Poems about Peace
Poems about Peace
Some people fight for peace
Those terms are in opposition;
Some just can't stop their quarrels
It is though a contradiction.
Are we stopping bombs
Or fighting for a cause;
Or do we crave a quiet life
Free from all these wars.
Mankind has had very few days
When the world was all at peace;
They just don't seem to gather
That we are all of the same race.
We're on this planet and it's our home
It's where we all belong;
The oxygen, food and water
Are now going for a song.
We just won't share them
Just like selfish kids;
Put a price upon their heads
We'll all soon be on the skids.
Whether God or not
Who gave us all these things;
We need them to live at all
It ain't over till the fat lady sings!
So come on lets give peace a chance
Trouble is with that;
Honesty and trust are main parts
That's where the problem's really at.
Mother Theresa said it all
We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.
God is the friend of silence.
See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence...
We need silence to be able to touch souls.
Then we might actually be able to hear each other!
This is the field where the battle did not happen,
where the unknown soldier did not die.
This is the field where grass joined hands,
where no monument stands,
and the only heroic thing is the sky.
Birds fly here without any sound,
unfolding their wings across the open.
No people killed – or were killed – on this ground
hollowed by the neglect of an air so tame
that people celebrate it by forgetting its name.
Poems about Peace
The End and the Beginning
After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won't straighten themselves up, after all.
Someone has to push the rubble
to the sides of the road,
so the corpse-laden wagons can pass.
Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
and bloody rags.
Someone must drag in a girder
to prop up a wall.
Someone must glaze a window,
rehang a door.
Photogenic it's not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.
Again we'll need bridges
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.
Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls how it was.
and nods with unsevered head.
Yet others milling about
already find it dull.
From behind the bush
sometimes someone still unearths
and carries them to the garbage pile.
Those who knew
what was going on here
must give way to
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.
In the grass which has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out,
blade of grass in his mouth,
gazing at the clouds.
One morning he wakes—
realizes he has the gift
and grasps that it takes more courage
to look a soldier in the eye
place a flower in the barrel
of his rifle
than it does to shoot him.
Monody for Peace
War-mongers believe in hawks
who swoop and scream munitions
through their scorched carcasses.
Jerusalem bleeds her sons
oil thick and flames to skies
as mothers mourn their deathdays.
Hybrid of life, politics,
and greed whittle the hunter
to bead at hawk’s spry head.
I pledge allegiance to lie
face down with bullets who graze
red, white, and blue gangrene flesh.
Ground gazes to the grey-blue
searching for thaumaturgies
who breathe life to civilians.
A phoenix ceases to rise.
all that is left are ashes,
a fleet reminder of peace.
Poems about Peace
Part of Winston Churchills Famous Iron Curtain Speech
I spoke earlier of the Temple of Peace.
Workmen from all countries must build that temple. If two of the workmen know each other particularly well and are old friends, if their families are inter-mingled, and if they have "faith in each other's purpose, hope in each other's future and charity towards each other's shortcomings" - to quote some good words I read here the other day - why cannot they work together at the common task as friends and partners? Why cannot they share their tools and thus increase each other's working powers? Indeed they must do so or else the temple may not be built, or, being built, it may collapse, and we shall all be proved again unteachable and have to go and try to learn again for a third time in a school of war, incomparably more rigorous than that from which we have just been released.
The dark ages may return, the Stone Age may return on the gleaming wings of science, and what might now shower immeasurable material blessings upon mankind, may even bring about its total destruction. Beware, I say; time may be short. Do not let us take the course of allowing events to drift along until it is too late. If there is to be a fraternal association of the kind I have described, with all the extra strength and security which both our countries can derive from it, let us make sure that that great fact is known to the world, and that it plays its part in steadying and stabilising the foundations of peace.
There is the path of wisdom.
Prevention is better than cure.
The 10 commandments are not a multiple choice.
The human heart, at whatever age,
opens to the heart that opens in return.
Let's start with what we can be thankful for, and get our mind into that vibration, and then watch the good that starts to come, because one thought leads to another thought..
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