Ask Poems - Poems about Ask

On a morning like this, lethargic and indifferent, It is so easy to make me rich, When the pain is moving slowly and smoothly, and I hold on to you, like a monkey, ...

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Having observed so many diverse relationships over the years got me thinking… to be precise… I wonder what would you’d say If your son or daughter came to you, told you they were in love…and asked for your advice… Knowing they are looking to you…for support…for inspiration…for some cues when they’re standing innocently in front of you…what questions would...

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Winter storm. Question marks fall like snow on shoulders bent with seeking. Hollow caverns where certainty once lived echo chambers of why. Face pressed against cold glass. Fingertips trace what cannot be grasped. Footsteps soft on unseen paths. Autumn leaves crumble in cupped palms. Dreams, half-formed, scatter like dust through fingers that cannot hold. Shell splits. Light finds the crack, makes...

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QUESTIONS POETS AND WRITERS ASK ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ On my laptop’s screen, words twist and twine, I ponder, “Is this plot truly mine?” With a character's frown, Will my story break down? Or will sadness and joy combine? As I scribble, “What rhymes with orange?” I chuckle, “Should my hero be foreign?” ...

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I have said so many prayers that sometimes I feel they are no longer mine. That I inherited them like clothes too large. I say them, but do not understand. I utter them, but do not believe. And yet, I cling to them like the hand of a father who never held me. Perhaps belief is not needed. It is enough to keep hoping. Even...

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Lyric Man (Chance Summer) songer.co/song/u8ulv7rbi89mspeng2luhj54 (copy & paste to listen) JUST ASK [Verse 1] If you're needing healing, wrestling with disease, If your wallet’s empty, you're down on your knees. If you're feeling lonely, too proud to even cry, Or lost in the darkness with no strength to try. If you're holding shame like a heavy stone, If joy...

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I didn't call him, just as the wind doesn't ask permission to caress the rusty leaves, I sat there, crushing the day in my palms like an old parchment of forgotten memories, I let the water boil, and the shadow of the apple tree poured stories onto the tired grass, He came unannounced, like an echo from another...

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And a man was before the Lord..' And requested knowledge This was a pleaesing thing to the Lord..He replied how Much knowledge do you require.? The man held out a An empty pitcher.' And said can you pour into this of your Water as a sign of how much I will recieve? When I study Your Word.? Immediatly a part...

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They ask me why I write like this, as if I have swallowed something I cannot digest, I tell them that I do not craft poems, I survive them, I carry them as a burden, Each verse is a wound that decided to speak, a silent cry in the quiet night, Each stanza is a bandage pretending to...

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Cart before horse Drink the horse to water Spill the bean to go-betweens Hold hands to stay the course Bygones never happened on, by here Slay the messenger! Doggone they're here! Dilemmas are binary, but one 'tis nothing Bury the Lede; Let the moored go free Leap before you bridge the gap By the way, if you never asked? Petals on daisy chain flowers are...

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First it came like progress, cold and clean, With circuits bright and wires unseen. It took our hands from honest toil, Turned bread and sweat to data spoil. Then vanished choice beneath the screen, Where algorithms picked what dreams had been. We traded sleep for sleepless feeds, And fed the dark on silent needs. Now history flickers on the glass— A question shaped like...

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Father, May your eyes be open and your ears attending to the prayers made in this place. Consecrate this home, so that your name will be known here forever. Please make it a house of prayer. A place of grace. A dwelling where your Spirit is pleased to rest upon. May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ....

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Enough with the whispers about kindness when the shadows of night ask you to embrace your own gentleness, Enough with the tales of love until your heart becomes the source from which authentic love flows, Enough with praising success until your journey becomes an obsession of self-discovery, Enough with stories of power until you bleed in silence and...

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They often ask me why I don’t wear festive clothes, why I don’t paint my face, Don’t you also like to shine in the light of a clear morning? Oh, if only I could tell them that every act of beautification feels like just a veil over a wound, As if I were hanging curtains over broken windows,...

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You ask what remains after emotions have flowed like sand through an hourglass? Just a pair of eyes that now look only to see, not to feel, not to remember the echo of yesterday, without a trace of the past, without the outline of the future, just the suspended moment. A tongue dried of words, not of silence, but...

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