| Story ID: | 2416 |
| Written by: | Kathleen Blanchfield (bio, contact, other stories) |
| Story type: | Poem |
| Location: | kilkenny Eire Ireland |
| Year: | 2007 |
| Person: | My husband |
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| Story ID: | 2416 |
| Written by: | Kathleen Blanchfield (bio, contact, other stories) |
| Story type: | Poem |
| Location: | kilkenny Eire Ireland |
| Year: | 2007 |
| Person: | My husband |
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SPOKEN WORDS The idle tongue may hurt much more Than the angry clenched fist blow; Idle gossip causes more pain Where`re in life we go. Sorely wounded flesh and bone, In time for sure will heal, But the hurt that`s done by idle tongues, Will fester and congeal. The kindest heart it will freeze up Amd render spirits low, When anger turns our precious words, On family friends and foe. God granted us the gift of speech, And reason to reflect; Let us make sure our spoken words come gentle with respect. |