Getting it Up
September 25, 2020
“” This poem was written as a bit of fun and it is to emphasize the need to cone the clay when throwing on the potter’s wheel “”
I move closer.
Embrace the wheel between my thighs.
Press hard the clay and watch it rise.
Into the strength, that phallic form,
The clay, it spins, I watch it hypnotise.
It goes to centre.
Away again.
Teasing and teasing,
And I press for more.
Up it rises a third time now.
I feel the joy.
This form is mine, the one,
I caress and stroke is fine.
Feeding my desire.
I press it down and out of life.
Again, I move closer to my wheel.
Press hard the clay and watch it rise.
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