my first pottery class

Here are the results of my first pottery course.  We learnt coil and slab pottery, using a mold, throwing clay, and basic paint and glazing techniques.  Unfortunately I was a bit heavy handed with my large mold pottery dish and it cracked after it had been bisqued (?) – it would have been gorgeous.  Nevermind, I’m keen to do this course again soon!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

About Lazywednesdays

I like poems

I like the space

I like the playfulness

The to and fro of wordballs

You throw

I’ll catch, sometimes

But usually I’ll just be standing in the space… over there, on the right and up a bit

My eye isn’t always on the ball.

The space around poems is luxurious, abundant, infinite, protected and free, expensive and cheap, all mine, all yours, comforting and disconcerting

Like an air~steward’s smile

All over the place

over here

and over here

<- Her palms indicate exit signs ->

You’ll be fine!

But still you count the seats in front and behind

The space around poems is like green fields around a city

Peace of mind?

I’ll give you a piece of my mind

Just step outside the next line.


The first poetry book I was given was called, “I Like This Poem” (1979) and it had a picture of a dog balancing a red ball on its nose.  I loved that book!


Some Inspiring Articles about Poetry:

Poetry Changed the World

Injury and the Ethics of Reading

clay pot haiku

hard and fired up

fingerprints pressed all over

my little clay pot


lust is a donut

hot, fresh and dipped in sugar

do not lick your lips!


painting by will wilson


Envelop me
Let me feel your gentle wings envelop me
As I sing to you
Shattered and undone

Hold me
Let me feel your arms hold me tight
As I move to the beat
Shattered and lonely

Protect me
Let me feel your protecting light all around me
As I cry tears of joy
I am not alone

For you are here with me, my bright angel
You wrap your gleaming wings around my soul
Comforting and cherishing
Promising and nourishing
Making light work of a heavy heart

Sweet rapture
Wrapped up in your wings I feel safe

Sweet rapture
Wrapped up and blanketed in your grace

I’m flying, my beautiful, invisible angel
You lift me in my hour of need
You smooth away my pain
You comfort me when I’m lonely

Cocooned in your loveliness
You, my angel, are my golden sanctuary

dare to fly

dare to fly…

we dream of flying like birds
of seeing the earth rolling beneath
of feeling the wind blow through our hair

we can’t help but see you
we can’t help but feel

you’re still there

we dream of things beyond this reality
of the stars in the sky
distant and strange

we look beyond the possible
when we feel at a loss
of just how to explain

your passing
your leaving
the permanence of death

how can a life so strong and so brilliant so suddenly be gone?

we can’t help but hear your voice
we can’t help but see your smile

the mischievous gleam in your eyes

do you still dream I’m alive?
do you dare to hope it’s a lie?
that in some strange twist of fate I didn’t die?

we dream, we feel
we hope, we pray

we grasp at straws and try to delay
the cold hard reality

that inevitably knocks at the door and says
that you’re not here to stay

that though you were the epitome of life itself
though your voice still sings loud and clear

like a bird freed from its cage
you’ve flown

you’re flying high

you just wanted to hear the tempo
and the melody

of life

for a while