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Open Poetry #49
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Temporary
| Open Poetry #49 |
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Temporary |
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Pete_W Member Posts 185 Scotland (UK) |
Temporary A tapered cube, white slip-wash glaze, patterned on all faces, door halfway up, above the threshold ledge, my cliff dwelling, desert fired, precarious and, where others shattered theirs, we were destructive thugs, brought it home from school to rest upon the mantelpiece. Now the pot, gifted years ago, has momentarily returned, I am surprised, I cannot say it’s truly mine, ...nothing is, we only borrow, everything moves on. December 2015 |
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| © Copyright 2016 Pete_W - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
I suppose so, in one form or another...james |
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Ari Squire Member Posts 488 In The Phallus Lane |
I can't relate to a "tapered cube" just now Pete, but if I smoke a little more of this stuff, I think I'll come around to it. Loving Linny Jean is poetry. |
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Cari Member Posts 411 Englnand |
Think we have a poem on schoolboy pottery or maybe a schoolboys’ first attempt at the art. The potters’ wheel proved to be a disaster for me, most of my attempts finished on the floor ‘You have fingers with the touch of a bunch of bananas’ sighed Miss Adams. I was proud of the toasting fork that took me almost a term to make ‘Oh that’s so good darling. It could be very useful if the toaster should ever break down’ my mother said with a twinkle in her eye. Hope you got better praise with your first attempts than I did Pete. Cari. |
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Redstart Senior Member
since 2014-05-16
Posts 535 |
Reminds me of the owl I made, and I gave to my mum. It was weird in shape too, but it was somewhat like an owl. Got it back when I emptied her house. Thanks. |
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