The Glass Blower


Breath: blown by purposeful intent.
Warm spirit hangs on wings of love,
hovers over formless earth,
pregnant in the darkness.

Sand: sifting seed
of promise runs through
the hand of time counting on fingers
dry as dust, washed
in tides of circumstance.

Fire: crackles with anticipation,
licks its lips;
whetted appetite,
consuming kiss.

Throat croaks, hoarse for sweet
water of your presence.

Fire swallows, gulps down earth until
our lives are liquid in your hands.
We dance in living colour
and we are




4 thoughts on “The Glass Blower

  1. Alison Brown says:

    Hi Jill

    Alison Brown here, once from Witney, now in Somerset.

    Thank you for this amazing poem. Its arrival may be timely.

    I am arranging an ‘open mic’ at church. The idea is that people come and express their hearts in poetry, creative writing or music. And members of the church express their hearts too, sharing their relationship with God without preaching. This a bit strange because I am a painter not a poet and I have not done such a thing before.

    I wonder whether you have, and whether you have any tips or ideas.

    All best wishes


    Sent from Windows Mail


    1. jilllawton says:

      My best tip – go for it! you will be amazed at how much creativity is locked up in people who never saw themselves as poets or artists, if they will take the risk of being vulnerable and just “share from the heart.” All the best for your evening – wish I could join you but it’s a bit far – you are very welcome to pick anything off my website and share it as a “virtual” contribution – there are even audio clips you could play if you have anyone to help you download 🙂 Love Jill

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