Coils of fibre
Twisted strips of bark and reed
Woven into bags and baskets
To gather nuts and seed
The Jomon people
Hunt animals and fish
But meals can be a struggle
Without a bowl or dish
Soggy baskets
Animal skins that leak and spill
Charred meat burning
From the Jomon’s latest kill
Bitter acorns and shellfish that should be boiled
Someone is sick and has a fever
Another meal is spoiled
Food is stored in baskets
Buried underground
Where mice and rats and vermin
Are likely to be found
Food is in the hedgerows
In the forest and in the sea
But how to cook it, keep it fresh
No one yet can see
Cup your hands
And scoop up water from the lake
Thirsty instinct
Tells our hands the shape we have to make
Cup your hands and scoop up clay
From the earth beneath your feet
Curious fingers press and probe
And make the thing complete
It hardens by the fire
Its shape is clear to see
A hollow like your hands would make
To lift up water from a lake:
A cup, a bowl, a pot that anyone can make...
Coils of clay
Rolled and folded
Layer upon layer
Melded and moulded
The thing is growing
Ring by ring
A pot for the Jomon
A practical thing
Its sides are straight
Its base is flat
But the pot is pressed with cord and plait -
A basket in clay
An added touch, a decorative flair
An artistic idea plucked from the air?
Motifs of animal bones
Shells and trees
Natural things that seem to please
Are printed in relief
In browns and greys
So that everyday items
May brighten their days
But the pots were not only stylishly good looking
They were made for storing food and cooking
Leak-proof and heat-proof
Here was something new
Now meat could be boiled and pot-roasted -
The world’s very first stew!
The hunter-gatherer people
In a Japanese village by the sea
Now found life far more stable
As a varied diet and safer food
Was shared at the family table
And human history is written in clay:
Ming bowls from China
Pot-bellied African jars
Greek vases with heroes fighting
Islamic urns spangled with stars
Wedgewood tureens in cream and pale blue
Delicate Japanese porcelain in every colour and hue...
Its sides are straight
Its base is flat
The pot is pressed with cord and plait -
But now it has an added touch
Something new, something bold
The grey, brown pot is lined with gold -
Transformed for a ritual worthy of its age
Respect is paid to this ceramic sage
A ritual object, an essential key
A mizusashi water jar for the ceremony of tea
And Jesus at that long, long table
Passed a bowl around to his disciples there,
And way back down the long, long ages
Cups and bowls and jars declare
How something so very ordinary
Is a precious thing we share
As we eat and drink together
Like the Jomon people
Seven thousand years ago
Who left their pots behind to let us know
How by such simple things
Civilizations grow.
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