Thank you, pen, for allowing me
To hide behind you thoughtfully
Where words can be written in due course
With the ability to stop and pause.
Where my opinions may be told
To wait, to sit back down and hold
Their brash and noisy tongues a while
Until determined if worthwhile.
Should I bring them out full force?
Or should I wait and ponder their source?
Does this opinion come from love?
From knowledge, truth… or a punching glove?
For sometimes if I don't allow
My thoughts to fully filter, how
They have a habit of coming out
Unannounced, and often without
A proper thought as to whether or not
They are really needed on the spot
Or if, perhaps, they should be trained
By self-control, to be restrained…
But written words can be rephrased
Added to, or just erased
Unlike words fresh off the tongue
Which can't return once they are flung.
So I admit, I much prefer
To let my reckless thoughts defer
To paper while I stop and think
Before putting them into ink.
For words have power of all kinds,
To build up, or destroy, our minds
To usher in sweet comfort and peace
Or cause a frail hope to decease…
They can cause a fire to rage
Or put our future in a cage,
Or they can bring about great change
And cause a life to re-arrange.
And so, dear pen, I thank you much
For being a thought-buffer as such,
To filter out anger and pride
And let my careless words subside.
“The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.”
“Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to get angry, for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”
“Everyone enjoys a fitting reply; it is wonderful to say the right thing at the right time!”