Without question or words, I am alone tonight with you, writing.
A menial task, at least.
If mine eyes were like the Sparrows', they would march out off and grab you. Today, I fuel these mean, tyrannical things.
If mine eyes have but bought the answer, the answer to Mine own pure heart, I would have sought out refuge in places zero, finding it; zero repeating it.
There are no words for which I can say that echo my thoughts as I read and write about my feelings on this cold, October morning. No words mentioned?
A hollow glass of timer shoots low upon my belly, it is made out of coal, and it believes it knows me.
It is brass and silver; It is my old, long-lost violin, the 'Scarecrow'.
Perhaps there's more to life here than meets the everlasting paths of divine entities. Yiuth being one of them, faith being one of the few.
I cannot reason with my thoughts if I am alone with those other inquiries, only fathom them. May they never sleep at night. May they never fathom...
It’s gravity that pulls me down!
Without it, I’d be free to fly.
This robe of clay, this mortal gown
prevents me reaching for the sky.
Hypotheses are often wrong:
“it’s gravity that pulls me down”
suggests the ground’s where we belong,
and “flight” is just an abstract noun.
Professors of immense renown
insist instead on “out” and “in”:
“it’s gravity that pulls me down”
is not the notion to begin
inquiries with. We ought to start
with spheres and centres. But I frown:
no planet draws me to its heart!
It’s gravity that pulls me down.
????CROWN THE MAJESTIC KING MITCHY????
Sitting at a quaint corner, I instantly viewed Instagram
Seeing a beautiful benevolent babe looking glam.
She's the only true Queen that's crowned King,
Her attitude bling, radiating like a golden spring,
Life's a better place bcos King Mitchy's kindness arose,
Magnificent maiden with a heart that glows.
Kind inquiries kindle her gentle gaze,
Mirthful melodies meet her golden days.
Compassion cascades in her charitable call,
Helping hands heal, alarmingly answering all.
Laughter layers love upon lofty longing lands,
Hopeful hearts hold her outstretched hands.
Philanthropic passion, a persistent plea,
Mitchy is as a melody, a merciful spree.
Blessings bestowed with a boundless beam,
Her golden gestures are a glistening dream.
Youthful yet wise, yielding to your needs,
Wholeheartedly weaving warm-hearted deeds.
Her tale of tenderness is truly a trove.
King Mitchy mirrors merciful & majestic love.
????VICK MANUEL POETRY????
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes/Alliteration
Copyright ©? 20th August 2025.
[email protected]
And also the army inspector general
Allow article of legislated fold to the company
That is to history a military companies issuance
Also this issuance of assembled congress
Issued legislation
Legislation signed is congressional directed spending
A law for the people by the people
Not to be obstructed by assembly of state outsiding a "lobby"
When Joe was young he had tonsilitis
In grade school he developed bronchitis
Later, elbow bursitis
And Colitis, Neuritis
Now that Joe’s old ~ he aches with arthritis
Little wonder Joe’s gender-conflicted
It could easily have been predicted
Sick of sports injuries
Joe made some inquiries
Plays dolls injury-free ~ he enlisted
Do state secrets still matter much?
What is so horrible they would reveal
That could really astound as such
Though most horrible are the most real
Compile some selected facts
Into a confident narrative
Bolster it by the visual acts
To make it look imperative
Call all the other theories
Conspiracy and populism
Never mind about your inquiries
That speak of the other ism
States keep their secrets because
Not everything they like to show
No time for repentance, no remorse
For the truth that is kept unknown.
Beyond a telescope lies a million mysteries.
There is space, a vacuum, filled with solar systems,
And the most beautiful planets orbiting amidst the stars.
Beyond a telescope there are comets which fly by as if they had wings.
There are asteroids which can be fascinating, yet deadly,
And there are puzzles waiting to be discovered.
Beyond a telescope are the galaxies that could nourish life.
There are spaceships searching for entities or beings to prove we are not alone,
Looking for even the smallest sign.
Beyond a telescope there is a cold darkness.
There are unknown and uncalculated risks,
And even petrifying thoughts.
Beyond a telescope lies the knowledge for tomorrow.
There are supernatural encounters,
And boundless new opportunities.
Beyond a telescope lies the answers no one asks.
There are the investigations no one seeks,
And the unanswerable inquiries.
