b o w l
so it was a high mountain stream that
sat beside my thirst. and two palms that
cupped and drew an answer there.
is it interesting that of so many creatures
god gave us this bowl of our own to drink?
sky is a bowl you wear like a hat.
consider all that is given you.
consider thoughts like light.
consider clouds that souls imply.
consider the word, inside.
consider the illusion, we say, edge.
here, a potters hands imagine a bowl.
clay reflects makingness.
breath is a bowl drinking sky
yet fills only when empty first.
some bowls have names,
some do not.
some bowls are full of words.
a bowl will hold the mosaic
of my doubts, and then
one day I looked and it was aches
and pains. yet bowls heal simply
by turning rightside upside down.
everything real is inside a bowl.
what’s outside is a mystery disguised
all things are held in equal calm.
a bowl will teach, although that’s not
the meaning meant.
a bowl is one half of everything.
bowls don’t care when I’m confused.
your lips are a bowl.
so’s your love.
a bowl is a shape nature adores.
a bowl is known by another word.
the word is choice.
bowls can count to ten.
things that look like a bowl to me.
the pockets in my pants.
my mouth. yours. ears. eyes.
your hand in mine.
neil reid © february 2013
this poem is all over the place. I first imagined something else, but here’s all I got, and the choice is choosing this or nothing. so maybe that’s about right.
oh, and in terms of counts I did a search. the word bowl appears in about 40 of my poems thus far, and now, 41. guess that qualifies.
(Poems is hard.) writing ain’t easy of late.
Written for the We Write Poems prompt #144, In your own words.
Identify words you use more frequently in your poems, then take a look what one of those words really means for you.