Questioning Poems - Poems about Questioning

To ponder or not to ponder - that is the question. Is it a waste of my precious seconds, minutes, hours To dwell on the questions that plague my mind? I spend my waking and waning hours mulling and considering, Crashing waves of question marks and possibilities Dance around in my mind's eye, quelling the beast of sleep. A skeptical girl's...

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Hey Universe Why you coming at me so hard? Did I do some sht to piss ya off? Or you just playing some evil part? Its all getting kinda rough Im not nearly tough enough To get through this & come up been kickin me down so much Im bruised & lumped up in every possible spot I can touch I've...

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When God said “Let there be light” Was it meant literally or metaphorically? Did time arise crafting the photon with the intent of illuminating the basis of reality? An observational lens providing the closest assumption of truth? Or did the limit of human consciousness take precedence. Therefore, implying we needed to be saved from the void of ignorance, as light is the transference...

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I am scared, Totally confused I fear the worst  Of the world this time. Why did this happen? Why oh why to him? My sweet baby brother. So young is he, I cannot understand Why this does happen. While muscles may grow And the heart beats harder, Too hard, it beats. Trouble has started. I wish that this would end. So young is he, To put up with this life. Too full...

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delusional old bricks, red and crumbling flowers bright blue and crisp and i wondered where you had gone behind a wall that did not exist the sky silently wept over me clouds crawled by like angels wings san francisco died in the swirling mist it was just one of those things a melody whined through my head pianos and violins kept the music slow i decided...

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Free falling into chaos always seemed like child's play to me, something so natural to descend into I could call it breathing. To allow those inky, black tendrils to seep into every pore, every mark, every imperfection. I called to it like a master, of my own darkness, my own death. I willed it at my command, and...

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Reality dissolved the madness of life ends eternity begins...!...

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Companionship or romance, what's the difference? Is it through death that we depart? But even friends share that remark. Is it dinner with a view? But with friends I'd still pursue. Is it the coffee shop or show? But with friends I often go. Is it through language that we flow? But my partners have no difference. What's the difference? Could it only be emotion? That...

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Doubts are always hiding/ Inside each of us/ Life is hard/ We will never be rid of it/ Lurking in the back of the mind/ In dormant mode/ Only to be shot forth/ Like a bullet/ To keep assaulting one's mind/ It's hard not to doubt/ With the world we live in/ More people getting more shady/ Everybody leading us to trust issues/ I hate doubting someone/ I guess...

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Usury and surplus value, barbarity and treachery do not adorn with love and poetry.... ...

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The moon rises high, casting its pale light, Yet my soul remains shrouded in endless night I toss and turn, unable to find respite, Its memory lingers, my constant despot Savage feelings leave me in full dread, Haunting; my mind, refusing to depart Its presence, a constant in my head, Consuming my thoughts, tearing me apart Tossing and turning, sleep evades my bed, What...

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The Lord asks, “Where are you, O Man?” “Come into my bosom, hold onto my right hand.” Yet our hearts so cloaked in unbelief We see and hear, but don't perceive Instead, we look around for an excuse That His call, His rule, we may refuse This groaning world, steeped in deep sorrow So Him we deny, that in grief we may...

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are you a time traveler from the future or from the past? He stared at me. You guess, he said. I guessed from the future. He nodded. Why had he told me? What was the goal? He was a stranger. I began to walk away. He reached out and touched my arm. Don’t you want to know your great-great-great-grandson? He asked me. I sat on a...

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The ends justify the means Machiavelli oxymoron or Ovid paraphrases......

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Why do we start with ideas, the seeds of human might? To shape our destinies, to make our futures bright. But how do we turn those ideas into a path so clear? With goals and purpose guiding us, dispelling every fear. Are these lessons taught in schools, to each and every one? Or do we let them wander, until their...

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