feel of clay between palms,
seeping through fingers,
slipping down arm towards elbow
as if traveling towards heart
cold to touch, like death,
until breathed alive
by bend of bony woman
over old mud
Author notes
my sculptures i did a couple of years ago...my favorite
A contest entry
- ...of clay and bone by zochit2me.
1850 points, ended August 23, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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I love how your imagery makes the reader feel this poem...it gives it that feeling of 'life'.
By the way, I love your sculptures
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wow this is wise beyond what I expected...
I can see the pottery and the seeping of wetness towards elbow...
Very impressed with this.
fantastic use of the prompt and great word choice
so glad to see you joined us.
becky -
Beautifully done dear poet and the thought of old mud in new fingers much like the writing of the author. Always enjoyable to read. Love, C
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Not only do you bring your words to life but from the wonderful sculptures in the picture you bring old mud to life too.
Juls 
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Oh those are so cool mom! YOu did that? Wow! You gave the perfect description of the process.
Hugz,
Frogz~ -
Old mud. Wow. We are old mud, too. I did some geneological work; and ultimately had a vision of the fabric of humanity; all the threads of all the lines crissing and crossing; warp and weft In many dimensions
Becoming aware that no new lines form
We all have a mother and father, who had a mother and father... all the way back...
All cousins distantly related across a grid of fabric
Each of us sitting at an intersection
We have forgotten to see into the distance
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