Por Que Pig asked why Jews do not pigs buy
Petunia answered him with a deep sigh
It’s because we aren’t kosher
Then, losing her composure
If Jesus Christ were only a rabbi...
A query is a letter
And could be a starting step
To discover if an agent
Might become your writing rep.
It’s a process, I am learning,
Which takes hours of your time,
Often never making progress
Up the mountain you must climb.
The advice that I have gotten
Said, “Be patient and expect
Many, many more rejections
Than attempts that might connect.”
That makes sense, so I won’t wallow
In predictable defeat,
But my query theory lets me dream,
And fantasy is sweet.
My peace a distant memory,
and hope so far removed
My fears return to wonder,
When the madness will ensue
Each tortured voice which torments me,
When I've pondered at the door
Has whispered softly in my ear,
'What are you fighting for?'
'When forgiveness seems so silent,
and your sorrows seem so loud
Do your fears escape detection,
as you face the maddening crowd?'
'Will hope remain your company,
While shadows conquer light
When dreams have all but vanished,
Til you've lost the will to fight'
As I shivered in the silence,
That each shadow ushered in
While all the voices in my head,
Were screaming once again
I tried to yell 'surrender!',
'Just tell me what is true!'
My mind a distant memory,
No hope left to remove
I have always been a bit wary
of Gary, Mary, Sherry and Larry
They each seem a little bit contrary
Fighting over blue, straw, or raspberry
I took this to Carrie, our head faerie
She thought my query was a tad bit airy
Looked it up in her faerie dictionary
Experts’ opinions appeared to vary
Enter an expert from a local dairy
his name was Smart Guy Mr. Perry
Sherry and I intended to someday marry
But count not agree on the right berry
Next, I consulted my wizard friend Hubert Harry
His preference is for a soft, dainty, pink raspberry
In the meantime. Sherry eloped with my cousin Terry
Now I have no use for them or Larry, Gary or Mary
One kiss and I fall like
A green leaf on the bed
Your lullaby lips
Go to my head
I find my body tingles
At just the thought of
Any kind of interaction with you
Real or imagined
So much so I wonder if it
Will be harder to deal with reality
Should we ever meet
Than it is to live in fantasy
Ears hug your baritone voice
When you call like a conductor
I have no choice but follow
Your lead the music we create
From love letters via text
iPhones FaceTime we make
A fantasy world where we
Are together despite distance
I close my eyes and listen
To my red heart beat for you
Musically yours beats for me too
So why don’t we cross thousands
Of miles to share reality
Versus an internet smile
Expecting change that never comes…where then does it go?
Someone has said that
The best soldiers are well fed
Why we import rice?
Today, I do hope to acquire
A reply from the girl I admire
For I soon will request
To be ever so blessed
With her love, that to gain, I aspire
A supposition:
If one queries or answers:
'.., my love" in nearly innumerable conversational situations, one can experience soulful harmony previously thought mere pipe dream or malicious tease.
Try it.
Who says the best things in life aren't free, my love?
psyche
wonders ruffled
in confused realm
in inner
screen
a haze
drifter
doubts
sprout
inquering
& seekng
shifting
reality
of life
it’s
query
mute
"In the dawn of creation, a question we ponder is, Why did God make man, in slumber, to wander? Before crafting the counterpart, female and fair, Did He pause to consider, to deeply compare?
For women, they say, are a mystery untold, In desires and wishes, their hearts often fold. With complications veiled in a delicate dance, Why didn't God grant them an equal chance?
Did He foresee the challenge to please, decipher their wants, their complex degrees? Yet in every woman, there lies a grace, A puzzle worth solving, in the first place.
So, God, we beg, reveal your intent, In granting man sleep, what message was sent? For in understanding women, we find A journey of love, both gentle and kind.
The Query of Life
When you are young and life’s just begun,
Your blood is in full flow and you are raring to go;
Your dreams are high, they touch the sky,
Will they last or fade?- you never know!
When you are in midlife, life is full of strife,
You are always in a hurry, with many things to worry about;
You make new bonds, you create new ties
Will they last or fade?- you never know!
When you are old and your skin begins to fold,
You feel so beat, you drag your feet;
Your memories are all you have, moments so few,
Will they last or fade?- you never know!
All through life, you’ve earned many a name,
Some call you a sinner, some a saint;
Fame and shame, with you they grew,
Will they last or fade?- you never know!
The earth is what you see today
What it is tomorrow, you can never say!
Will the elements be just the same,
Or will they last or fade- you never know!
Of what use are gloves to fingers
that only understand mittens?
This quizzical query lingers
in my thoughts, applied to kittens.
These tiny balls of fluffy joy
roam unleashed, exploring their world.
And like an adorable toy,
each looks gorgeous, with its tail curled.
Yet, trying to teach them a trick
is a waste of time; that's so true.
And it is not because they're thick,
they just don't perform as dogs do.
Oblivious to my commands,
they both come and go as they wish.
And tend to ignore my demands
unless I'm refilling their dish.
They're accustomed to living free,
born strong-willed, and independent.
Yet, they choose to snuggle with me,
sharing a love; that's transcendent.
(Quatrain)
01/08/2023
Of what use are gloves to fingers
that only understand mittens, contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Who am I ? I wonder oft
And hope that I may see,
Just who it is that's me,
And ask my maker up aloft
Who, indeed, I be?
Whyfor I'm here I ask aloud
And yearn for his reply,
And search for reason why,
From he beyond the cloud
Who, indeed, be I?
What use am I? I cannot know
If I am never told
What place that I should hold,
The direction I should go,
Until, indeed, I'm old.
When do I die? I ask again
When will my day be through?
If, now, I only knew,
I query this in vain
I do; indeed, I do.
No answer do I, yet, receive,
For he replying not,
A reason for my lot
Then, am I when I take my leave,
The soul that God forgot?
On a world so dark and dreary
Even God is downright teary
Old Satan guessed
Putin needs rest
Or is Satan growing leery?
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