She shared a tactile fancy
Explored the feelings of the world
Inquiries of subtle touch
Within her head vision unfurled
She visited a wooded glen
Saw through sound and scent and presence
That she could hold within her hands
By touching life – it’s very essence
Also hear within old cities
Oily boisterous tarmac tales
Hold still the warmth of evening's kiss
Amid the rows of brownstone vales
But most she cherished faces true
To who they are and what they do
Wrinkles, creases, stories told
Once her’s the only one she knew
John G. Lawless
©6/13/2023
Our shifts are duly spent
Of police duty known and meant
And inquiries followed through
In the daily things we do
One day this can turn dangerous
When this duty becomes onerous
And an offender attacks unclean
With a sharp weapon stabbing mean
For Ian Todd and Jordan Allely were stabbed
At Crystal Brook by Sean Ferris so bad
And Ferris was shot down in the attack
With these officers surviving as a fact
But this was not the end of the fight
For Ian and Jordan it was not light
With a neighbour on the spot
Stemmed the blood flowing a lot
The other police ands paramedics were there
Saving both officers for operations later with care
We were all thankful for both being saved
Hoping and praying for their lives so brave
Hail to both of our brothers we say
Speedy recovery for them from the wounds that day
Our appreciation to all the emergency services helping them
And the neighbour a thank-you we send.
© Paul Warren Poetry
QUESTIONS….
They thought my
dinnertime inquiries
about their days at public school
were interrogations, investigations
pursuant to suspicions of misbehavior,
missing homework, dissatisfaction or
deeply hidden traumas needing parental
intervention
I must have seemed imposing and
invasive, annoyingly aggressive as
I peppered them with questions, ignored
their heavy sighs of resistance, their impatient
rustle of reluctance and refused to accept
their silence as they hid behind their mother
like Black Bear cubs in a forest making sense of
dangerous smells
Unhappy in my marriage
all I wanted was to know them,
understand their thoughts and dreams,
share in every new adventure, in every exploration,
in every damn discovery and in the daily new
delights that only thoughtful kids delivered,
full of bright and shining promises taking flight
toward the future, making me really glad
to love them, making me glad
to be their Dad!
Few now remember the horror of November 22nd
The year was 1963, and it seems a long time ago,
But by American history and memories reckoned
The death of the president far eclipsed Mar-a-Lago.
On that day President John F. Kennedy was killed,
Shot to death in old Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Texas,
It was said accomplished by a man not-so-skilled,
And the inquiries and investigations were endless.
For years news media commemorated the event
But, nowadays, scarcely a mention will be made
Seems how the passing of history to oblivion is sent
The world mourned when in Arlington JFK was laid.
Written November 22, 2022
Box turtle, box turtle,
Won’t you play with me?
I found you in the shady woods
Just underneath that tree.
Box turtle, box turtle,
Won’t you come outside?
Don’t stay all closed up in that shell;
You’ve got no need to hide.
Box turtle, box turtle,
How do you ever grow?
It must be hard; you drag that house
Wherever you may go.
Box turtle, box turtle,
How do you hide those feet?
The way you tuck them up inside
Is really pretty sweet!
Box turtle, box turtle,
I’ll let you take a rest.
I guess that all my inquiries
Must have you pretty stressed.
Box turtle, box turtle,
I’ll sit and wait awhile.
It’s not like you’ll go racing off
And run a country mile.
Box turtle, box turtle,
You’ve really got a knack.
I hardly took my eyes off you;
O won’t you please come back?
We are all waiting to die and
the way that we wait is the only thing
that sets us apart.
Most rather not mention or think about death
so they live every day as if another one
is automatically guaranteed.
Filling days with temporary delight
and self inquiries into small fleeting pleasures.
Death doesn't amaze me but my prize for enduring
this earth is what garners my attention. I sit anxiously
in anticipation for what I have earned.
I know death will come for me when it is ready.
I respect death so I'm still here
just waiting to die
If you asked, I would speak to you of God
pray tell – would you really listen
or would your mind be turning pages in reply
my inquiry rebuffed by righteous sigh.
Or would a probing thought from out the gate
cause you to summon those who keep the book
lest I test your faith with inquiries unknown
and the cover of your piety unhook.
And yet a fear resides within my soul
an aching to be freed of doubts parole
to grasp the essence of the truths I’ve known
to walk upon a path not found – but shown.
Call me what you will – but not a fraud
for if you asked - I would speak to you of God.
John G. Lawless
©1/2/2022
Celestial moments
acquired while touching
heaven's door
Airtight dreams of gold
dust particles,
finding their way home
Across an aerial thresh hold
a key hole of awe
soulant inquisitive inquiries
how did I get here,
do I belong here ?
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