Clay

A poem about depression

May 4, 2012

Clay 

I am not productive I sit all day, 
on the couch like a lump of clay.
A lump of clay, with no shape or form,
no thought no idea, no reference to start.
To start and shape that lump of clay, 
take it from it's shade of grey, 
mold it handle it, manipulate it; 
until it becomes a beautiful vase.
A vase that can be filled with beauty and light,
hope for the clay, a purpose in life.

Leisa Kinney 

Reviews

[TheGreatAndPowerful]

Just saying this is probably my favorite poem from you. I can relate to it, and the rhyming is a nice touch.

[fiercemist13]

Thank you so much...have so much more I just need to post