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vrijdag 17 januari 2014

Snapshot poem: Village in the valley


Rich mansions and fences, large dogs to protect
and small men as tourists snapshotting the little church
but just from the outside; the door locked
because of thieves steeling its statues


Farmers on their land gardening their crops
for food; looking sheep numb like cows
and hope for a bit of sunshine to color their wool
Along the river the banks of grass; so many want
to live here, more then a village can have


Or shelter, but they do not see the smell
when summer sun burns the water
and the rats out of their holes...
They only see the picture when the level is low,
before the drowning of heavy rainfall in the south


Farms cascading along shore at both sides
Water that floods land pleasures in the right season
But delivery is not always like it should;
running high above the thresholds; sink the kitchen
and washes TV, radio, everyone's lives


And there are no boats for such a small river;
just trunks of fallen trees and isles of grass
pulled from the land, where there was no water
the day before; just a lovely stream
meant for tourists to watch a romance

of a small village embedded in water




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