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Array ( [sid] => 56433 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Clay [time] => 2004-07-16 17:23:10 [hometext] => Love is wonderful. But when it ends abruptly without rhyme or reason, it is one of the most horrible times to go through. [bodytext] => A sculptor decided to make his way,
Through the woods one desolate day.
Color blind, all in gray,
Vision in disarray,
He stumbled upon a pile of Clay.

He did not know why
It caught his eye.
Maybe the hue?
Maybe the vibe?
But mostly, just something deep inside.
And so, he decided to stay.

“This is nothing that I’ve seen before,
And I have journeyed door to door
In search of something to adore,
Something rare, something pure.
But why would I find it here?”

He lifted the Clay up from the ground,
Felt its warmth, heard its sound,
And slowly, began to look around,
to make sure no one had seen what he found.
And with a smile, he ventured away.

Much time he spent with his new Clay,
Softly caressing it every day,
Carving, molding, clearing each fray,
Hoping this Love would never stray,
That he’d never see the end.

Yet, after it’s meager and innocent start,
The Clay had soon bloomed into art.
Playful, beautiful, comfortable, smart.
He realized he had given his heart…
Away.

And then

Things Soon

Just Fell

A Part.

The sculptor watched his work perfect,
Yet, couldn’t handle that effect,
Thinking that he might detect
Just one defect,
He lost respect,
Could not accept,
Did not expect
To just reject,
But did.

With alacrity and pain in hand,
He got up to take a stand,
And chose to hide the Clay away.
Might work on it another day,
When all his fears were far away,
Or when he knew it’d never decay.

Up on the highest shelf he threw
The Clay, so it was out of view,
But kept it near if he felt blue,
Although he knew that he was through.

And occasionally, he would longingly glance,
Think about just one more chance,
One last romance, with his Clay…

But would turn his back.

And the Clay never changed,

And life went on.

[comments] => 2 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 22 [informant] => krism [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 14 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )

Clay

Contributed by krism on Friday, 16th July 2004 @ 05:23:10 PM in AEST
Topic: LostLove

A sculptor decided to make his way,
Through the woods one desolate day.
Color blind, all in gray,
Vision in disarray,
He stumbled upon a pile of Clay.

He did not know why
It caught his eye.
Maybe the hue?
Maybe the vibe?
But mostly, just something deep inside.
And so, he decided to stay.

“This is nothing that I’ve seen before,
And I have journeyed door to door
In search of something to adore,
Something rare, something pure.
But why would I find it here?”

He lifted the Clay up from the ground,
Felt its warmth, heard its sound,
And slowly, began to look around,
to make sure no one had seen what he found.
And with a smile, he ventured away.

Much time he spent with his new Clay,
Softly caressing it every day,
Carving, molding, clearing each fray,
Hoping this Love would never stray,
That he’d never see the end.

Yet, after it’s meager and innocent start,
The Clay had soon bloomed into art.
Playful, beautiful, comfortable, smart.
He realized he had given his heart…
Away.

And then

Things Soon

Just Fell

A Part.

The sculptor watched his work perfect,
Yet, couldn’t handle that effect,
Thinking that he might detect
Just one defect,
He lost respect,
Could not accept,
Did not expect
To just reject,
But did.

With alacrity and pain in hand,
He got up to take a stand,
And chose to hide the Clay away.
Might work on it another day,
When all his fears were far away,
Or when he knew it’d never decay.

Up on the highest shelf he threw
The Clay, so it was out of view,
But kept it near if he felt blue,
Although he knew that he was through.

And occasionally, he would longingly glance,
Think about just one more chance,
One last romance, with his Clay…

But would turn his back.

And the Clay never changed,

And life went on.

Copyright Â© krism ... [ 2004-07-16 17:23:10]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Clay (User Rating: 1 )
by Silent-No-More on Friday, 16th July 2004 @ 05:44:46 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Welcome to YPDC, krism! This is a great first post... you are, most definitely, quite a storyteller. I stood along side your sculptor as I made my way through this piece... you words providing the vision to allow me to do that.

I agree... love is wonderful - but when it begins to crumble, it's rather impossible not to feel like stuffing it away to avoid the pain. Funny how we hide it away but can't ever really let it go completely.

Dying to know if you took a real "Clay" and molded him into a metaphor,
SNM

Re: Clay (User Rating: 1 )
by xxbreathlessx on Friday, 16th July 2004 @ 06:25:07 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

WoW! breathtaking, i love how you use the clay to resemble love..its AWESOME! loved it!!!!!!!!!

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