April 24, 2012

Two poems by MH Clay


We are little men
Standing small
Against our massive concrete sprawl
Little lives
Lived in turn
But little matter to the Great Big

Little ideas
Little words
Piece them together
Little grunts and gasps
To make a big noise
To be a little big

But still little

Little time to be here
Little years to be noticed
Is no little thing to bear

On the way out
Have a little fun

Exit with a little laugh


Only the torn ones
            Those who struggle in the mind
Will take the lead

Those who pass from white to black
Endeavoring to hover in the gray
Who venture to step out
Straight into where black conceals
Where feet may hold or quickly slip away

The timid will follow
Would rather hold back
            Not walk into unknown cold
Would have the warming light against their backs
And move in steps that others took before
For these
Some guarantee of comfort must avail

But the conflicted
Each step they take
Each passing place
Brings questions
About what changes would have made
What other paths might have pulled
To weigh the reason right or left
That always must abandon one
To take the other

What implications of each choice
What love to keep, which pain to bear
And doubt to ponder

Especially the one that questions
Whether we were meant
To walk into the light instead

MH Clay is a poet and playwright residing in Dallas, TX.  An active member of the Dallas poetry scene since 2003, he has performed as a spoken word artist in venues throughout the D/FW Metroplex.  His one-act plays have been produced by various North Texas theater groups.  He is the Poetry Editor for Mad Swirl at www.madswirl.com and co-hosts Mad Swirl's monthly Open Mic every first Wednesday at the Absinthe Lounge.  Find him on FaceBook at http://facebook.com/michael.clay .


  1. "Little" pierced me with the feeling of being but an ant in a huge firmament. Lovely.

  2. Little was good and made me feel a little lost! But the first three lines of Leadership drew me in. And the last three lines made me go back to the beginning again. A circular poem indeed!

  3. Love the voice in this, such powerful sentiments!
    Bravo Michael!