I am always clay.
I'm an intricate
combination of
mud and water,
mineral and air
that has been
mixed and splattered,
portioned,
patted,
pressed and molded,
smoothed,
turned,
carved,
creased,
glazed real pretty
then
heated and dried,
washed and rinsed
and used to
overflowing,
then at other times
left empty
and crammed
into small dark
spaces,
ignored for weeks,
months or years
at a time,
occasionally
only appreciated
on holidays
and sometimes
abused
by careless, slippery
or angry hands
that leave me
chipped,
broken and
shattered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lifted softly I am always clay....Then the elements and concluded shattered well writ nice theme Ma'am