Pot
What hand
turned the wheel
threw this pot
shaped the clay?
What eyes
noticed it first
upon the shelf
picked it up?
What heart
fondled the bow
cherished the thought
embraced the gift?
What lives
put it to use
poured the wine
savored the moment?
What hand
moved in anger
threw this pot
shattered the clay?
poem by Mary Havran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Be clay
Don’t be half-hearted about this –
be clay.
You know all about clay –
be clay.
Humble, submissive, reverent –
awaiting the Potter’s hands.
Enjoy that humility, that surrender –
feel already so near God.
Now the wheel begins to turn –
the Potter is here!
Feel His hands – the more you feel them,
the more you know the love in them.
Now you’re being shaped:
turned on the wheel like a dervish turns,
you’re becoming like that tall column of stillness,
rising from the centre of the whirling skirt;
still; in the memory of the Potter’s hands;
you recognise yourself who waited for you.
*
[leaning on the poems of Hafiz]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Broken Pitcher
Accursed be the hour of that sad day
The careless potter put his hand to thee,
And dared to fashion out of common clay
So pure a shape as thou didst seem to me.
An idle boy, when vintage was begun,
I passed and saw thy beauty for my sin,
And poured unheedingly till it was done
The red wine of my love's first gathering in.
And thou, ah! thou didst look at me and smile
To see me give with such ungrudging hand,
As taking all to thy dear heart, the while
It only fell upon the thirsty sand.
Sad pitcher, thou wast broken at the well,
Ere yet the shepherd's lip had tasted thine.
A god had lost in thee his hydromel,
As I have wasted my poor wealth of wine.
Yet, wherefore wast thou made so fair a thing?
Or why of clay, whose fabric rightly were
Of finest gold, new--fashioned for a king,
And framed by some divine artificer?
I will not curse thee, thou poor shape of clay,
That thou art other than thou seemed to be,
Yet I will break thee, that no passer may
Unthinking break another heart on thee.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stone
The days have passed, nights are gone,
I'm still in love with a stone,
The seasons changed, the clay too came,
I still hold it with no moan,
The clay comes to me in so many shapes,
Wants me to hold it, whatever it may take,
But clay can hurt me, clay may fake,
Even if it's clay, I have a heart it can break,
The season may change,
The clay may go,
Slowing my heart beat,
All time low,
Stone is hard,
Stone is black,
Stone is emotionless,
Doesn't stab at back,
The clay, the stone, both make me die,
But if a stone does, even the clay may cry...
and I'll never ask why...
It's better to live with a stone,
not clay,
Clay is soft, but it hurts,
which is not the stone's way.....
poem by Apurva Jain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Peace Proposal
Said General Clay to General Gore really must we fight this silly war
To kill and die in such a bore I quite agree said General Gore
Said General Gore to General Clay we could go to the beach today
And have some icecream on the way a grand idea said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore we'll build sand castles on the shore
Said General Gore we'll splash and play let's leave right now said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay but what if the sea's closed today
And what if the sand's been blown away the dreadful thought said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay I've always feared the ocean's spray
And we may drown it's true we may it chills my blood said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore my bathin' suit is slightly tore
We better go on with our war I quite agree said General Gore
The General Clay chanrged General Gore as bullets flew and cannons roared
And now at last there is no more of General Clay or General Gore
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Generals
Said General Clay to General Gore,
'Oh must we fight this silly war?
To kill and die is such a bore.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'We could go to the beach today
And have some ice cream on the way.'
'A grand idea,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'But what if the sea is closed today?
And what if the sand's been blown away?'
'A dreadful thought,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'I've always feared the ocean's spray,
And we may drown!' 'It's true, we may.
It chills my blood,' said General Clay.
Said General Clay to General Gore,
'My bathing suit is slightly tore.
We'd better go on with our war.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Then General Clay charged General Gore
As bullets flew and cannons roared.
And now, alas! there is no more
Of General Clay or General Gore.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mr. Sheets
The Devil stood before the gate
Of Heaven. He had a single mate:
Behind him, in his shadow, slunk
Clay Sheets in a perspiring funk.
'Saint Peter, see this season ticket,'
Said Satan; 'pray undo the wicket.'
The sleepy Saint threw slight regard
Upon the proffered bit of card,
Signed by some clerical dead-beats:
'Admit the bearer and Clay Sheets.'
