Short Potters Poems

Potters knead clay like a poet needs rhyme 
trimmed to form, to be honored by fire
to much air weakens the clay
honing of the word is strength
with a heartfelt touch art garnishes time...

Read More

Words are a garden
where Poets can grow

Each verse a thesaurus
of phrases to know

A greenhouse of riches
a potters delight

A bounty of wisdom
—a harvest of light

(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)...

Read More

A potter kneaded galaxies into shape
slapped on a thin layer of gravitational glaze
baked them in star ovens of varying degrees
lay sparkle to planet skin so all could see 
lay sheen on the dream so dreamers could dream.
The potter's wheel eternally spinning....

Read More

5-7-5-7-7

Glorious vessel
Spirit resides as faith grows
Glory shines as light
in the eyes, that's willingly 
Molded by the potters hands


For the sanctuary/T(h)anka contest
***Kindred spirits, house the comforter
Won ninth place in the contest sponsored by Chris Aetner!!...

Read More

From the potters wheel to the kiln, hot
All for form, function and ugly not
A work of art must involve some pain
The work itself must vanity, not feign

The creator lives in his creation, good
The creation at times is proud and rude
Creator and creation joined at the wrist
Dare not, to the former, raise your fist...

Read More

I trudge there with leaden feet
Carrying invisible burdens
The perfect place to pause and ponder
And water my fear garden
You can keep your stones and daggers
And your thirty pieces
For I am my own Judas
Handing me over to me
Follow me if you like
But there's really nothing to see
Just me
Plowing my potters field...

Read More

One more Christmas passing by...
In the potters wheel of god

When the stars of hope galloping us on the path of devine 
Gifts,sweets ...showered tremendously from lovely hands 

Though his beard was glazed by winter's frost
Compassionate eyes told me silently 

"Let us bask.... in love  ".


Happy Christmas in Advance....

Read More

People are neither good nor bad.
We are both; to different degrees,
At different times, with different people.

Some feel harder than others.
If they are wise they become artists,
Musicians, poets, potters, weavers, decorators, hair stylists.

They cannot help it.
Their feelings have to ooze out somewhere in a creative way....

Read More

Ripples of the lake whispered
To become the cloud to kiss the sky
But clouds desired to come down
To be in the flow of the ocean.

Little baby in the cradle
Wished to crawl across the lawn
But old aunt dreamt to be in the cradle
To cherish it again.

Desires are floating aroud the skull
But potters wheel of time
Riding us on the same round....

Read More

I pick up little treasures of poetic swirls
like heavy cream on a sundae, here at poetry soup.

Rich meaty soup, a bean mix from around the world
Seasoned with exotic herbs from many nations

Shaped in crocks from potters hands uniquely molded
Ladled and tasted across the ocean

Shared and savored
Favored and cherished

Poetry soup friends!!...

Read More

Thirty pieces he took in vain;
the devil's price;  a soul to gain.
A kiss not warm but deadly cold,
for the only one death could not hold.
Look, my children, you will see,
the traitor hangs from a red bud tree.
Bloated body from head was torn;
better for him, he'd not been born.
A moments riches all for naught;
a potters field was all he bought....

Read More

I love a night of storm
When face is slapped
by wind rush drops
and the darkest greys
rush by
like
a z
zo
zoe
zoet
zoetr
zoetro
zoetrop
zoetrope
thats turned too fast
Grumble stumbles over hills afar
Sky filled with radiant
Potters scar
Splatters and growls
hide the nigh time
norms
Tasting rain soaked wind
Body surf the waves
Detaching from the day
Peace within the storm...

Read More

older still is blue than green.

 born to late by the spin told doctor
whose cobweb logic holds a few 
 silk cocoon secrets.

re-entry of the womb...

 with a little scattered potters soil.

 seperation of all rooting 
tomorrows.

yet older still is the turnip fist than 
the bloody knuckle.

 scibbled names on rocks 
who cannot remember. 

yet older still is truth than reason.....

Read More

A single pebble,
dropped into calm waters,
I watched the ripples grow.

The sound could only be a treble,
it's still heard across many waters,
by sailors, even as they row.

I cease to be a rebel,
like clay in the hands of master potters,
I appoint you the baker and I'll be your dough

With your love so strong, I tremble,
though among the poorest of paupers,
an eagle I've become, instead of a crow....

Read More

Total Surrender
Written: by Miracle Man
2-12-2020

In Nineteen Sixty-Eight I took the plunge,
No longer wishing my sin to conceal.
Trusting God, that He, would my sin expunge,
I was dried out clay on the potters wheel.

Words that crept into my ears defiled soul,
Adding to the sin debt that God carried.
God took my cancer and I was made whole,
He removed any need to feel harried.
...

Read More

From Potter’s Field torches glow
Reflecting names of poor lost souls.
Hapless, hopeless, poor and tired,
Stacked on each other in silent piles.
Searching for a pathway home
To find their loved ones all alone.
The torches follow long trodden paths
Lines of people finding themselves.
An island listed on no ones map
A place in time we can’t take back.
Out history lies crying here
Alone, together, in Potter’s Field....

Read More