I hate many things,
Among them the vice of idleness.
I hate what idleness brings
A moody languor wrapped in tardiness.
Idleness lies deep within,
Embedded in the sinews of our genes.
Upon its face a foolish grin,
Offering itself as other than it seems.
Idleness steals from our core,
A petty thief up to no good.
Abundance now wasted in our store,
That lies there idle like a piece of wood.
Idleness burns the energy of lives,
Like smoke, it dissipates and never survives.
Sometimes I wonder where some of my friends find time to be idle but they do! Admittedly, I have been known to be idle in my own way and that is to be communing with nature. 'Enjoyed!!
Since my last short story book, I have written only one short story and have been contemplating an article that I haven't started to write… Idling my time away just like your poem relates. Oh, I still get busy, but doing idle things that are unnecessary. Your poem is a real kick in the butt for me. Better get going…
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
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Love ya!
Jane
Since my last short story book, I have written only one short story and have been contemplating an article that I haven't started to write… Idling my time away just like your poem relates. Oh, I still get busy, but doing idle things that are unnecessary. Your poem is a real kick in the butt for me. Better get going…
Ron