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The fall might pour into the river,
Water at the bank in its length,
Yet whatever fine trouble arouses
Don’t ever ask why, through it all

My loved ones, they never showed care in the dark
Much like my colleagues to me,
Like a tree in the rain,
I hold out in such vain
Because I never question nature or its reasons

The tenor of my time,
In all our ambience—
Bear in mind,
Bear in time—
Please!
Don’t ever ask why.
Forgotten Dreams Jun 2014
I don't want much...just for you to talk to me again...Is that too much for me to ask?
Elise E Apr 2014
Sometimes I look at myself
And ask “Lord, why this, why that;
And I am blinded from the world
And where it’s really at.

Why must my house be so small
While others’ very great?
And though my words seem meaningful
My heart is full of hate.

Why must my wardrobe be so scarce,
I wish I did have more?
And some kids have a pair of pants,
Two tops and nothing more.

Sometimes I am ponderous
Of why I have asked “why?”
And when I look back o’er my life
I do so with a sigh.

Lord, forgive me when I act this way
I’ve been this way since birth.
I know You can forgive
‘Cause Your greatness fills the earth.


#1_ 12/9/10
If you're like most middle class people, you've had one or more of those episodes where you wish you had more. Right? This was my first poem. I wrote it almost four years ago after I had taught my self a lesson in thankfulness.
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
"Grow up tall,
little kid,"
said grandpa Joe.
And so I did.

The watermelon grow tall too.
The sunflowers look to the sky,
keeping their chins up,
raised real high.

So maybe it's silly,
watching grass grow,
but if you never try,
how could you ever know?

So maybe it's crazy,
chanting for the rain,
but if it never comes,
how could I grow the grain?

I'd prefer to stare at clouds,
than sleep forever like a rock,
skidding by life.
Why, that would just ****!

So, if you ask me to leave this here place,
you better shove it,
before you wake up
in an unknown space,
******* with lace,
with a disfigured face,
completely full of mace,
and a strange case
of something poisonous.
Jedidiah May 2014
With every passing day,
I find me.
Thinking, and wondering to myself
Who I can possibly be.

Through days, and through nights
Through every season that comes to pass
I can't help, but wonder of these
infinite possibilities.

You can say, I'm a dreamer.
But expect me to say "maybe"

Maybe I am

I say, "Maybe" because a part of me is unsure...
whether these dreams will reach its reality.
I say, "Maybe" because just maybe...

Maybe I'm afraid.

Then I realized
There is no "maybe"
only "am" or "am not"

I am afraid...

I'm afraid to fail.

then I ask myself...
Am I more afraid to fail, or
Am I more afraid of having my last words as
"If only I had tried"
"If only I did"?
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