The Artisan Poem by soren Barrett
The Artisan
In my hands a lump of clay
In my mind words to say
Discarding, shaping, molding
Both statue and poem unfolding
Pealing back what's underneath
Until you reach your core belief
Out of something common you create
Reality with symbols you penetrate
One softens the fingers the other the soul
Making something of nothing is the goal
As the clay sooths the hands
Words sooth the heart's demands
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 12:32:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
