Category Archives: Poem

We’re all cracked pots!

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

 

For a full 2 years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house.

 

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made.

 

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

 

After 2 years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.

 

“I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.”

 

“Why?” asked the bearer.  “What are you ashamed of?”

 

“I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house.  Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

 

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”

Indeed as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path and this cheered it some.  But at the end of tile trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

 

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on YOUR side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side?  That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it.  I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them.

 

For 2 years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table.  Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

 

Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws.  We’re all cracked pots.

 

Some of us don’t grow old gracefully, some are not so smart, some are tall, large & big, some bald, some physically challenged, but it’s the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.

 

You’ve just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them.  There is a lot of good out there.  There is a lot of good in you.

Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be bent out of shape.  Remember to appreciate all the different people in your life!  Or as I like to think of it – If it’s not for the crackpots in my life, it would be pretty boring.

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Which is more powerful, the gun or the lens?

I wrote in the first week of September 1997. Princess Diana had just died and the news world was thrown into silence. The calm before the storm, the paps got hammered and yet the papers rolled off with every money making spin off they could. I remember Radio 1 played the same loop of songs including the haunting theme from Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence. Click here to listen.

I was sat, parked somewhere along the spine of road network that connects our truly brilliant country and I penned this,  I was 22 years old.

Which is more powerful,

the gun or the lens?

One thing is certain,

They’re a means to an end.

Both of them active,

both of them still.

Equally powerful,

able to kill.

Hunt the rich and famous,

as if a bird of prey.

Scavenge like hyenas,

endless, night & day.

Scurry round like sewer rats,

humans are their morsels.

I wonder, are their parents proud?

Their children have ‘no’ morals!

Each of us, share the blame,

every day repeat the same.

We’re both as bad as one another,

we buy the papers and show each other.

How do we know what they say it true?

‘Cos they tell me & I tell you!

I wonder what some might say,

if they were still with us today.

We’ve lost some great people over the years,

media pressure…the pain…the tears.

The only people who gain from the lives they wreck,

are the big fat cats, with their big fat cheques.

© Adam Brooks – 1997

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