Thursday, April 2, 2009


I was born with a question mark
on my forehead.
Though this attracted
no small attention
my constant queries soon
became wearisome to all
around me.
So I learned to speak with grace
and quiet.

But you must forgive me.

Some questions
need be shouted
and refuse to remain


christopher said...

Questions And Answers

I hear you call from
halfway across this old world
as if from my heart,
the same kinds of things
I lay in the lap of God,
demanding reply.
He does and says this,

The questions are important,
the answers are not.

CathM said...

I like the ending stanza of this poem a lot... it hits the nail on the head, so-to-speak!