Made of Clay

Inspired by a phrase in myALZteam comment by D to Lana:
    “…the person you knew is molded into another identity…”

The Evil Sculptor

The Sculptor
The sculptor takes a frame and scoops some clay
He presses and prods it to form a human head
He scrapes up some clay and forms full fleshy cheeks
And molds clay into cheekbones and chin
He chooses a clay lump and models a cute nose
Shaping and forming and nursing the form…
Ah! Pretty young woman is born.

Young Woman
Young woman hale and hearty
Cheeks full and flush
In the prime of her life
Pregnant with being
So much to give
So  much to live

The Sculptor
The sculptor works and reworks lumps of cool clay
As he plies on the layers as folks lay on fat
And become placidly contented with life
Life without strife…Ah! The beauty this day.
He’s smug with with his statue
The woman is full, the face is mature
The sculptor has matched Mother Nature

Mature Woman
The sculptor works with his tools
With slow and efficient precision
His vision is clear, his technique unmistaken;
But his purpose not seen till the end of transition
And once he is done, he downs his small trowel
And smiles as he wipes his work hands on a towel.
Woman in full, fleshy and fresh.
Ah! Mother in prime. Clay

The Sculptor
A figure has slowly emerged on this day
A figure transformed from his lumps of cool clay
Thin frame with a face quite hollow and wan,
Its eyes do not sparkle, the flesh sags to the floor,
The youthful good looks have gone out the door
And what is now left is tired and sad
The clay that had held her is is gone back to the clay
The sculptor is done with his play

Old woman
Drawn and pale
Brittle and broken
Hollow of cheek and sadness of eye
Her prime long since gone
And her body all saggy, all skin,
All that is left is a small lump of clay
life no longer is shiny
Only a memory of youth
Sad realization of truth

The Sculptor
The sculptor stands back and admires his work
How he’d meticulously transformed those smiling brown eyes
How he’d chosen the right tool to scrape excess clay
From the face and the arms and the legs,
Chiseled the cheeks to built up the cheekbones…
How he admires his own clever work!
His chest nearly bursts he’s so filled with his pride.
And never once thought of the poor soul
Who’s dwelling inside.

This poem comes to you warts and all, just like life.
I thank the hugely talented artists for their extremely beautiful works.

Image credits:
Young woman in clay: Portrait Sculpting: Anatomy & Expressions in Clay by Philippe Faraut
https://www.pinterest.com/search/pins/?rs=ac&len=2&q=clay+sculpting+ideas&0=clay|autocomplete|1&1=sculpting|autocomplete|1&2=ideas|autocomplete|1
As pinned by:  ceramic forms by Michelle Maher
https://www.pinterest.com/ceramicforms/

Super close up of old lady by MarcSijan:
http://www.lilavert.com/blog_lilavert/sculptures-hyper-realistes-de-marc-sijan/
Date: 23/03/2014 Author: LilaVert I-I Comments: 0 Categories: art –
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