Monday, November 1, 2010


We cannot always pen in word
The thoughts that tease and plague or hurt........
Nor does it seem that I've been taught
How to derail my train of thought
Thoughts seem to have minds of their own
Drifting and tumbling when we are alone
Unhindered by distance, time or space
In them lingers the warmth of a face...............
Thought is our chief in command
Thought becomes the work of our hand
It can be pleasure or agony
The cradle of our destiny
Thought provokes and it inspires
Sometimes the smoke, more oft the fire
It is an endless avenue
Given to both the wise and the fool
Tis the thoughts we choose to entertain
Which lead us to ruin or wisdom’s gain

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!