Hands in Clay

by Alanna


When my hands touch clay

I lose myself

Deep in the soft, smooth sensation of mud

Sliding between my fingers

When my hands touch clay

I am a child at play

With infinite possibilities


When my hands touch clay

I become the earth


When my hands touch clay

I am Navaho, Pueblo, African, Asian, Aborigine

And of the ancient ones

Sharing the spirit of creation

Hidden in the clay

Waiting to be born


Photos by courtesy Pixabay

As also seen on byalannapass.com

“The Power of Play, The Power of Clay”


7 Comments to “Hands in Clay”

  1. Very well written. Reminds us of our foundations!!!

  2. Beautiful words, moulding my mind as if also of clay. Primeval pleasure.

  3. Reblogged this on Writing, events, competitions and even some self-penned bits and commented:
    I am so impressed with all the ways this can be read and hope you will be too

  4. Reblogged this on In the World of Thoughts and commented:
    Alanna your poetry express the emotion of all the Artists who create masterpieces with clay. Thanks for sharing

    I am reblogging this in honour of my Sister Joy.

If you enjoyed the poem. please leave a comment.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: