Molded Clay Poem by Doris Snyder
Molded Clay
God didn't ask me if I wanted to be
Black, white or yellow.
God didn't ask me where I wanted to be
Hill, sea or meadow. He molded clay, concerted symphony,
Beast, plant and person.
He chose my right place for harmony
Mid tide and season. God Said to love all with amity.
No one is greater.
Share, save the world's destiny.
Keep peace forever.
Thursday, January 2, 2003
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poems By Doris Snyder
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/24/2024 7:51:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
