Form

Warm, wet clay Molded by flexible fingers. Hands softly shaping, Form coming to life.

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Daver Austin

Date: 10/20/2014 10:59:00 AM

Like your showing love of making things with your hands. Me too. Congrats on the selection. Love, daver

James Fraser

Date: 4/1/2010 4:51:00 PM

As Carolyn commented, this is one scene i would love to re-enact, so many things can be created >> James

Daniel Cheeseman

Date: 4/1/2010 2:13:00 PM

Yes I liked this Francine thanks for your kind visit Daniel

Susan Palli

Date: 4/1/2010 12:58:00 PM

Excellent!

Carolyn Devonshire

Date: 4/1/2010 11:58:00 AM

Are you a sculptor/pottery maker, Francine? You poem reminded me of the famous love scene at the pottery wheel in Ghost. I can almost hear the Righteous Brothers singing along as you mold the clay. Enjoyed! Love, Carolyn

Daver Austin

Date: 4/1/2010 6:48:00 AM

I'll tell you what the form is. It's Dickensian...bringing the inanimate to life. Enjoyed mucho. Love, daver

Jessica Arteaga

Date: 3/31/2010 11:51:00 PM

the usage of words, to describe, the feeling of touch our fingers send to our minds, is rather everyday, but still yet exciting. Wet, hot, hard, is rather enticing. And to enjoy this everyday sense, we make up new things to keep our selves sent; to keep filled of the feeling of so many touches, art was created to fill our joy clutches.