Rock clay sand glass paint
from the earth they come
beautiful functional artlife.

The young warriors
fresh with youth brash with adulthood
strong proud run boldly into combat
holding shields waving spears
so naive, so confident in their immortality,
and then blood stains the ground.

So wrong gut-wrenching despicable
the glaring pools of fresh young blood
under shady branches on lush grass
the river whispers sighs mourns weeps
and the sky is harsh frightening blue.

Fruits, flowers
cool elegant serene in an icy deep cerulean
etched in navy, indigo
and the lady's peaceful face in the
palest periwinkle

Deep blue lines
crawling twisting doubling back
looping around sunset desert blooms
seductive, strange,
water in Egypt's parched sands.

Death life beauty ugliness simplicity mystery
in ceramic.

So wrong to hide them
let them dust over in lonely cages.

So wrong that the plates that hold the universe
hold nothing at all.