THE SCULPTOR
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he bore,
And I could change it never more.
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he bore,
And I could change it never more.
- Anonymous....
Tributes to the Noble Teacher
I still remember those days when I learned English from my Dad. Those of days of memories. In the English class, the passionate presentation of prose and poetry took me into the world of joy; the joy of appreciation of the language. He learned himself, in spite of a rural background where he had to pass through green fields and channels with knee deep water to attend high school that was 5 miles away. After becoming a teacher (Science) he developed interest in English and acquired M.A. in English through Distance Education. Because of his thirst for learning he learned English and its beauty and nuances of the language. I remember those nights that he used to toil with the table lamp, as we were sleeping on the mat spread on the floor. As we sleep, he slip into the lessons to explore the language.
I really miss him. His passion for the language has spread into me. Though lot of altercations with my Mother, the moment she utters anything in English, my father melts. My Mother is a Tamil teacher who hated English, for she believed that why should she learn English, for they made us slaves for centuries. The message is loud and clear that, being in a rural area is not a barrier to learn English. It is in our mind. It is our mind-set that stops us from learning. I wow to dedicate my self to those who have a desire and drive to learn English, amides of various disadvantages and barriers to language learning, and help them learn English, on this FIRST DEATH ANNIVERSARY of this noble teacher.
(Those who want to learn English, reach me at avinaash.d@gmail.com)
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers pressed it still,
It moved and yielded at my will.
I came again when days were past;
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when days were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
That early impress still he wore,
And I could change it never more.
(Author Unknown)
- See more at: http://www.rayfowler.org/2009/05/08/a-piece-of-plastic-clay-a-poem-for-mothers-day/#sthash.R3woDXYr.dpuf
