Best Kiln Poems

Blackberry kisses, within the celestial starlit mornings hour....

Stirring these passions aglow, amid the flickering flames of desire ~

Caressing such thoughts of you; smouldering embers, that...

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Blackberry kisses, within the celestial starlit mornings hour....

Stirring these passions aglow, amid the flickering flames of desire ~

Caressing such thoughts of you; smouldering embers, that...

Read more of this work...

The clay goes round and round, on the Potters wheel
With gentle touches, and pressures he creates what he feels
One is a bowl for eating soup,...

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 A radiant view lingers inside my eyes,
suspended in the unknown hemisphere
of eternity, of pure innocence
where its moons and dust alight. I sense
the rocks and...

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As I stand by my coffer
Like the Ganges let my tears cleanse your soul
For I go to fight my demons 
And the cheers from the...

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Cancer, you are an artist
A prolific one at that,
For several dear ones
Have encountered your work.

Your wretched fingers as sculptors
Design imprints of faces unknown.
You smudge white,...

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RAINMAN

What is art? Is a question, focus of much conjecture
And may be the subject of many an academic lecture
“If you has to ask, you ain’t...

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Thought it would be fun to write a cute little Smarty Pants poem.
I was crazy with excitement about it, laughing with happiness gore.
I was so...

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I am a man of simple taste
An island child
And talk to my neigbors face to face
Where lush trees beguile
Birds, not man.
I have seen trees smoking...

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Written: December 02, 2023

Quote "Without birth and death, and without the perpetual transmutation of all the forms of life, the world would be static, rhythm-less,...

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Love forces, makes me write,
changes my name
with exotic murmurs
waves on a far sandy shore.

Love - can a body stand it?
Touched by an inner God,
I am...

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My stained glass image
was a ripe peach 
with spilt Zinfandel
like electric rubies
pooling around a gentle ray.
It was a colour hungering
to weave spirit out of light,
so...

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How burns the fire of life
whose fuel and air are resentment and hate?
The flames of those elements burn white-hot
yet they warm not.
Fully stoked their hearths...

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A short letter to this Hot Summer Day, 
I get it, you’re a furnace from the sky.
And you want to play chef, to bake and...

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Stone Cold Statues

Clothe the saints.  
Whosoever sees their flesh
will be damned to the great kiln.

I love their garments, the sculptor’s breath
on billowing stone, their...

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