Questioners Poems | Examples

Old World

Until strife became the rule
You fled your World
Was it easy to break away
in your ward of questioners
Nobody seemed to care

This tag of war
I've seen your artillery
why cant you understand
Im leaving the World of  detractors

In the morning
open your eyes
Snowbright
keep a secret
tell us no lies

how can all the faeries fit

How can the entire faerie family fit into this tiny house?
The questioners did not realize it went underground
Had two levels, and faeries do not take up much room
They can fold themselves up, and even evaporate on whim

Oh, To Preach

Oh, to preach, to pontificate
Seize the “bully” pulpit
Bask in the reverberations
Of your own voice
Mock the sanctity of silence

To expound on the simplicity
Of the impossibly attainable
Berate the questioners
Expound on humility
In stained glass superiority

To infiltrate the openness
Of childlike minds
Inculcate the innocence
With tainted seed

Oh, rave on
You echo-chambered ego
Your bellicose denials
Deny their truth

John G. Lawless
©6/27/2023

Weird and Irreligious Thoughts 2023-001

I
God always wins the wager if we live long on earth... and even if we don't.

II
Some questions die with questioners; even if God heard the questioning daily (for 90 years)

III
If Jesus died for the sins of those born after 2000, will more from India and China be in heaven? Will whites be a minority in heaven?

IV
If race and color don't matter in heaven, God is miserly not to have given more practice here

Questions

The first question should have been the last
And the last the fifth
While we were awaiting the next questions
We should have watched out for the last
Though embedded within the third question
While asking the questioners
What emotions they intended to elicit
When they asked nude questions
Pornographic achievements
Of the men of the cloth
The only question we needed
Was the question of potency
The potency of impotent roots
Routed through impossible tunnels
In the red earth
But most of all
The questions should have come
From the depth of darkness
For there lies the birth of thought
And recollection of brightness
There where we spoke in hidden tongues
Yet revealed the mess of the subconscious
How many are listed?
Are we all party to silence?
I hate questions hence my asking none
I therefore shan’t respond to any of yours
They came with a test paper
So they could taste my mental vibrations
And drink of the words hidden in my imaginations
Whether first or last, 
There should not have been a question in the first place.

Westwing Propaganda Procedure

In Defense of Narcissistic Needs

Upon hearing a challenging message
requesting clarification for how some public policy
or rhetorical event
is also a public health-growing procedure,
do not bother to respond like a WinWin discerning adult
to the questioning messenger.

Instead,
personally attack the messenger,
the medium,
the massive media,
the too-liberal with questions questioners,
assuming a WinLose competitive agenda
rather than a cooperative open-systemic inquiry
rooted in health-systemic integrity
of compassionately transparent
vulnerable discernment,
actively hoping for WinWin
mutually-held truths
values
healthy norms

For both private 
and public
LeftWing and RightWing
non-violent communicating procedures.

Alliteration For Poets

Alliteration always awesome
Ballad beyond barnyard basics
Crystalline calls careful consonants,

Diamante delivers deeply
Enthusiasm excites eager ears,
Fanciful frolicking faerie

Generously gives grateful glee
Hyping haiku to heavenly heights,
Imagery and imagination

Jubilantly jumping joyfully,
Kimo kindles king-sized kingpin,
Lamenting the lily-livered lunacy

Momentous muse modulates melody,
Necromancer normalizes Neverland,
Opulent Opalescent orchestras opt

To pollute poetry previously pristine.
Quixotic quorum of questioners
Respond and recover rhymes rapidly

Serendipitous sentimentality
Turns timely tanka traitorously toward
Unmistakably understated Uranus,
Vindicating verses vilifying Vashti.

Whacking wannish warblers west,
‘Xaggerating ‘Xtemperaneous X’tra special poems
Yet yielding a yeomanly yearning toward
A zealous zany zingaroo of zest.

