Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Drawings’ Category

WWI Scene – Soldier on Wire (c)Michael J. Whelan, 2009

 

TO ALL THE PRESIDENTS, ALL THE KINGS, ALL THE GENERALS AND POLITICIANS

I have seen the wire
that caught on the uniforms
of unlucky soldiers,
touched the pointed barbs
that pierced their skin
before the bullets
that took them,
stood where the missing lie.
In my pocket
is a poem
that brings me back
like a bridge.
In my pocket
is the blood coloured rust
of the rage of men.

Michael J. Whelan

 

Published in ‘One Hundred Years From Now,’ a sequence of poems by Michael J Whelan in LE Poetry & Writing, Edited by Mark Ulyseas, Volume One December 2018

see

https://liveencounters.net/le-poetry-writing-2018/12-dec-pw-vol-one-2018/michael-j-whelan-one-hundred-years-from-now/

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Today is Armistice Day 11/11/1918 – 2017 (99 years),

it’s also a Day of Remembrance in many countries resulting from many different conflicts, and also for Peacekeepers!

 

No Fear of Sleep & artwork by Michael J. Whelan

 

 

No Fear of Sleep

 

An old man wishes

No more to dig

To hide

To fear

To bury the dead

Protect his head

To cry

No more to fight

To kill

To maim

To see the slain

Be coverd in their stain

Rebury the dead

No more to dig

He wants to live

To sing

To go to bed

No fear of sleep

And dreams that creep

Reliving the pain

That trenches frame

 

(c)Michael J. Whelan

from ‘On Hurting Ground – Poetic Silhouettes On Soldiers, History, Love and Tragedy’ 2009

 

Read Full Post »

Today is Armistice Day 11/11/1918 – 2017 (99 years),

it’s also a Day of Remembrance in many countries resulting from many different conflicts, and also for Peacekeepers!

On Hurting Ground by Michael J. Whelan

 

On Hurting Ground – poem & image by Michael J. Whelan

 

 

Read Full Post »

Winter War sketch (c)Michael J. Whelan

Winter War sketch (c)Michael J. Whelan

 

WAR

 

Early snow laid quiet the land,

kept still in silent slumber,

streams curving under frozen shields

caressed the virgin wonder

and scars of war upon the earth

were hidden to the sky,

for in that morning’s dawning breath

both man and bird could fly.

But in the woods bold soldiers woke

a bear from angry sleep,

their marching songs fuelled his hate,

brought bloodlust to his teeth.

 

And in the field a stomping mare

feared her awful fate,

biting and kicking she fought to live

until the fateful claw

that laid her quiet on the land,

blood stealing all the snow.

As she died her heat rose up

like steam from all her wounds,

her organs bled the air above

and soldiers warmed their hands.

 

Michael J. Whelan

Published by Mark Ulyseas in Le Poetry Magazine, October Issue 2016

see  http://liveencounters.net/2016/09/20/live-encounters-poetry-october-2016/

Read Full Post »

 

Medieval Warriors (c)Michael J. Whelan, 2009

Warriors (c)Michael J. Whelan, 2009

THE FIVE THOUSAND

 

Five thousand through the approaches of Ivernia,

to the land of the Scotai we sailed,

five thousand strong were we

and the enemy met us there

at Drumanagh where we rammed the Navis Iusora ashore

 

and I remember, yes, I Quintus of the 9th Legion,

before I drew my gladius,

before I jumped into the water,

I threw my pilus ashore

and in the name of Mars I swore,

as it killed the first barbarian,

to protect the aquilifer,

I followed to keep the Eagle free,

I would not betray it to this enemy,

 

and so in Ivernia we fought for Agricola’s glory,

we lit the funeral pyres,

built our palisades on the promontory,

for while we held this foothold

our soldiers died,

our tents were blown, but

though the long grass was reddened

and the winter that came was long

I held my gladius strong!

 

Michael J. Whelan

 

Inspired by a visit to the (supposed) Roman settlement on the Promontory at Drumanagh with Peter O’ Neill and Eithne Lannon – 2016

Published by Amos Greig in ‘A New Ulster’ Magazine, issue 38, Aug 2016

Read Full Post »

 Reading The Lines – Easter 1916 Commemorative Edition

Really happy to have a poem included in this publication, where I and other poets took a line from the famous Yeats poem….check out the wonderful artwork too, enjoy!

live-encounters 1

live-encounters 1

“The idea behind Reading The Lines derives from William Butler Yeats’ Easter 1916. Poets  were invited to choose a line from this iconic work which resonated for them, either culturally, politically or historically. The chosen line was then given a new lease of poetic life, forming a transitional bridge from the now of 2016 to a century ago and the events which led up to or followed on from Ireland becoming a Republic.”
Eileen Casey, Irish Poet and Writer

 

Click here to connect to Live Encounters where you can read or download this beautiful publication for free!

 

 

Live-Encounters-Platform-One-Writers-Easter

Live-Encounters-Platform-One-Writers-Easter

 

Editor of Live Encounters, Mark Ulyseas, has served time in advertising as copywriter and creative director selling people things they didn’t need, a ghost writer for some years, columnist of a newspaper, a freelance journalist and photographer. In 2009 he created Live Encounters Magazine, in Bali, Indonesia. It is a not for profit (adfree) free online magazine featuring leading academics, writers, poets, activists of all hues etc from around the world. March 2016 saw the launch of its sister publication Live Encounters Poetry.

http://liveencounters.net/2016/05/10/live-encounters-poetry-reading-the-lines-easter-1916-commemorative-edition-2/

Read Full Post »

Soldiers  - Michael J. Whelan

Soldiers – Michael J. Whelan

 

CHRIST CRUCIFIED AGAIN

                    The Great War

 

 

Lost, and full of fear,

the mud covered trooper

escapes from hell,

tumbles in the depths of the underworld,

while floundering in the shell scarred bowels

of No-Man’s Land.

 

He climbs towards life through broken Earth,

where splintered stained glass windows

tell him he’s beneath the ruins of a church.

 

He creeps between dappled portals of light,

over alabaster icons in the shadow crypt

laid out on the floor many months before.

 

He hears scratching nearby,

fears his enemies close,

raises his sights to the sole rotted boots of a soldier

hanging out from a blood stained altar.

 

He cannot see the face,

imagines a crown of thorns upon the head.

He cocks his rifle, sends a bullet to the breech,

crawls forward expecting to fight

and trips on the cord-wood corpses

of others dressed as he.

 

Suddenly he sees a monstrous rat

like a ravenous dog gnawing wildly

at the nose cartilage of this altered crucifixion.

 

He shoots and the white dust rises.

War finds him again

but all are already dead.

 

Michael J. Whelan

 

Published in ‘Tallaght Soundings 3; A Collection of New Work from The Virginia House Writers -Edited by Maria Wallace,’ November 2015

 

 

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »