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.
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
I am turning back the pages of time in my dream
and I find myself again at our family home playing
with my brother in the sandbox- I moan in my sleep
this is a fragile place and painful place and I want to leave
oh, why did you go to fight in that war so far away (WHY)
don't worry sis, you said, I am a peacekeeper we don't fight
but, you still came home in a flag draped box brother
and now you are but a name engraved on a white cross_
the memories I have of you are fragile and tattered with time
_________________________
May 17, 2020
Poetry/Verse/In the Fragility of Dreams
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1252-925-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, In The Fragility of Dreams
sponsor, Silent One
Third 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
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!
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
All about me my name is James Edward Lee Sr forwards to describe me our love of humanity patience peace peacekeeper
My family members are our daughters Carshra and Carprina son James Edward Lee Jr ranch children LeiNal Williams and Carlin Williams a few of my favorite sports and games are Nebraska football why got family ties Go Big Red, Williams sisters tennis, bicycling Also did I mentioned Let me tell you about pets I love them but of yet I don't have any now Three things that make me happy are general peace, freedoms, two new grandchildren being alive and well. My favorite subjects are reading, poems and songwriting, math, quality assurance matters My favorite fun places I like to go to our churches gospel religious concerts, books and comic stores. I like to eat mostly anything {new things now eating more healthy} some fun not many people know about me is my general love for humanity for children bless the children...
11/24/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
"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
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
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
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