteryear to present silent woebegone
desolate gloomy terrain past
grandeur eclipsed by present gloom
finds yours truly stranded like cast
away bleached flotsam upon coast
amidst tempestuous rocky shoals
clinging for dear life with grasp fast,
Where tenuous, precarious,
and ludicrous ship
of state can no longer maintain
even a marginal grip
but with slight equip
age willing, wedding,
and wanting brings relief from whip
lashed incurred (within body) showing rip
pulled scarred taut welts testimony, sans
long electrified with aggravation,
excruciation, and intoleration can easily flip
a figurative switch in summary
ushering final lip
service to charade,
facade, and masquerade
at lightspeed didst clip
this...Potemkin Village,
where everything "FAKE,"
asper envisioning flickr
ring mirage recounting ancient Egypt!
With governments holding hands
with goals to protect the war zones
A peacekeeper takes her place
Amidst the rubble and stones
She does several missions
such as patrols
With armor to her vest
She seeks to protect so many souls
But corruption is rampant
and some days she fears
for her own personal safety
when peace is not clear
Yet still she goes out
and does her sworn duty
to honor and to protect
which mirrors her beauty
Let's thank this peacekeeper
as she is one we admire
who gives it her all
in calmness and fire
My brother was a real beautiful baby
and the sweetest little brother a sister could have.
He wanted to be a peacekeeper- thats what Canada is famous for,
so he enlisted and oh gosh, he did look handsome . . .
then, he left on a peacekeeping mission.
It was to a country I did not know
far away, a foreign land and a foreign war.
We watched the television at the horrific scenes of bombing- fighting,
father would tell us don't worry he's a peacekeeper . . .
as time rolled on and we accepted his dream.
Those images of roadside bombs scared me
those news cast reports of fighting breaking out all over,
of terror groups who have no value for life- theirs or anothers.
Anyone who says peacekeepers don't die is wrong . . .
I often kneel at my brothers military grave.
And lay red roses for that sweet little boy
who died a hero with dreams of peace in the world.
_______________________
May 24, 2017
Verse/A War Far Away
Copyright Protected, ID 904137
Written for the contest, Foreign War
Sponsor, Lewis Raynes
Ninth Place
Diplomat of sullen hearts
Capturing hearts for the
Art of love I am an envoy
Specific to the world
The envoy deploy from east
To west north to south
I am the Ambassador of love
The Master of shores that
Beseech me
The diplomat of truth do trust
You must
To those that are Hateful
I am your dangerous peaceful
Enemy
I am the Ambassador of the
Poor the peacekeeper of
Love you all
For Heavens sake I am at the
Gates
You must devote
For I am Master of Devotion
Ambassador of love
I am your friend
Befriend me
On my long trek to church, not just traipsing
I felt utterly overwhelmed by all I'm gapesing
Graffiti, trash & recycling everywhere littered
Wished I could clean up till our town glittered
But I worry about germs, and where to dump
After I gather a bag or two into a huge lump
Also this is probably somebody's job out there
Still-- why don't all the litterbugs seem to care
There should be way more trash & recycle bins
At regular intervals, to cut down littering sins
Maybe Disneyland's called "the happiest place"
Since they sweep immediately without a trace
Once I even dreamt I worked as their sweeper
Cleaners seem to me --a humble peacekeeper
Although my clean-up dream is yet unfulfilled
I hope praying as I go leaves a legacy instilled
Spring blasts in on a winter swan’s golden wing
Bringing all the new grass a season can bring
Winter feels shoved out, and runs quickly away
Spring has come in too heartily, what can I say?
But maybe she does not know better, Autumn argues.
She is the peacekeeper with leaves of a variety of hues.
Spring overheard and decided to come in in a gentler way.
She was seen riding in on a slow bike just yesterday.
SOLDIER
a man or woman who fights for your every right
a man or woman walks destinys path every night
a man or woman stands tall no matter the fright
Peacekeeper
a man or woman fights to protect
a man or woman sticks out his neck
a man or woman that stand till theres no one left
Soldier or peacekeeper these people are just like you and me
support them so children may run free care free and happily
Becuase they are doing the same thing in a diffrent way for you and me