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Aug 10, 2022
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Broken Pots
Broken pots.
Far fallen dreams.
Leaves that spin away from their trees.
A face for each,
for each a life
branded by blessings,
mixed with strife.
Each day’s rhythm
rhymes with the last
a continuous conversation
with the past
all while falling
closer to the ground
all left wondering
if any will hear the sound.
Broken pieces
of broken pots
once found
never lost.
Pieced back together
by the Potter’s own hand
left not to wander
in this nothing-land.
About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Lavender
2 years 10 months ago
Broken Pots
Hello, Julia,
I like your theme very much, and there is a nice, smooth transition throughout your poem. This is a gentle expression of your strong faith. (I wonder how others feel about the word "strife" - I realize logically it fits perfectly in rhyme and meaning, but the word stands out a bit and doesn't feel quite natural or comfortable to me. But that is me...) Lovely message.
Thank you!
L
Geezer
2 years 10 months ago
Nice analogy, pots...
I can see the sameness. Some pretty, some plain, some broken.
I like that you have the potter having the ability to repair
the broken pots, so that they may hold more of your life.
The only lines I would tamper with are: "a continuous conversation."
I would change continuous to [continued], it would help to make the line smoother.
2] "all left wondering, if any will hear the sound"
I would use: if there will be a sound
Yours to use or ignore.
~ Geezer.
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