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 Aug 2016 MV Blake
E C Vadnais
The house, old and gray,
Sits back in a field
As houses did then,
Before cars came to compress the day.

From here I see the woods,
The river’s run, the spiral of the valley
Under clouds of rolling snow
To the road the machines come through.

I think I will stay here tonight
To keep company with the house,
And recreate the goodness of our small love,
To be ready for them when they come.

Yet I fear when they come
I will only say I came to watch
Machines destroy a house
Built with someone else’s small love.


© 2016
"Small love" or the ordinary love of ordinary people; that is, those of us not "important" enough to be noticed beyond the commonplace and who bear the burden of "progress" without protest.
In plain sight, the Peacocks ply their wearisome
Colours.  Awkwardly swaying, pompously preening,
They cry to be seen, their voices are gurgling  
And gawking.  The direction of wind is their vane.

Overhead, in the secret sky fleet wings are truth.
In the sun the searing Falcon is seeing all;
His talons turn and steal away, they are mad,  
Playful fingers— they will have their say.
 Jun 2015 MV Blake
niamh
Sand
 Jun 2015 MV Blake
niamh
I am but a grain of sand
On an expanse of shore.
Insignificant
Infinitesimal
Inconsequential
Irrelevant

Bu­t if I were to leave
The whole shoreline would change.
Perhaps in no major way
No astounding way
No amazing way

But it would change
I saw your liquid thoughts
The wicked lesson taught
As your cruel mind plays
Inside with wicked ways
As you ignored my pleas
Drowning in a million seas

I listened to your cold voice
Hearing I had no other choice
And I fell from a higher place
Burnt with the memory of your face
As you ignored my pleas
Drowning in a million seas
 May 2015 MV Blake
Leaetta May
injured a spider
trying to get it outside
begged its forgiveness
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