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Colm Feb 2017
It's the little things in life
Which can slowly crush the soul
The will to fight, the old desires
Ever changing and growing older

Be it in the misunderstanding
Or the mistreatment of others
Or the values to which you so preciously hold

I find its better to take the time
To reshape the clay
Rather than to let yourself be bothered
By the deconstruction of your most beloved mold
Some things are better left in pieces
the craftsman bought
his piece of clay to life
but ye mold was one that
would bring much strife

the clay just didn't behave
in the appropriate way
always it acted like
a grotesque monstrous play

on discovering the clay's
fault ridden side
the creator flung it down
******* a curbside

never again did he use
that model of mold
as its unsound traits weren't
ones he'd behold
Danielle Tuffley Dec 2016
I am clay.
I have already been put in a kiln and fired.
I am no longer soft.
you cannot mold me into something I'm not,
But you can take me and paint me.
Put me on display.
Show me off.
dress me up and fill me with love,
but whatever you do
don't drop me,
because
I am clay.
I will break
and if I break,
Pieces will be missing
Some will be cracked
some might be rough around the edges and
The paint might chip away.
I am clay
The voice Oct 2016
How creative can you be?
How dramatic does a piece of work have to be
to be worth your time?
How many times have you actually tried to go out of your way and experience molding your own definition of creativity
Clay
Ceramics
The texture, smooth or rough
The form, tall or short skinny of more rounded
The texture, allows you to think and concentrate
nothing else matters when your are planning your piece
The form, allows to risk and try new things
Nothing else matters when you are actually trying
That problem you have before you enter the room
stays at the door maybe it travels with you to the chair,
but as soon as your hands feel the clay and begin to form
the solutions begin to form
Clay is such an easy struggle
You have many decisions to make
How much clay?
How many details?
How many utensils?
How much time?
But that last one is actually the least, no time is good
spend years trying to figure out what you want to make
and then make it in a second
or spend a second figuring it out
and spend those years making it.
Taking your mind out of that thing that happened earlier in the day,
What was it again?
Yup, it was not as fun as clay.
You've build it, you've fired it, not paint it
What colors?
What pattern?
What resemblance will you give it?
One? More than One? maybe way to many,
or too alike of colors.
Black and white,
Wait, what was that?
Ohhhh, remember that problem earlier?
This time actually remember, because it isn't just a problem
It is a problem with a solution.
Now we know what to do!
It doesn't have to be clay, but I personally love it. I hope you find a good free class, there are many out there if you just look closely.
mickaela Sep 2016
Consulting with my Sculptor
I critiqued His use of clay
To create my well carved features
In such a careful way:

My eyes are held in hollowed
Holes of hardened clay
Though the hue be not hallowed
They’re heavenly all the same.

This nose be a beautiful bridge
Baked by bronze- brown clay
Unbroken by blows for blood
Breeze brings sweet bouquets

Mighty words are measured
From a mouth made of clay
I mix at my leisure
My mouth is untamed

While my hips are not the widest
Of Wonders won with clay
While my waist is not the finest
Wand whittled for display

My frame is  flawless and free
Formed by flowing clay
Flimsy words find their way to me
And fall on futile way

As I am an amazing art piece
And I am allowed to say
I acknowledge that my Artist
Has a way with clay
I accidentally posted a poem, which I was worried would be too offending and dumb. I'm a little embarrassed, heh heh. Even though only 5 people saw it. But that's a lot, on hellopoetry.
So, to redeem myself, I'm posting this poem of self love and acceptance. I wish I could feel like the persona, you know? Writing it, I did feel a little body positive for my own self, but the feeling didn't linger.Oh well, hope you like it!
Oh, and thanks for reading <3
Erin Suurkoivu Sep 2016
You are beautiful and I am not.
We are the habits of our forefathers.

We can choose to forget them, let them
Drain away like sand through glass,

Distant dust of history. As much as we try
To remember, desire is stronger than memory.

Sometimes I turn to sculpt soft clay,
Loose and stark in my hands.

And then I abandon the mess. I should keep
My fingertips stained red for effort.

I remember dreaming a vision:
Heroine of my own story,

Walking the grey beach in winter,
Projected far into the future when I might realize it.

Clay does not sculpt itself.
Prayers go unanswered. Here

I dwell in my own lit house,
Multiple yellow lights

Floating in the dark, mirror for
The starry night that I might see.  

We’re the only species with
Wings on our feet. We’ve molded

Paper into something precious.
Currency of kings. Gold origami.

Honeyed words remain my nectar.
Rome is a daylong process that is for ever.

To shape is a practice
Known by time and being,

That I may become a living embodiment.
That I might find grace in a raised arm, a bent leg.

That I might see myself through a filter of love.
That I might remember there are no

Comparisons.
That we are beautiful for our very selves.
From my poetry collection, "Blood for Honey", available at Lulu.com and Amazon.
Pauline Morris Aug 2016
In my heart burns the brightest fire
Keeping the liquid rubies running through my veins
My scars shine the purest gold and silver
My tears the deepest
Sapphire blue
But my feet are made of clay
SøułSurvivør Jul 2016
I am but a lump of clay
Within the Potter's Hands
Help me to be such today
Help me understand

I am plastic. Malleable.
From the roots of stumps
For the Master's Hands available
Although I have my lumps!

He has to pound and knead me
Sprinkle me to moist refine
Mould me in my body
Mould me in my mind

Mould me in my heart
Mould me in my soul
So I won't break apart
So I can be bold!
I can use my art
To have my story told...

Sculpt me then Lord Jesus!
Do whatever it will take
Throw me on your wheel
With Force enough to break

My own thoughts and wishes
For vanity they are
My love for fame and riches
Which can only twist and scar

My love for things of "beauty"
Of worldly surmise
Give me a sense of Duty
To be useful in your eyes

You rose me from the muck and mire
You scooped me from the slime
How can I so then aspire?
Be in myself sublime?

Death, he has his clutches
This assuredly I know.
And I am but ashes

Dust to dust I go.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/30/2016
My kingdom must go
Before Your Kingdom come.

-
R M Jun 2016
Paint by number
your colors
just like everyone else.
But do not color
outside the lines.
There's no place for
extraordinary.

Shove the clay
of yourself
into a mold that
doesn't fit.
But do not dare look
for another one.
There's no place for
individuality.

Write out the story
of your cliché life
just like all the others.
But do not make
any revisions.
There's no room for
originality.
Yume Blade Jun 2016
forever & ever in our minds
Champion....................................................­....
Aventuring in danger....................................
Strong as a lion................................................
Scramble­ and going On...................................
Inhumanly Patient ...........................................
Unforgettable person.........................................
Searching for a happy life.................................

Climbing all the steps............................................
Livin' as fast as he can...........................................
Animating everything aroud him.........................
Youngest to win the heavyweight championship
.
.
.
RIP
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