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A Potter's Clay

Neither distraction nor a mind unfree
A tireless preacher he sits unknown that his hands form a task
A tiresome task some say to the form of his mind
A vivid picture and the result of a taskmaster

Some say the hands that mould be the master
and some say the clay captures the truth of the master
that it in its form of tardiness rule the mind

Twirling in dirt it resonates in its beauty yet unfinished

A slip and it returns to its form of dust
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Thursday, May 22, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: art
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
F J Thomas 11 June 2014

I've always looked at it as a friendship between the two; each improving the other in some small way. Shobana you gave life to what some would perceive to be a common path; you made the profession speak as a being. Lovely :)

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Colleen Courtney 27 May 2014

An interesting poem and an enjoyable read!

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