Peter expanded all his eyes:
''Clay Sheets?'-well, I'll be damned!' he cries.
'Our couches are of golden cloud;
Nothing of earth is here allowed.
I'll let you in,' he added, shedding
On Nick a smile-'but not your bedding.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Three Eternities
Lo, thou and I, my love,
And the sad stars above,-
Thou and I, I and thou!
Ah could we lie as now
Ever and aye, my love,
Hand within hand, my love,
Heart within heart, my dove,
Through night and day
For ever!
Lo, thou and I, my love,
Up in the sky above,
Where the sun makes his home
And the gods are, my love,
One day may wander from
Star unto star, my love,-
Soul within soul, my love,
Yonder afar
For ever!
Lo, thou and I, my love,
Some time shall lie, my love,
Knowing not night from day,
Knowing not toil from rest,-
Breast unto breast, my love,
Even as now for aye:
Clay within clay, my love,
Clay within clay
For ever!
poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Off the Shelf
One fine day someone,
came into the store,
and took us off the shelf,
they threw their money down,
We were tossed into a bag,
so dark was it in there,
suddenly we heard lots
of people talking,
We were inside a smoked
filled room, this man pulled
us out of the bag, he then
opened our package we
were in, took us out,
He threw us onto
the table, after
placing money there,
'Darn it, he said,
I rolled snake eyes'.
He was so mad, he threw
us in the wastebasket,
and not the table again,
so that was where,
we stayed until the
next day, when some
kind person took us
out and said 'Hey,
I found me some dice'.
So that's what we are!
(4-6-07)
I Dont Paint Myself Into Corners
(rebecca lynn howard/trey bruce)
It took a while for me to see things as they were
In the light of truth
It wasnt you,it was me
I let myself get used to drowning in the hurt
Against the wall
Whod of thought,it was me
From there I couldnt even look over my shoulder
I kicked down all the walls and started all over
And I dont paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
When you left you left me with no other choice at all
But to sink
To my knees,and cry
I never knew just how far a soul could fall
Like a rock
I couldnt stop,didnt try
I locked myself behind shades of misery
But when I let you go,i set myself free
And I dont paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay
I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door
I dont paint myself into corners anymore
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Won't You Celebrate With Me
won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my one hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.
poem by Lucille Clifton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Vessel
The Vessel was a thing of clay.
the sort you use, then throw away.
It was worth little, of itself,
but that vessel was filled with Love.
It poured out Love upon the Living
Free and selfless was its giving.
When at last the clay was dry,
it was the vessels time to die.
It shattered on the sands of time,
now half a lifetime gone from mine.
The vessel was my Dad you see-
and by his gifts I was set free.
I wept the day he met his end-
will I ever see his like again?
God willing on a higher plane
I'll get to call again his name.,
but if my journey ends in dust,
he taught me how as all men must.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Coral Island
His arms were round a chest of oaken wood,
It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed
An awful weight. After a while he stood
And I stole near to him.—His white eyes gleamed
As he peeped secretly about; he laid
The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew
A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade
Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew
In all directions underneath a tree,
And when the hole was deep he put the box
Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly,
Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox
He crept among the trees.... I went next day
To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way.
poem by James Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I thought about that the other day after I went to the grocery store and had to sign fifteen autographs before leaving. On one hand, it's just so flattering. On the other hand, sometimes it would be nice to get the bread and leave, you know?
quote by Clay Aiken
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Bird of Jesus
IT was pure indeed,
The air we breathed in, the light we saw,
I and my brother, when we played that day,
Or piped to one another; then there came
Two young lads of an age with one another,
And with us two, and these two played with us,
And went away.
Each had a bearing that was like a prince's,
Yet they were simple lads and had the kindness
Of our own folk lads simple and unknowing:
Then, afterwards, we went to visit them.
Theirs was a village that was not far off,
But out of reach towards elbow, not towards hand:
And what was there were houses
Houses and some trees
And it was like a place within a fold.
We found the lads,
And found them still as simple and unknowing,
And played with them: we played outside the stall
Where worked the father of the wiser lad
Not brothers were the boys, but cousins' children.
There was a pit:
We brought back clay and sat beside the stall,
And made birds out of clay; and then my brother
Took up his bird and flung it in the air:
His playmate did as he,
And clay fell down upon the face of clay.
And then I took
The shavings of the board the carpenter
Was working on, and flung them in the air,
And watched them streaming down.
