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Posts Tagged ‘Peacekeeping’

Bunker S. Lebanon, 1994. Photo: Michael J. Whelan

 

THE SHELLING

 

In the darkness

you feel it

hunting you,

smells your blood,

vibrations pulsing

through the valley

like a beast.

 

Michael J. Whelan

 

Published recently as part of a sequence  in ‘From the Cradle of Civilization: Contemporary Arabic Poetry”, the fifth edition of Life and Legends’ http://lifeandlegends.com/cradle-civilization/

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Dark kosovo (Michael J. Whelan -2001)

BLACK BLOOD GROUND

(Kosovo)

 

Children huddled together on high ground,

barefoot in the freezing mud, no adults found.

 

The police had come like hunters

pictured victorious over their fathers.

 

Bodies hanged by distended knees

from branches of petrified trees.

 

Protecting arms reaching down

surrendering to the black blood ground.

 

 

Michael J. Whelan

 

Published recently as part of a sequence  in ‘From the Cradle of Civilization: Contemporary Arabic Poetry”, the fifth edition of Life and Legends’ http://lifeandlegends.com/cradle-civilization/

 

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Photo by Vasil Kunchev – free stock image from Pexels

PEACEFUL SUNDAY

(Haris – village in South Lebanon, 1990s)

 

‘I remember a peaceful Sunday

and an empty classroom in Haris,

and thinking how their enemies didn’t need

to teach the children of that old village

the grammar of adult hate.

 

It was written in the rubble

of the four walls of that place,

in the shattered hanging ceiling

where a rocket spelled its fate.

 

I could read the yellow markings

on the rocket’s splintered case,

I heard the teacher’s lesson in the silence

of an empty shoe.’

 Michael J. Whelan 

Published recently as part of a sequence by Kalpna Singh-Chitnis  in ‘From the Cradle of Civilization: Contemporary Arabic Poetry”, the fifth edition of Life and Legends’ http://lifeandlegends.com/cradle-civilization/

 

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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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Michael J. Whelan - Kosovo

Michael J. Whelan – Kosovo

 

 

This day 16 years ago (Christmas Day, 2000) I was serving in Kosovo and was part of a small team visiting a local family, an event that would eventually inspire this poem and photo.

The Family
(Kosovo)

There were nine of them.
Eight children under the age of ten,
existing in the rough shell
of a house with a hole in its roof
and a young mother, whose
sanity had run out.

I stood there in the bowel of
her existence,
slack-jawed in the middle
of that frozen room,
rifle under my arm.
It was Christmas time at home.

How do I sort this out?
No one can threaten hunger with bullets.

Tiny hands were in my pockets.
I gave her my watch.

Michael J. Whelan

Published in the ‘Moth’ Magazine & ‘Peacekeeper’ (Doire Press, 2016)

Photo: Michael J. Whelan – Kosovo.

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Part of the Irish Battalion area from Camp Shamrock with Hill 880 - 1990s (c)Michael J. Whelan

Part of the Irish Battalion area of operations viewed from Camp Shamrock with section of ‘Hill 880’ – 1990s (c)Michael J. Whelan

 

BATTLEFIELD

(Observations in Irish UN Operations area S. Lebanon – 1990s)

 

Early morning.

A steely mist waited

through the night

to storm the hilltop hiding

the warriors approach

in resistance and stealthy guile.

They paused at pre-ranged paces,

unleashed hate from guns,

then retreated

to whence they came

before the mist released

a battlefield, and enemies

were seen.

 

Michael J. Whelan

Part of a sequence of poems titled ‘Holding The Road’ which was published by Mark Ulyseas in Live Encounters Poetry Feast December 2016 see link below

http://liveencounters.net/live-encounters-poetry-2016/12-december-poetry-2016/3-michael-j-whelan-holding-the-road/

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Michael J. Whelan - poet, Tibnine Castle, South Lebanon 1994

  South Lebanon 1990s – (c)Michael J. Whelan

 

SPECTRE

 

There are nights when you have had enough.

Disappearing into the shadow corners of your room,

watching the fabric of grey days unfold again,

move about in strange colours on the walls,

the window open to the world,

white curtain hanging half in

half out like a trapped ghost

fighting hard to escape,

to find its former self,

go home,

sink into its own bones and flesh

and the smiles of a lover.

Then, somehow, you shut the window on those dreams

and wait for a moment while the spectre hangs by its neck

till stilled, goes silent, limp.

You switch on the light and the shadows disappear,

courage fills you up for one more day.

 

There are nights still when I remember the grey days

but in my house the windows have blinds.

 

Michael J. Whelan

 

Part of a sequence of poems titled ‘Holding The Road’ which was published by Mark Ulyseas in Live Encounters Poetry Feast December 2016 see link below

http://liveencounters.net/live-encounters-poetry-2016/12-december-poetry-2016/3-michael-j-whelan-holding-the-road/

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