Here’s pottery, poetry, hear!
Whole verse shaped, moulded from the wheel,
as if the hand of God involved
whichever deity is yours,
whatever muse you choose to think.
The dirty work lies dealing clay.
that earthenware so near despair,
unforgiving, cold itself,
till terracotta scene, results,
the warming son has overcome.
As clay, so words in furnace fired,
baked bole or gault, adobe build,
the terms applied, poetic signs,
now easy ooze on rhyming line, ,
or complex rhythms, pulsing through,
the blank tuned into making sense.
When the creative mind applied,
world’s creatures share in godly plans;
despite the groans, perhaps because,
emerges holy pottery.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com