About Us

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IMAGINATION

What is it, this ball of clay?

I see it as nothing more than an inanimate object of little or no value

When in my imagination, creative thoughts are born.

My hands slowly knead and stretch the clay

Propelling it forward in a nurturing process

Until it no longer resembles its original form.

Among the storms and rainbows in life,

Are our relationships not like balls of clay?

All moving mysteriously in calculated precision

Toward unforeseen goals.

-Florence Wiltshire Millett, New London

ONCE A LUMP OF CLAY

If I were a ball of clay

I’d be enticing you to play

You could pinch me into a pot

Or anything I’m presently not

Or center me on the wheel

Throwing a pot with great zeal

While you form my lump of clay

Your mind might go astray

Dozens of shapes you could make

Wonder which one you’ll take            

As you steadily improvise

My shape begins to grow in size

Soon a beautiful bowl

Made with great control

Into the kiln it goes

The result – nobody knows!

Once a fired pot

You really like me a lot

Covered in blue glaze

Beauty it conveys

Once a lump of clay

Now an artistic display!

-Anne Sarkisian, New London        

  THE BOXER

I'd name myself Cassius Clay.
If I were fine soft ceramic rock
I'd sculpt myself  rising up every day
Modeling my fists so they could knock
 

Out my opponent to the floor
And knead him with glaze firing speed
That he'd call to me "no more"
my punches causing his porcelain nose to bleed.
 

I'd be self hardening.
Standing, jabbing, spinning
On the pottery wheel -
The ring - where I'd be winning.

-Skip Hause,  Lake Sunapee

  POTTERY LESSONS

As a ball of clay, I would never want

to be taken off the potter’s wheel, 

begging the potter to keep caressing

and pressing, his hands keeping me soft 

and pliable, my moist lips forming

the rim of a vase to hold flagrant

pink peonies then, changing his mind,

fashioning them into edges of a platter

to hold succulent oysters. 

Still on the wheel, I can become anything

he desires, anything his imagination conjures. 

Forever malleable I can teach his students 

so very much, when to gently caress, 

when to press with more force 

and when to let me collapse 

into a happy ball of wet clay.

-Dianalee Velie, Newbury NH

MUNDANE, CALM AND PEACEFUL

A ball of clay

has  no eyes

has no brain

no sense of smell

how mundane

A ball of clay

no appetite

no taste buds

no need to be fed

how calm

A ball of clay

no sense of hearing

no sense of urgency

no need to be - anything

how peaceful

-W. D. Tighe, New London

A BALL OF CLAY

A ball of clay is round

A ball of clay is inert

A ball of clay is quiet

A ball of clay is curious

It could be baked in a kiln

It could be passive

It could be aggressive

It could be lonely

After all it is only a ball of clay

-W. D. Tighe, New London