Dave the Potter

He is known as Dave the Potter, Dave the Slave, or just Dave.
He lived in Edgefield, South Carolina before the Civil War as a slave.
He was a talented potter and poet.
His words and life's work still stand today.

Dave the Potter: by Laban Carrick Hill

I am fascinated by his life and how he made an impact.
To know of a life that was lived so long ago is amazing.
I would love to own one of his pieces.

Here are some of his poems and pottery.
There is also a children's book about him.
He lived and mattered, just as all of us do.
I might just have a new hero to add to my list.

This noble jar will hold 20

Fill it with silver 
Then you'll have plenty

8 April, 1858

The sun, moon and – stars

in the west are plenty of – bears

29 July 1858

 

To us
it is just dirt,
the ground we walk on...
But to Dave
it was clay,
the plain and basic stuff
upon which he formed a life
as a slave nearly 200 years ago.

Ask Pottery dot com

I wonder where is all my relations

Friendship to all – and every nation

16 August 1857

Quote by Laban Carrack Hill

Some Links:

Dave the Slave

Dave the Potter

Leonard Todd

Laban Carrack Hill

Truths and Roses

All good things are wild and free - Thoreau

Not until we are lost, do we begin to understand ourselves - Thoreau

I make myself rich, by making my wants few - Thoreau

Truths and roses have thorns about them - Thoreau

The earth has music for those who listen - Shakespeare

Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder - Rumi

The cure for anything is salt water -- sweat, tears, or the sea - Isak Dinesen

Ready

The drumbeat of spring permeates my ears.
Every day the sound grows a little stronger, a little louder.
A heartbeat in the same rhythm pattern as mine.
In my heart I believe earth is ready for spring too.
Full of vigor and brilliance from her rest.
Ready to bloom her dreams out for all to see. 
Ready for laughter and joy ~

Earth laughs in flowers 

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let the Rain

Let the rain kiss you.  

Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.  

Let the rain sing you a lullaby.  

~Langston Hughes

~~~~~~~

Let the rain come

For that is the trumpet of spring

Let us never forget

The joy it brings

Each time it falls

A new creation

Never having touched

To the earth

And it falls just for you 

Let it fall.

~me

~~~~~~~

S c a t t e r e d Thoughts

When nature spills her scattered thoughts,

I will stop and listen every time.

The most quiet moments,

Offer her deepest reflections,
And she pens them so many different ways.