Long Peacekeeper Poems
Long Peacekeeper Poems. Below are the most popular long Peacekeeper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peacekeeper poems by poem length and keyword.
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!
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!
Hey there little one
Toddling ‘round your parents’ feet
Not yet knowing who you are
A whole wide world to meet
You have Nobility -
Heroes’ blood pumps in your heart
Martyrs, warriors and pioneers
Are part of who you are
Both your grandfathers
Served honorably in the military
Tom was in the Marine Corps
I was a UN Peacekeeper in the Army
Fred Halliday served,
Himself a war refugee,
Somewhere in Korea
With the US Army
Mark L Halliday served
In the British Army
Fighting Nazi oppression
Buried in Italy
Paul Redeuilh,
Your Nana’s grandfather
Morte pour la France
At the start of the Second World War
Pappy’s grand uncle
The late Wilford Berry
Fought the Japanese in the Pacific
He was also in the Army
Fred’s grand uncle
The Englishman Cyril Kinsella
Was an indentured servant, then soldier
Twice wounded in 'The Great War' for Canada
Not all heroes fight in wars
But do great deeds that matters
Such were the Utah Pioneers
Who crossed the Plains from Winter Quarters
One Pioneer, your fourth great grandfather
Elder William Shanks Berry
Was a missionary martyr for his faith -
Assassinated in Tennessee
Uriah Roudy, your sixth great grandfather
During the American Revolution
Was wounded at Bunker Hill or Brandywine
And served General George Washington
George Berry, his father Bradley, and
Moses Clack Sr (father-in-law of George)
Were in Virginian Infantry Regiments -
Bradley and Moses at Valley Forge
So Carolina, there may be
More heroes on your mother’s line
Search for them; honor them, too
Dig deeply and see who you can find
Live nobly little one
Because heroes blood pumps in your heart
Martyrs, warriors and pioneers
Made up all of who you are
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.
"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
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
"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 . . .
Imagine a little boy playing in the sandbox
and driving his sister crazy most of the time
he ran and ran everywhere
and he had a dream to be a soldier
a Canadian Peace Keeper, like many
the family were proud but frightened also
fathers, would say, he is a peacekeeper so he will be okay
anyone who tells you peacekeepers do not die
is lying because they do, they do ...
this boy came home in a box
like so many he fought in a battle far, far from home
I visit those graves 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
oh, is war to be part of this world forever
for, it seems there is always a war somewhere
I read somewhere that
the poppies are dying in Flanders Field
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
On Remembrance Day . . . I lay poppies at his grave, a lonely grave among
many, the military grave of my brother. He had been a beautiful baby and
sweet little boy, oh, where did the years go- soon he was a young man; and
telling us he wanted to be a peacekeeper for Canada, and with a smile he left
on a mission to a far away distant land and a distant war. We watched scenes
of bombing and fighting and terrorists, father would say "don't worry he's a
peacekeeper." As time rolled on we accepted that was his dream, but anyone
who says peacekeepers don't die is wrong. I will never ever forget the day he
came home to us, in a box- a hero who only had peace for the world; and I will
forever be doing- an offering of poppies for this brave young man . . .
rows of white head stones
where poppies sway in the breeze-
miles of the brave dead
______________________________
April 25, 2019
Poetry/Haibun/An Offering of Poppies
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1137-528-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest Pick a Title, Vol. 4
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Title Chosen #1, An Offering Of Poppies
Second Place
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