Why?
A collaborative poem, result of a Facebook Poetry Round started by Boss Lady Lia!
(Lia)
Just 3 letters, short and snappy
yet so fraught with meaning
It can be innocent, curious
or belligerent, ready to pick a fight..
Bordering between a question & confrontration,
People often forget curiosity killed the cat,
Subliminal tones on social media & text,
This three letter word - so easily misinterpreted.
(Jack Malik)
“I’m okay”
(Dhabitah Zainal)
Or so I have trained myself to believe over the years
Because no one has provided me with answers,
Just more layers
of questions that linger on in my mind
even after they told me:
"some things aren't meant to be
interrogated -
they're meant to be accepted."
(Gwendonline E. Hay)
and after so many years training cats to stay in bags
and teaching curiosity it's meant to be seen on report cards and not heard in polite society
the word still fits too easily in my mouth
tastes like strength
tastes like salt
tastes like sparks
and every conversation starts smelling like gasoline
(Endah Nilah)
I know now that when I ask why
like Shiva threatening to open his third eye,
I should expect nothing less than
a tidal wave surging to meet my depths,
forest fire crackling with the ferocity of veracity.
When I ask why,
I hold gasoline in my mouth
to the flaming sword I am yet to swallow,
but don't you dare go easy on me!
I expect nothing less.
(Kieran Mathers)
Why does the sea rise and fall
The moon the master of it?
Why do your children die when
It opens its tsunami jaws and
Pulls them from our arms
And souls
Our science is cold, our
Mathematics soulless
Where is God in the numbers?
Why, we scream?
Maths is no deity to rage at.
(Jack Malik)
hooked again, pulled back to the poetry pool
puddles of words, I don't know what to say
Hey, here's my beat up soul saying what ever stream of mind run fast
trying not to be last
even not the best
screw rhymes and times counting
let it be Freeflowing running burning with the machinery of the gizmo poetic en papillote fragance smelling the steam of holiness and finding a cooked three letter words--"i don't know"
What do i know except what my mind already knows off
(Mohd Zhafir)
Why?
Why me?
Why now?
For I do not dare, I'm ill-prepared.
Nahh, I'm ill and prepared,
Always up for the challenge, never scared,
But that's neither here nor there,
I'm just lost, and I'm just trying to get by,
So that is why, I, am asking "why".
(Will Beale)
Oh why there
didn't see you out the corner of my why there
how why can you why this why line can you cross it with your why stare can you why me bare why me fair if you could, but you can't,
so I'll wait here for my why hair
when I ? and you .
I just mouth the ? so
you think I can
think I care
(Melizarani Selva)
whY comes before Z
Shores wait for seas
Water aches to be tea
Weather counts on trees
Gods toy with the planetary
You chose I before me
And wondered
Why don't we love in
alphabectical order.
(Han)
It got deep for a bit, but let me up anchor,
because why is no more than a cri de coeur.
This stanza is short but you'll find no cleaner.
(Tasha)
Mama told me to clean my teeth with the right items,
But she failed to tell me how to cleanse my soul,
And as I fumble around,
Reaching,
Grasping,
For something,
I pass go and land on 'why' once again.
(Swit Marie)
Why?! What?! Where?! Who?! When?!
How were these the only questions we knew to ask back then,
As generations grow older more issues become questionable,
Why did we lose hope? Why has the world become untreatable?
Why do we try to pretend that we do not care?
When in truth, deep down we do not ask because we do not dare...
I am barely getting by,
Don’t ask me why,
With mellow eyes I will just sigh,
And then proceed to tell you a lie,
Because ‘Why?’ is a question you must not ask,
As answering that question is a difficult task.
(Satpal Kaler)
No thank you.
I say that every time someone tries to open their heart to me, for the blade in my hand twitches in excitement for fresh blood.
To save you,
No thank you.
(Ain Nabila)I say that every time someone tries to open their heart to me, for the blade in my hand twitches in excitement for fresh blood.
To save you,
No thank you.
the mistakes i've bare brings up the why's
again,
as i wonder if i ever deserve to be saved,
from the voices of the sky i held my eyes tight,
and pray for another daylight.
(Su Aishah)
Why love a soft person?
For they have heart
Listen to their voice
As they listen to yours
Understand their insecurities
From their scarred past
Give them time
To embrace their new freedom
Love a soft person
Whose soul is genuine
Who can give you love
Loyalty and affection
Don't love a soft person
If you can't be one
Spare them their sorrow
If you won't be their tomorrow
(Abby Latif)
Quite lost in game I know not of
And suddenly being tagged, well, sort of
Before someone shouts bugger off
(Lester)
So why ask “why”?
When the feelings it implies
is like a fly-by-night highfalutin
Putin pushing applied lies
while salutin’ paralysed flies
who are fishing for lootin’ guys
through cushy cat thighs
accompanied by the douchey cries
of disenchanted and disillusioned daintily demonized
dilettantes defyin’ their disguised demise.
(Cat Brogan)
Disguises hide skin we decide
Is unacceptable to the eye
But the pupil learns what to take in
And learns the beauty of within
My Lord, expand for me my chest
And ease for me my task
And untie the knot from my tongue
So that they may understand
Why I learned from a book
To my soul, it verily shook
Truths and knowledge brought by a teacher
Whose lessons, no one wanted to hear
That the answer to why may not lie
In chemicals, and numbers, or in the wants, and minds
But instead it stood much deeper
In the one, The Responder to Prayers
(Lia)
Wherever you may seek your answers to the Why,
Small “Whys”, Big “Whys”, maybe it just occurred to me “Whys”
Or the fleeting moments of “Why”s
In reality, it may not be as important where you find those answers
As the fact that you keep asking those questions.
Why, why, why?
- Sherjoyen Wobustamy & The Good Poets of Facebook
SB is a conflicted soul of sorts, who is mad enough to go chase after what she really loves as opposed to conform to society and her mother's idea of a successful person. She prays she makes it in life, because she will not be able to tolerate the nagging that would follow if she doesn't. Her inspiration comes from everything around her, as well as made up situations in her head. Good luck distinguishing between the two.
SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaids.
She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made.
She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.
She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.
JN is the one who doesn't take chances, but she's working on that. She's powering through life, one day at a time. Even with all that life throws her, you'll always see her with a smile. She's a hopeless romantic, hopeless beyond repair. You may say she's a dreamer, but she's got her feet on the ground.
Jack Malik is a rising poet whose poetry consist of email drafts, facebook statuses and random tweets. He believes it is not about WHY you write but HOW you construct that path which calls you to write.
Angelia Ong, often known as #evilauntielia, is a multi-faceted woman who is trying to help educate demigods and assorted extras. In her spare time (hah!), she loves, writes, eats, swims, and hopefully encourages others to find their voices in the cacophony that is the world today.
She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made.
She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.
She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.
JN is the one who doesn't take chances, but she's working on that. She's powering through life, one day at a time. Even with all that life throws her, you'll always see her with a smile. She's a hopeless romantic, hopeless beyond repair. You may say she's a dreamer, but she's got her feet on the ground.
Jack Malik is a rising poet whose poetry consist of email drafts, facebook statuses and random tweets. He believes it is not about WHY you write but HOW you construct that path which calls you to write.
Angelia Ong, often known as #evilauntielia, is a multi-faceted woman who is trying to help educate demigods and assorted extras. In her spare time (hah!), she loves, writes, eats, swims, and hopefully encourages others to find their voices in the cacophony that is the world today.
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