The vines are full of blackbirds in the golden light,
No thought but to catch the dripping sweetness of the grapes.
No tangled webs they weave, of contracts signed and shipped,
Of blood and grief and men sent out to fight.
The blackbird eats until he needs no more,
Then fills the world with song without compare,
While we watch with eyes of stone or full of tears,
And count dead children washed up on the shore.
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Jane Dougherty Writes 
Oh Jane this is good.
Thanks. But terribly sad.
True but still good.
The last line really pulled me up short and made me think.
I’m glad you didn’t see it coming. I wanted a sharp contrast between the natural, mindless but innocent way of the blackbird, and the cold-blooded, appallingly unnatural way of humanity.
The effect was pretty much like a slap in the face and yes sometimes it appears that the only limitless force on Earth is Man’s inhumanity to Man
Listening to the politicians arguing the toss about refugees, and why we can’t have them over here, the lies and distortions they spout quite cynically to stir up pig ignorant voters makes me despair of mankind.
Yep… I didnt see it coming! Beautiful, stark, haunting and SAD! But then it wouldnt be a Jane Dougherty poem if it wasnt sad. 😊
I get a lot more mileage out of sad, I’m afraid.
Dont be… you do it with beauty and sensitivity
As long as the buckets that I weep don’t show too much 🙂
Just dont start another great flood…
Beautiful, but so sad. The world needs more singing blackbirds and fewer–rather–no children washed up dead ashore.
If only 😦
Oh, you having a thing with blackbirds. They sing in my heart, soul and pen. So eloquent. 🙂
Anyone who doesn’t like blackbirds must be sick to the teeth with my poems.