if only I could
dredge the waters
gather the words of clay
with my bare hands
take the vowels
take these syllables
raw & pliable
spin them
upon my poetic wheel
shape them
form them
cut the umbilical
from the base
into the fire
of the workshop
will my creation
rise a Phoenix
or merely
tossed
into the waters
fire to ashes
poems to clay
Words and image
TERRENCE SYKES