A Hole In A Pot Of Waters Poem by Adams King

Go to the stream with a woven basket
But never with a pot having a hole
Like fishermen fishing with a torn net
And traps in an empty rabbit hole

A book waiting for an inkless pen
Open doors seeking locks and knocks
Like the dreams of a mother hen
Been shattered by a hungry hawk

Empty pots and plates are mockery
to a hungry man's tongue and taste
When waiting seems eternity
Faith and hope are sure to waste

Better to rest on a hopeless hope
Than a thread ending in nothingness
For how will a pregnant woman cope
If her swollen stomach becomes childless

Like farmers on their earthen bed
Planting empty seeds to grow
Holding on to the lost and dead
To harvest an unending tomorrow

Fresh leaves can't last on a dry stalk
Rootless flowers on rock that withers
Nor could water hold a floating block
Long as I could think or remember

Basket can hold no water
A pot with a hole demoralizes the wise
Toiling for the wind forever
Unable to phantom his falls when he rise