Was it the food
or my indigestion
When I’m fully recovered
I’ll ask my wife a burning question
Speak to me, Oh! Heavens,
Yell if you need to,
Louder than louder can be,
Not gentle, no less subtle,
A bolt of lighting if you would,
Anything but the silence,
Because in that silence I am afraid,
I am afraid I have to see,
What it is I truly I am,
The shattered essence of the divine,
Scattered pieces of the whole,
And what terrifies the most,
Is the burning question,
How did I make a hell out of a beautiful heaven?
A.R
Why this inhumane suffering
A constant tale of slaughtering
Innocents who die
Forever in the earth to lie.
Do we need to see far more
All that suffering and gore
Lives of children cut so short
Simple targets used for sport.
Voices shout that guns don't kill
But every day the headlines shrill
Another victim and far more
So many names we can't keep score.
Assault weapons are for war
Inflicting wounds that burst with gore
When will we all say 'enough'
A word too many find so tough.
If there's one thing we need to grasp
The burning question we must ask
Is our indifference complicit
With so much misery explicit.
While we posture and debate
Lifeless bodies lie prostrate
Have they truly died in vain
For a freedom quite insane?
It is hard to believe sometimes,
That we all have a God,
When the whole world is at war,
Where is God's iron rod?
God observes and teaches us,
If we choose to learn.
After all, life lessons,
These teachings we spurn.
Then human nature
Rises its ugly head
Life is not valued,
Death prevails instead.
God all-powerful,
Is looking from above,
Wondering what happened,
To his teachings of peace and love.
History repeating itself
When will we ever learn,
Will we all play the fiddle
While the whole world burns!
is permanence great
let’s ask the eternal flame
~ only when on fire ~
By
David Kavanagh
My burning question is what is “normal”
Normal is unique with everyone, intrinsically moral
So how is it defined
It's defined by the mind
Of course, we have to deal with the creepy abnormal
My long awaited companion
but fickle and evasive entity
I do not look forward to our upcoming date
Though long anticipated
I don’t think I will be ready
My life's essence rebels against you
Our long awaited rendezvous
Becomes more and more a dreaded reality
But I realize it's a necessary date albeit ephemeral
I must keep it, I know, for he will transport to begin my search
I await you my suitor, my patient companion,
Full of trepidation, fully excited I await your embrace
Fear grows grows within me as I ponder the inevitable questions
will this date be the grand entry into a glorious forever
Or an anticipated date that fizzles into a final ethereal nightmare
Leaving me wrapped in an empty void
ensconced with an enigmatic feeling of nothingness
but still imbued with the burning question where is the Benevolent Creator
I really want to, but then I really don't
My mind says to stop, but somehow I just won't
The battle rages on, inside my head each day
Most times I never know, what I will do or say
And such is the life, of someone who is addicted
A life in disarray, thoughts are always conflicted
But I'm the one in charge, this much I know is true
I need to trash all my thoughts, put faith in what I knew
Before I morphed into, this demented state of mind
I used to love myself, and that true self I must find
It comes with introspection, into days gone by
To answer the burning question, why do I get high
Unable to deal with feelings, the ego gets in the way
Now a grown monster, its this ego I must slay
If it happens to you, all the days you will frown
I hope this poem helps my friend
It's the Jewel in the crown
I decided today
To become a model outright
Not one that walks the runway
But one that walks through life
Someone that others can follow
Not a leader per sa
But one that sets higher standards
Of morals along the way
One who is a prime example
In the way that things are done
Who's opinion isn't like the wind
So he can receive the praise of man
I'll be a model that gets my wisdom
From the greatest book that's ever been written
Sharing the reason that it was given
Bringing to Earth that peace of Heaven
When asked the burning question
Of what would Jesus do
The example in me they will see
Time and again through and through
For I feel the time has come
Yes I feel the time is now
To open up to what needs to be done
To let this model out
That is why today I decided
To become this model outright
Not another one that walks the runway
But one that stands up and walks through life
A tale of a lady in waiting.....
Emily did speed dating,
For her swain she is waiting,
Emily, anticipating,
Hopes fantasising,
Are her nuptials nearing?
Is today that diamond appearing?
Shall she have a solitaire ring?
Preceding her white wedding?
Now her swain is appearing,
He has a burning question,
She waits for his suggestion,
She's the lady in waiting,
Is her swain proposing?
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
He sighs heavily,
"Here is my question burning,
I ask my soul's deep yearning."
Emily waits for a diamond ring,
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
Swain whispers breathily,
The lady is waiting.....
"Can you marinate chicken wings?"
He yells angrily,
"That's rude, that's crude!
That's the last time I see you!"
Now her own wings she is marinading,
Does she resume speed dating?
Does Emily ever stop dreaming?
Solitaire ring anticipating,
The lady is waiting....
The lady is waiting....
And waiting, and waiting, and waiting.......
So why do I do what I do?
Do I really have free choice
or am I the product
of social conditioning,
complying with the expected
conventions and restrictions
placed upon me
by my peers and elders?
Do I live my own life
to my own tune
or am I only dancing
to a well-rehearsed
step-sequence
laid down in my genes?
Have I the right
to question the path
of destiny laid down
before I was even born?
Why do I feel
there must somewhere be
a great puppet master
controlling my every action,
for surely my reactions
to people, places, events
are not of my choosing?
Rather, a series of options
in large, non-dimensional boxes
opened at the appropriate moment
to convey fear, joy delight,
or whatever.
I do not feel in control;
rather, controlled.
And what of my fellow
human racers:
what do they see
when they look at me?
Do they ask of themselves
the same burning question
that haunts my every day:
Who am I?
The warm evening breeze
Caresses my skin as I sit
Beneath the old garden elm.
The chatter of birds echoes
Through the trees as they perform
Their spring mating ritual.
Redbirds, mocking-jays, and hummers
Scurry from limb to limb, jealously
Chasing foe from new-found lovers.
Enjoying the serious antics,
I hear the voice of the mourning dove
Calling its forever mate in the distance.
My thoughts turn to my own mate.
No longer within my sight
I remember your every detail as last seen.
You have left me as a bird in winter:
Sure to return to this nest
As time marches slowly,
And yet I ponder the burning question
Weighing upon my soul.
"Did you take out the trash, Dear?"
Day two of NPM
Day Two of NPM
April is national poetry month
OR
why eye can't have a girlfriend
old age has crept upp on eye
because of my broken teeth
it is a health hazard to kiss
overall appearances
halitosis and local laws forbidding marriage
of the poor and homeless
eye stink unwashed friendless old man in poverty land
but mostly because eye can’t even kiss
just putting my arm around women or kissing them is now offlimits
perhaps she has a rich boyfriend
either he or even her might just beat me too the
end of story time
a rhyme a rhyme a rhyme
she was a student of life was the girlfriend she has had old classmates people she still calls friends perhaps eye am the jealous eye perhaps love is not the answer to her burning question after all whom am eye
standards fall
infinite divisions
of a space call
for creations base
" eat me "
the waters taste
of completion
Aellopus delivers
revelation
a connection
reopens
and a field explodes
in subtle elation
an ocean
births a generation
" opposites attract "
answers
a burning question
" and the beauty of a point "
marks
the equation
it's the holy graphic
of a single
calculation
A tempting fabrication of imagination - not to be had
A simple answer to a burning question – not to be said
Through your eyes I see me as I want to be – not real
In my mind I see you as I want you to be – lies I do not fear
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