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Mollie Grant Apr 2016
I want to know
what it feels like
for reconciliation
to wash over
my fault lines.
Take my cracks
and paint them
with gold.
Let me glimmer,
                   gleam,
                           and glow
redemption.
Illuminate my mistakes
and let my skeleton
frame out a museum
of triumph
Mahdiya Patel Apr 2016
Art
I am honored to have been merged with such a well crafted human being
Francie Lynch Mar 2016
The story teller writes
For a naked character
On a bare stage.
The one character,
One line play.
Profound, all encompassing;
A brief run,
But a blockbuster
With opening nights
In all the capital cities.

The visualist
Could use one brush stroke,
One lump of unmolded clay,
An unchiseled stone,
Weathered driftwood
Or a piece of glass
To display in the great museums
For our interpretation
Of the exposed truth.

One note could orchestrate
On string, wind or skin,
And the composition would be complete.
The maestro could bow and walk;
No encore could repeat.

I want one line of verse
To embelish my yearnings;
To explain the cosmos,
The meaning and crux
Of this place,
Including us.
Were they thinking
That you can get some good news about this one
is
A blossom
a blossom
intrinsically linked to
tree roots trunks - petals -
with or without you?

Were you
You
Remembered
Passing your past
Where the - within'you

becomes more difficult than the one you can see

Wraped gently around
Aroused

Whenever you're ready for I
Am not sure about glances

Why or how or when
Could've found and lost impossibility
To bond deeper than thou
Fa~Do
Cream
Sounds

Beautifully lurking around
Any corner of this honey dew
Dripping on every
Sweet corner of this
Earth ~ molasess and maple
Pancakes ~ perfectly
Aligning
With another
Sunrise
Seemen home toasted
Creamy Cheese

Wee
Bee's
Busy
Pollen

How To Bow Properly?
To awareness~ To automatically repaired
Spell checker's wicked authority
Abundant celebration
As passing days
Crowning
Drowning
Feasting

Days
Crafting
Themself
Into
The last invisible
Youthful
Appearance of the darkling
Fireflies Beaming
Devotion
I
To stars up above ~
Many times un~authorised
Molders of our dreams;

Sky high and heavens
White blue sync with
Ebony and Ivory
Imagined by
Imeccable Space
Poetess
Tryst Jul 2014
The proudest thing I think I've ever done,
Such artistry, such skill I have attained!
The semi-glaze reflecting of the sun,
The richness of the blue, so lightly stained;
So perfect is the pointed pouring spout
That sits upon a rim of gold emboss,
And proudly do the handles both stick out,
Exquisite is the painted Celtic cross;
I toiled and slaved for oh so many years,
My fingers ever wet and moist with clay,
But now at last I'm free of all the fears
And doubts that clouded me until this day;
        I know you'll all be very pleased for me,
        So thanks, my friends, on Hello Pottery!
Emma May 2014
The leaves are cracked
They lie like pieces of pottery
Drying, baking in the sun
An orange is suspended in the sky
Round heat floats down
Round heat... Uhm... I don't know don't judge me it seems poetic I don't know what I'm doing.
Anonymous May 2014
I am a tea cup delicate and intricate.
There are beautiful patterns covering my surface,
but if you look closer you'll see the cracks.
Every time you fill me up just to leave me empty again,
those cracks grow.
They grow and they grow and they grow,
and eventually they grow so big that I am no longer a cup.
I am just pieces of a cup, chipped and broken.
And you, having left me like this, having caused my utter and complete destruction, will not see the value in my remains.

But someone will, and when they do they'll help piece me back together understanding that the gold they use to mend my wounds only adds to my beauty.
Matthew Mar 2014
A vessel for water
hardened soil      
ceramic broken  
forever spoiled.  

But gather with care,
these grounded bits,
and paint upon them
as a soul canvas

— The End —