“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, November 13, 2015
Curiosity killed the Question Mark
Attempt to ask questions all day?
Seriously?
How am I supposed to do that?
Without sounding like I'm two?
Why is the sky blue?
I thought you knew?
Would it be prying?
Am I mocking you?
What did you just say?
Am I mocking you?
Am I not catching on?
Am I deaf?
Losing you?
What if I know the answer?
Do I keep it to myself?
What should I do if I am as lost as you?
Should I be asking you?
Who cares?
Who knows?
Where is this going?
Do you have directions?
Do you enjoy making the decisions?
Why do I ask?
I thought you knew, was I wrong?
Can't you see?
Indefinitely, (rhetorically)
this questionable method
offers no direct answers.
Image By PookieFugglestein (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons, Short-eared Owl Asio flammeus on fence post, Lexington Kentucky.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Justice
It is only with calloused hands that the heavy body can claw and leverage the self upward on the thorny vine of a life without wince and whi...
-
Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
-
Sun lifting the veil of purple sky- might bronze forge strength pungent as the turned dirt? Thirsting through exposition, hi...
No comments:
Post a Comment