A ship passed to sea
in sunlight on cloudless water
though ruffled sea-foam trailed behind,
and by chance I saw it before it was no more
forevermore gone to the open sea
away from me
who made it be
by observing it
pass through the sea.
© E. C. Vadnais
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
Young girls, there were two, in boots, pink and blue,
standing near the cold, angry sea,
Shouting over the wind,
giggling at the sea and the world of us,
and dreaming of life to come.
And for all that surrounded them
they were all that was good and precious and worthy
to be held as shining.
And though we will fail them and they us
we should not forget them, diminish them
for they were all we will ever be on that day
When the cold, green Atlantic raged before their play.
© E. C. Vadnais
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
A poison is in the land
without antidote
we wait the effect.
May God bless America
in this her poisonous state.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
Because your life is short
I thought you should know
about lawn bowling and polite clapping
by women in summer dresses and white gloves
and men in white shirts with club ties
and black trousers who we called the other
and who stood on utter green grass that day
and played the game with dignity
in summer’s late perfect light,
and all was well,
all was very well
the day before we went to war
and killed them all.
I thought you should know
because your life is so short.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
At a window that looked to the edge of the sea,
within the home that sheltered her,
she perhaps saw me when I was callous
and need not care for her or the land or the sea.
Now I think I will soon join her
and perhaps then have time to speak to her
of the good earth and cleansing sea
and explain what she has finally come to mean to me.
Yet if there was a god I would need not explain.
If there was a god, protection of her would have sprung
for in goodness she was supreme.
Tell me why was her love for her god not rewarded?
Why was she left to suffer? Leave me.
Let me rage, fill the air curse to curse
for what of this god, this god whose back was turned
what do I owe him save my fury in equal measure to her love.
Look there. Her grave. Pitiful thing.
Who would know that the best of our lot lies below.
Build here a monument colossal in scope and size,
raise it to goodness, patience and forgiving love.
Hold. It does no good. Be deaf to a fool.
Surely I knew by having her her god was also there.
Then I cease here for my curse echoes to her.
Ah, but it is not fair — I live, she does not.
© 2016
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
Since boyhood came the sound.
At eight in a field of snow
Under a sky blue and high
I heard the sound.
At sixteen after love’s embrace
On sheets stiff and white
I heard the sound.
At twenty-two in a place green and lush
Under skies filled with war
Above all I heard the sound.
At thirty-two in early morning light
As I comforted my infant son
I heard the sound.
The sound of all the world trying to fall in love.
© 2016
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC
You expect it to happen.
Oh, how much you want it to happen.
But because you are not blessed
It will not happen to you.
It will happen to him.
And all the good in it will flow to him.
Without plan, without intention, without effort
He will gain at your loss.
So listen: Dance with the dream
For it holds everything you gave up for him.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
I hear you seek to be;
To be without cant;
To be free of the weakness in yourself.
It is not enough just to be —
Hear what I say —
The acts in the shadow do not allow you to be.
You see, men who are
Make by right the claim to be
And stand in place for all to see.
As some few lead,
Most must follow.
Folly it is for you to make believe.
I see — draw the weapon,
Rail against your fate.
The quest answered thus.
Yes, ****** home knife, gun, bomb.
You have the right after all endured.
By this act you will be — infamously.
© 2016
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
In the summer we fished the lake
in the high country where the sky touches the land
and the water of the lake is black because of its depth
and cold because of the mountains
and the fish in it are big and fight hard
and taste wonderful when cooked over a campfire.
We slept under the stars then
and fell asleep naming the constellations,
and during the night the wolves came down to look at us.
We were not afraid of them because we were invincible
back then and the world bent to our strength.
In the morning we bathed in the lake and then fished again
and all day you could see the line zipping through the soft pure air
and the plug going through the water and the fish coming in to it
and the sound of them fighting us.
We didn’t talk then, just fought the fish
and listened to that world vanishing around us.
© 2016
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 5:07 PM UTC
He said to me he had a wife and child
and one day he just grew tired,
left them he did, but couldn't say why.
On the road he met others like me and
around campfires we looked at the stars
and laughed at the towns we had seen.
And you know we always knew our freedom would end:
age would catch us, animals eat us, the cold ****** us.
George, that was his name, said he had a plan for it
but of course it wasn't sane, though we listened to it good.
Then one day on a high bridge I saw him go,
arms and legs spread wide as if in flight,
the splash so small I thought him right,
he had suffered enough to get the end right.
© 2016
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC