Image Source: clytie-randomtrash.blogspot.com
Tis a plethora of passions that makes people tick
Be they words or numbers or a hook on a stick
Be it fallow acres waiting to be plowed
Or studying the whims in the mind of a cloud
Someone invented those dear alarm clocks
The curve on the base of a chair so it rocks
A toilet that flushes, better winter tires
And for the technician, multi-colored wires
Whatever we touch in an ocean of things
Is the fruit of a thought that’s been given its wings
Of nuts and bolts, metal, fabric, or wood
Someone declared, ah yes, this is good….(yes, even plastic)
God bless the seeker who chases his dream
Teach us to regard it with thankful esteem
And preserve the pleasure of its delight
Not by addiction, but healthy appetite
Tis a plethora of passions that stirs creature souls
The seed of fulfillment, the setting of goals
Born of inner thirst, need or desperation
The whisper of Passion is the bud of creation
© Janet Martin
This poem was inspired by a number of moments…
Wandering though the mall looking at all the ‘stuff’ and wondering …why?
Mulling over a comment someone made yesterday about an up-coming generation of stupidity because kids are ‘glued to some gadget and they don’t read anymore’…not true for all but WAY too many!
And this morning I suddenly wondered who invented the ANNOYING sound of an alarm clock!
By the way, I love you, you dear person who invented the coffee-perk.