General Poetry posted March 2, 2019


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how I come to shape

Mere clay

by astyanax


Nothing but a lump of clay
Another pounded dough
Red with dismay
Wet behind the ears
Be on in years
Beaten to be an ashtray
Feeling like dirt
Crying before the hurts
Till breaking the mold
Mud dripping on the table
And getting a role to model
I took a hold
That life in tune
More than a Chinese xun
With passion in the soul
Rolled into a ceramic flute
Never again to be mute

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