A Mornings Word 09/24/07 Poem by wordsy wright

There are thoughts that seem to leave me
In a distant sort of mind
Ideas that seldom seem to fit
With others of their kind

Like dreams we never finish
Or the stories we never tell
Like all the ones that’s left me wondering
At the end do never fail

And the words that find me wandering
Through the idleness there is in rhyme
Or seeking perhaps, a prose’s ponderence
in search of perfect time

Or weavings woven wondrously
In seamless thread is sown
That’s kept within a sulking heart
Whose beauty’s never known

And the wordings of a wounded one
Of their discord and discontent
That’s wound around about their anger
Where their brooding souls are bent

And the pleas that seem to plague us
From those now trodden down
Whose journey sought to find the truth
In lies their findings bound

To leave us all in desperate need
Our weavings, worded want
To heal our wounds from which we bleed
And free these thoughts that haunt.