Each one of us is a question mark,
Striving,
An exclamation point to become!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
27 July 2026
-
As always, I would like to share the honor with all my poet friends who had the time to visit me today. I would also like to thank the officials of PoetrySoup for honoring my humble poem. Blessings
Question mark ?
Whose words are final
Who made the poor bleeds
Who controls our energy
Yes who do we look up to
When we are weak and fed up
Who destroyed our culture
Who made us empty with out help
Who was our friend
Who is the enemy
Too long our reality is blue
Who put the red mark on it
Who draw the lines of hates or love
Whose God do we worship
Whose opinion do we surrender to
Are we still alive or are we just existing
So Whose words are final without a
Question mark ?
Question mark ?
Who corrupted our natural benefit
Who cut off the life of the little ones
With wars atrocities and shame
Who was the strangers
Who will stand for us in our hard times
Whose temple will talk to the gods on our behalf when calamity hits our land
Who is the invader
Who is the master
Who is a slave
Whose rules will be our remedy
When our opinion don’t count
Who really and truly loves the poor
I truly wonder who is truly poor
In a world that gives more than enough to our needs
So whose words are final without a
Question mark ?
I didn't borrow it, it's apart of me
Like the rainbow fleece
Like a trophy waiting for me
Like the breath I breathe and need
But it leaves
Flowing like my tears, a river doesn't have enough water to see
I have the Midas Touch
I turn poems into paintings
That shine like the sun because diamonds have too much shade
The pressure is not from fear of messing up but fear that happily ever after may not come
I have the Midas Touch
p.s. but I can't seem to put my finger on the right relationship...
You are now dead, but
still in my head.
What should I do?
You kind of reflect in my eyes
when I close my lids.
The deceased can't talk, but you do in my ears.
What's happening? It's so weird.
My throat gets dry when I swear
I will let throw you out from my brain.
My veins throb when I say, 'I don't want you.'
Is this a video game or someone playing a prank?
Am I brave that I still battle with a soul?
Or will I find peace, or will it shatter me into pieces?
A to Z 1 to Infinity - , Eureka's;: N O M O?
VOILA!
Being kicked to the curb
while skipping to the loo
my friends.
Now back to my shake and bake,
small town of Hilo,
that sits on the bay
below erupting
Mauna Loa &
the 100+ tremors
daily since it began
this past Sunday late at night.
Aloha Hilo Poet William
Are my Last Legs in Sight?
Are my ‘Last Legs’ in Sight?
My time’s ‘last legs?’ Are knees (or some cylinders knocking)?
I’ve petal to metal (feel stuck in low gears).
Left side’s window won’t open; oil under hood freshens
cab air (is it dripping, perhaps, on exhaust?)
Of late, dipstick’s plumb rusty (indecent exposure
to liquids that pampering doesn’t restrain).
And my faith in what’s up too counts less than what’s grounded
where tread on ground flagellates brain’s flag in sky.
I love days where I spend time on porch now just rocking,
greet neighbors who come by, friends gained with the years,
and I’ve more time for feelings; poetic expressions
arriving get tenure, and fewer are lost.
Some voice praise for my verse, some eyes glaze (full disclosure).
First group wins blue ribbons as friends of left brain.
I sure hope that this poem’s read’s fun (none feel pounded)
for no one enjoys life’s true friends more than I!
Brian Johnston
7th of April in 2022
I told them, my back against the wooden
dock, staring, eyes wide in the lack of light.
If aliens came for me, I told them,
I would pick up and gladly go tonight.
Above us was that vast inviting sky.
Around us, the sweatshirt-and-flip-flops of
late spring, we searched for constellations. High
above us we found Leo. How I love
the idea of escaping there. I stopped
and asked do you ever flip the universe
in your head? We are not lying on top
of earth but hanging off the bottom. Curse
gravity for not letting me embark
into the crystal backwards question mark.
sweet moonlight glow from
beaus on rippling shoreline, but
can this vivid yen linger?
wave of pulsing sighs
infinite in heartfelt pledge?
timeless dream phase I wonder
Created and posted ; 16th of July 2021
Salome just loved gingerbread
But Herod misheard what she said
Who wants a dead head
To bounce in their bed?
So she dashed to the John instead
*Title inspired by Special Character, Ilene Bauer
a single cuckoo - -
two tiny sparrows feed the
big chick in their nest
written 25th February for Constance's Spring Birds contest
Although I basically disagree with the saying that there are no stupid questions I would say that there are not too many smart questions.
?
I need to find a stronger kind of love.
Not a love that could become,
But one that has been destined.
I have no time for mere pretending.
Not a love taken to build it wrong;
Love does not last if it begins undone.
Love must be free for me to find it,
Because I am unlike any other, I truly am gifted.
True love truly believes in the truth,
While all else fails through lack of faith.
I believe in your empty needs, you they suit,
But I am searching for a unique kind of grace.
If I was like you then the whole world would remain wrong.
All the tales you tell are other people’s songs.
Go create and live your life.
Allow me to find the right shape and then I will be gone…
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
What are objects?
a silly question many will say
an interruption to things of importance..
the chair is the chair..now on to my
daily schedule..uninterrupted please..
however..after much searching to
satisfy desires..pausing with the question
might be finally reconsidered..finding that
an inbred belief in objects can be rattled
with attention to experience..telling of the
frailty of of such belief..
we experience in wholes..not in chairs
claiming their independence..
the chair reconsidered shows up as
perception temporarily..then perceiving..
a walking back to the Reality which
has been quietly waiting for
recognition..
those objects we knew before the question
now appear as they always appeared
but somehow now..satisfying the desires
we had painfully pursued...
Homage to Catalonia?
Policeman wielding batons or shedding a welled up tear,
Flag waving populace or staying home in fear,
State defence of self, or defending an historic lie,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Turning out to vote, or disobedient serf,
Democratic abuser or defending right of birth,
Violent state repression or debating reasons why,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Hurried lines drawn on maps or quite beyond the pale,
Land up for rental or permanently for sale,
Freedom of expression or state to look and pry,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Part of bigger state, or standing on your own,
Wired in kit at home, or mobile telephone,
Going with a third, or vote not home and dry,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
©Keith Murphy
It's so refreshing to see
Someone else like me
I thought I'd never meet
Somebody like you
You're not just anybody, are you?
You're my saviour
You're my star
To save me
You'd have gone real far
Now it's time
Yeah its time to repay ya
I dunno how but I'll find some way y'all
So keep chopping those verbs
No mincing of words (except the silly swear words rules:)
Cos one bowl of soup
Could feed the whole world.
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