Nighttime Observations

Dehydrated, scared, 
Incontinent questioners
Children at bedtime

Rainbow Colored Camouflage

Rainbow Colored Camouflage


Screaming from within a day of “silence”
quieting all questioners
hiding beneath
the exclusive inclusion of
Rainbow Colored Camouflage

Demanding
a safe space,
a free voice,
equality
in all things.

Liberated victims
who would vanquish
all who disagree,
question,
inquire.

Intolerant
of those who
do not understand
such defiance.

Valiantly defending
a Rainbow Flag
that waves
beneath another,
pursuing a dream
that all should awaken too.

Hidden
in the folds of Rainbow Stripes
bloodstained stitching
mending hearts
within a
Rainbow Colored Consciousness.

©3/28/2017

submitted to – Rainbow Colored Camouflage – Poetry Contest

Sun Shines On the Righteous - For Contest

There was a cloud hung over him
a presence, an impending doom.
He seemed one lightning strike away
from enlightenment - or entombment.
Haunted by the stigma of divine dissatisfaction
a wanderer in a spiritual maelstrom
questioning the questions of the questioners,
thinking on the thoughts of the thinkers,
worshiping at the edges of heresy,
praying for the efficacy of his prayers.
Hidden in the silence of life’s tomb
innocence interred beneath this “cloud”.

The sun never shone, the rain never fell,
on the unrighteousness of the righteous.



4/10/2016

//This turned into a "Free Verse Sonnet".  Hope it works.//

submitted to – Sun shines on the righteous – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Seren Roberts

Eye Contact

Eye Contact


Some said he had those scary eyes,
unnerving, somehow seeming to look
clear through, capable of seeing the
truth – of you.  They didn’t stare at
you, just sort of found you and held
you in an eerie embrace.  There was
a glint to the eyes, a sharpness to
the edges, a weary, and wary, wiliness.
And yet, they drew you in, these cold
and smoldering, blue-gray questioners
of all they see.  Tight lines rimmed the
edges of the pools, white tipped lashes
fanning and refocusing the laser looks.
And then they smiled, as if something
had just reminded them of a pleasing
sight, a soft sunrise rose across his face,
a gentle fox to kit wink, an unguarded
moment on the parapet of life.


John G. Lawless
9/16/2014
For PD"S A poem you have not entered in a contest #12 poetry contest

Know-How

Things we think are obvious
Some others may not get.
If a question’s raised,
There should be no cause for regret.

Simple explanations help
To clarify what’s meant.
Often what’s interpreted
Is far from the intent.

How one states intentions
Can cause discontent or pique,
Not illumination, which is 
What the askers seek.

Wording and inflection
May change innocence to vice;
And challenging one’s know-how
May make questioners think twice.

I Want To Stay

until every blade of grass shrivels into eternal sand; 
until blue waters hollow dry and hippos disappear;
until moon-gloss turns sky-gone, the sun already vanished, 
replaced by the heat of risen souls.

By force alone will I let go my corporal life;
by force alone venture toward questions unresolved;
by force alone enter the realm of frightening mystery
never to doubt return?

Will I see the questioners and the faithful mingle?
Will I see them flung into the Church of The Divinely Revealed?
Will I see the Rev. Dr. Know-it-All who always has?
Will I see?


Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
May 10, 2013

Heart String Theory

Bound together by strings
that comprise matter
and antimatter, anything 
that does, could, or ever would matter.

That's why everything pulls together
then blasts apart
over and over
until we even don't flinch anymore.

Universes that fold over and under
manifold wrinkling
and tiny vibrations, little earthquakes,
that explain
                 
Everything.
 
There are hidden dimensions
all curled up
folded into common experience
so deeply buried we cannot attend to them.

Were we to think about them all the time
we might cease to do anything else.

I want to take up a violin
the bow hovering over the strings
and exact a deep series of pulls until the 
screeching sounds like music,
the metaphor of choice for philosophers,
physicists, and questioners of cosmic experience.

If the vibrations sound glorious
maybe the experience will be remembered as 
important, a lesson worth learning
instead of dissonance at a clumsy hand.

It is an elegant universe
with an explanation for everything --

Including why I miss you.

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