glazenerd Posted August 9, 2016 Report Share Posted August 9, 2016 Well Evelyne, this weeks' QQW is winding down: I am waiting for your poem! I finished the one I started some time ago, not satisfied with it: but hey!! The Kiln Song Twas the night of the firing, And all through the studio, Crystals were growing, Even though they are pseudo. When up through the controller, The temps they did climb, Even though my old elements, Laid over like dimes. On copper, on cobalt, on ZNO, For tomorrow after is the art show, On titania, on mango, and SiO2, No time for reduction on this load. If only I had fired the day before, Then I would open this door, Even then a strike firing at best, Alas, but this load will sell for less. If only somehow the copper bled, Giving me one pot turned to red, Then with joy I would affix, Thrice the price for best pick. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Evelyne Schoenmann Posted August 9, 2016 Author Report Share Posted August 9, 2016 No QOTW is ever winding down Nerd! Look at all the answers I get month after I posted a question. It's an ongoing QOT-X (insert week/month/year/ etc.). Sooooo you have to wait a while longer for my poem. BUT, stay tuned or you'll miss it.... Pres: I am impressed! Really great poem. And to everybody who contributed: thank you so much for all the poetry. This was a break QOTW from all the potters problems we (sometimes) have. I enjoyed your jumping into cold water and write poetry. A bouquet of roses to all our poetry writers on this forum!! (pssst, Nerd, there is no new QOTW from you in my inbox. How shall we have fun without your great ideas! Come on, don't let me down....). Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joseph Fireborn Posted August 9, 2016 Report Share Posted August 9, 2016 okay, so I am terrible at poetry, i slept through most of it in highschool. but I figured I would add in my randomness, since I enjoyed almost everyone elses. not really a poem, more like words with some rhyming every so often. ... ---------------- Schools back in session. I miss my son, but alas back to my obsession. Each day I make pots, I mix glazes and think will i find my goal? will i find my mark? sometimes i feel like im shooting in the dark. drips here, marks there, dark glazes and crawling crystals sprawling. confused and delight will this kiln load turn out alright? opinions from others weighing my thoughts do i need a blue? surely not! will my pots sell? only time will tell. until then I must continue making pot by pot. success isn't easy Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
glazenerd Posted August 9, 2016 Report Share Posted August 9, 2016 Joseph: Writing a poem for the first time ranks right up there with learning how to center clay. I think you learned how the first time out! Nerd Eveylne, give me some time to figure out a really bizarre, but probing question. Aliens from Mars told us that potters really do have favorite glazes or colors: even though it is industry protocol to deny it. Poetry told us what aspects of clay is on peoples mind. Like you, I was really impressed by the submissions. I "liked" everyone, had to come back the next day to mark likes because I kept running out. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chilly Posted August 9, 2016 Report Share Posted August 9, 2016 With a nod to my two favourite poems - Night Mail by W H Auden and Sea Fever by John Masefield This is the small kiln firing to orderBringing the pots and the tile borderPots for the rich, pots for the poorThe shop at the corner and the folks next doorPushing up heatwork, a steady climb,The kiln gods against her, but ending on time,Past ancient history and even olderShovelling white steam over her shoulderSnorting noisily as she passesSilent fogging of my glasses I must go down to the kiln again, to the lonely stack and the sky. And all I ask is a bisqued pot and a brush to glaze her by; And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white slip shaking, And a matt glaze on the pot’s face, and a glossy glaze breaking. I must go down to the kiln again, for the call of the iron oxide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a calm day with the white clouds lying, And the flung spray and the blown oxide, and the shoppers all buying. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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