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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Love Looked at Me and Laughed and other poems - 9. what he could never do

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Poem No. 21

 

Love is surrender, and that you could never do.

No pain could be greater.

To come to a fact, and find where

you hoped it wouldn’t be….

     

 

 

Poem No. 22

 

No armies of the world,

now, or all the ones passed,

possessed power to conquer

the task I have been given

 

 

 

Poem No. 23

 

Prelude:

 

How many times did he do the dishes?

I know not

His motives for doing them with such fervor?

I know not

 

We ask questions to discover what we don’t know.

Why we ask them, do any of us know?

 

There are so many solutions, more than questions

I know not

My own motives for asking them with such fervor?

I know not

 

 

Poem:

 

State enough solutions

and one day you’ll find the right question.

 

 

Postlude:

 

Dare we displace the mysteries that are?

Turn the rock of the question,

and be stung by the scorpion of truth?

 

Life is too short to ask it all,

forever too narrow to know it all,

death only a hiccup in the quest.

 

What answers do I need to live?

Only that it’s my chance to give

more questions to those yet to live.

 

_

Copyright © 2018 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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26 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

Poems 21 and 22, taken together, form two powerful punches. Jarred by them, I wondered as I read Number 23. Read once again, this trio sounded as a melancholy solo, reverberating in an empty house. These haunt me. 

Aww, thank you for reading and commenting, Parker. Yes, it was a pretty desolate feeling to know our love was a one-way street after all, at least as far as he could admit.

 

 

Edited by AC Benus
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I've read these a few times now. They are all asking the same thing .. all walking to the same place, willingly or not, and that is to here:

 

Turn the rock of the question,

and be stung by the scorpion of truth?

 

You know the answer in your heart. And you know the answer lies beneath the stone, yet to turn it means pain - but you do it because until it bites, there is always the question..am i right or not?    Thanks, AC xo

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12 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

I've read these a few times now. They are all asking the same thing .. all walking to the same place, willingly or not, and that is to here:

 

Turn the rock of the question,

and be stung by the scorpion of truth?

 

You know the answer in your heart. And you know the answer lies beneath the stone, yet to turn it means pain - but you do it because until it bites, there is always the question..am i right or not?    Thanks, AC xo

Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts, Tim. I suppose you are right, and they all inhabit the same emotional space, and I like your summation. Thanks again! 

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9 hours ago, Lyssa said:

Very impressive poems! Questions which can not be answered are very hurtful. Probably just as much as questions, which one dares not to ask out loud. Thank you for sharing. Muha 🙂

Thank you, Lyssa! Yes, what you say here is true -- the questions which cannot be answered are often the cruelest. Thank you again for reading my work. Hugs 

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