
GLASS is tough and often stands guard within a frame,
Like as a window, or fronting a picture,
Or focussing our gaze, when our eyes are not the same.
And I often see through you, unless disguised by your coating,
Put on to dull your amorphous transparent mixture,
Of soda, silica, limestone and ‘fancier’ bits, you often say when gloating.
And it is obsidian to say that you can’t be naturally found,
A universal secret without human intervention.
And your boast about rapid cooling makes my heart pound,
For when you were made, you were just too hot to handle,
Making parched lungs wait, for when you were of malleable intention,
Else creating such strange objects, as if made by a mischievous vandal.
Yet, I am overwhelmed by the stresses that you quietly hide
Within your new shape or moulded design,
Made whilst gooey like molten plastic, where no animal can abide.
Which makes for great fun when a glass animal is ‘born’
And you see its wonders in detail and colours and lines
Made by us humans, as we’ve been doing since time’s early dawn.
As an art, you are an object of delight in many ways,
Mimicking nature, abstract designs and useful objects to name a few.
Modern buildings tease out new conceptual uses for your display,
Fish swim within your bounds, whilst plants bathe in wind-less sunshine.
You also protect and make for easy cleaning – for us to enjoy a safer view
From the sky, or on the water, where we can watch the world as we dine.
Broken items can be accidental, and there is none more dangerous than glass,
With your warped sharp edges and shards that can stick you like a pin.
But no blame to you, as QA have given you a solid ‘pass’.
Your character can even be changed, by material science at its best,
To make you stronger, withstand heat and shock, and be made ultra-thin.
But I wish that people knew you better,
As you hide your magical form . . . when you are squeaky clean.
(c) Stefan Nicholson

