There would be nought to tell
Had not the wiser of the lads took up
The clay he shaped: a little bird it was;
He tossed it from his hand up to his head;
The bird stayed in the air.
O what delight we had
To see it fly and pause, that little bird,
Sinking to earth sometimes, and sometimes rising
As though to fly into the very sun;
At last it spread out wings and flew, and flew,
Flew to the sun.
I do not think
That we played any more, or thought of playing,
For every drop of blood our bodies held
Was free and playing, free and playing then.
Four lads together on the bench we sat:
Nothing was in the open air around us,
And yet we thought something was there for us
A secret, charmed thing.
So we went homeward; by soft ways we went
That wound us back to our familiar place.
Some increase lay upon the things we saw:
I'll speak of grasses, but you'll never know
What grass was there; words wither it and make it
Like to the desert children's dream of grass;
Lambs in the grass, but I will not have shown you
What fleece of purity they had to show;
I'll speak of birds, but I will not have told you
How their song filled the heart; and when I speak
Of him, my brother, you will never guess
How we two were at one!
Even to our mother we had gained in grace!
poem by Padraic Colum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mistaken Identity
I could see her
Behind the glass doors
Unaware of my presence
She was busy in her work
To seek her attention
I waved at her
Threw small pebbles
At the door
So engrossed she was
Did not pay
Any heed to my efforts
I was dejected
Did not know
What more to do
In frustration
I picked a bigger pebble
Threw it with all the might
It banged against the door
Shattered the glass
With a big sound
She heard the sound
Opened the door
Yelled at me
Who are you?
And
What do you want?
I anxiously looked at her
To my surprise
She was her twin sister
Without waiting more
I ran away from there
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Clay Thoughts!
there are some hard truths,
we often fail to believe
rather we succeed to forget
we are made of clay....
yes clay, i mean it
molded to be a wonder called human
still u feel reluctant to walk barefoot
feeling the mud itself is dirty for you! !
i am no exception
the extreme of identity crisis
the thought that disturbs u and me
we are clay
poem by Felix Lama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Music in a Web
I'm falling
but my eyes are open
I am like glass
let the music flow
echo around us
let waves of pain be shattered
sight and sound sharpened
my heart whispers to me
you have shed your last tear
your voice embraced by my ear
my eyes search for you
alone and unloved, is how the Raven died
so catch me
tangle your words into a web
catch me.
Yes if only, if only
the moon called to me
bathed by the moonlight, I would stand
yours and mine
hand in hand.
poem by Dakota Ellerton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Clay Woman
Clay woman, baked too long
Stone cold, deep red, stand
Clay woman, heat too high,
Brittle with the remnant demand
Too long in the kiln
Not set at bake but sear
Scorched beauty remains,
But not a breath be near
Can't breathe too hard,
Clay woman may turn to dust
Can't look too long
For clay woman may combust,
And above all else,
Do not touch her heart,
Her back will break,
Her wounds will smart,
Clay woman, baked too long
All hope and joy abstains,
Clay woman, heat too high
Can my tears salvage my remains?
poem by Eowyn Aurora
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Cats In The Cradle (De Ja' Vu)
I sing to you a sweet lullabye-
And rock your cares away...
A beautiful destiny awaits your hand,
Shaped and formed from Godly Clay...
Your heart, it must lead you-
To the place you need to be-
Totally entwined in the string-
Passed from your hand, to me...
What a game it is, my sweet-
Endearingly, i nurture your heart-
Together, We are Forever-
Very soon, Nevermore, to part...
You are my Dream Walking-
You are arriving later than planned-
But anything worthwhile obtaining,
Is worth the Hour Glasses, ceasless sand...
Gentle but sweet surrender-
I am nothing, when not with you-
Together, we make, Forever a Reality-
In A Past Life We Already Knew!
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Threw It All Away
I once held her in my arms,
She said she would always stay.
But I was cruel,
I treated her like a fool,
I threw it all away.
Once I had mountains in the palm of my hand,
And rivers that ran through evry day.
I must have been mad,
I never knew what I had,
Until I threw it all away.
Love is all there is, it makes the world go round,
Love and only love, it cant be denied.
No matter what you think about it
You just wont be able to do without it.
Take a tip from one whos tried.
So if you find someone that gives you all of her love,
Take it to your heart, dont let it stray,
For one thing thats certain,
You will surely be a-hurtin,
If you throw it all away.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!