It was just a bank of clay by the irrigation ditch,
unpretentious and covered in weeds,
but to us it was a world of wonder.
We dipped the clay into the cool water,
molding it with our imaginations,
and the magic appeared.
Battalions of soldiers fought with armies of monsters,
while castles, complete with kings and queens,
towered over the scene.
Pots and bowls of all shapes and sizes
sat baking in the hot sun,
masterpieces of art, every one.
We became the creators,
the masters of our universe,
until the sun went down
and it was time to go home,
and once again our world of wonder
became a bank of clay.
Now I often think of that bank,
so much like our lives,
unpretentious,
covered in the mistakes of our past.
then the Master Creator
dips us in the cool waters of His love
and each one becomes a masterpiece of His art.
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Echo Brian! Sounds exactly like the games I played with my child hood buddy across the street. As far as preaching, maybe a little, but to me that comes under expression.
I loved the first four verses of this poem. The descriptions of play with the many details just rings with childhood glee. These four verses can stand on there own as an excellent poem...the last part, while it may be true, turns this from a poem into more of a sermon,a good sermon maybe, but I actually prefer the poem, it made a bigger impact on me....When you write of your childhood, you add so much flavor and dimension to your writing, I thoroughly enjoy reading your poems.
Yet another great slice of life. How this one evoked memories of my childhood.
I knew that clay bank very well. I also remember the trouble I was in arriving home covered in the clingy stuff.
As they say. You have a way with words. Keep them coming.
Brian
Great metaphor, David. Our memories of the simplicity and wonderment of childhood are the best aren't they. God gave us that peaceful time....Liked this alot!
Welcome !
