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Posts Tagged ‘A Hundred Black Horizons’

Lebanon landscape 1994 -Michael J. Whelan

Lebanon landscape 199os -Michael J. Whelan

 

METAL IN THE SKY

 

After the shelling – stillness.

The air is clean, nothing hurtful comes their way,

no more metal in the sky – for now.

 

The hills whisper to the survivors

‘live again, breathe deeply,

go to the wells and greet your neighbours,

count the missing and the dead and be glad,

for you’ll never feel so alive

as when you are close to death.’

 

Michael J. Whelan

Published by Mark Ulyseas in a sequence of poems titled ‘A Hundred Black Horizons’ in L.E. Poetry Magazine, February 2017

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Tibnine Village, South Lebanon 1990s. Photo Michael J. Whelan

Tibnine Village, South Lebanon 1990s. Photo Michael J. Whelan

 

ROCKETS RIFLE THE NIGHT

 

Frightened villagers count the shells

that peacekeepers cannot see.

They pray on worry beads

while rockets rifle the night,

impacting near,

bracketing the fright

of worried souls

under sandbagged ground.

 

Michael J. Whelan

 

Published by Mark Ulyseas in a sequence of poems titled ‘A Hundred Black Horizons’ in L.E. Poetry Magazine, February 2017

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Harvest Time - postcard - Lebanon 1990s

Harvest Time – postcard – Lebanon 1990s

 

HARVEST TIME

 

A 155mm shell

fired from northern Israel

collides with an orchard

in south Lebanon

 

villages shake

landscapes awake

and echoes

rush the wadii

 

fear clings to grass and stone

retaliation or a violation?

we listen for the small-arms fire

but there is only crying.

 

Michael J. Whelan

 

Painting on a postcard, which I sent to my parents almost 25 years ago, titled ‘Harvest Patrol’ by Commandant J. Coates of 72 Irish Battalion UNIFIL. A postcard depicting Irish Peacekeepers protecting local Lebanese villagers during the olive harvest. This was dangerous work for them during the conflict.

Published by Mark Ulyseas in a sequence of poems titled ‘A Hundred Black Horizons’ in L.E. Poetry Magazine, February 2017

 

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UN Gear

Personal issue UN Gear – south Lebanon 1990s. Photo – Michael J. Whelan

SPINE

 

You think you hear them,

cursing through the air, searching,

bracketing where you are,

feel the impacts creeping closer in your brain

and your spine plays that game again

exaggerating your predicament.

Your mind’s a constant train

as you lay in your bunk

deciding at which point you should run.

 

Michael J. Whelan

(Incoming artillery, mortar & tank shells – Lebanon)

Published by Mark Ulyseas in a sequence of poems titled ‘A Hundred Black Horizons’ in L.E. Poetry Magazine, February 2017

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