Answers

Answers

O, ye of many questions

How thou dost annoy me

With thy never ending fountain

Of mellifluous, yet provocative

Interrogations and inquiries.

Lo, I am weak from illness

But more than that, from perusing

All thy probings

Of my cranial gray matter

And the subsequent headaches.

Alas and alack!

When God created thee

Out of the miry clay

Surely He didn't mean

To fill thy head with

This virtual multitude

Of endless questions.

But then He blessed thee

With so much of so many things

Not the least of which

Is thy charm and tenderness

Not to mention 

The sweetest lips in all of creation

And for that gift alone, 

I can forgive thee of all

Thy aggravations.

Indeed, my prince

And Knower-of-the-Unknown

I would venture to say

That with thy flowery prose

Of yesteryear

Thou would surely maketh

Even Keats and Shakespeare

Throw down their quills

And give up any notion of

Ever being a poet.

Not to mention discouraging

D.L. Lawrence to stop

In the middle of writing Lady Chatterley's Lover

And confess that he cannot compare

To the erotic mysterious odes 

To love and sex that thy hands

And imagination have wrought.

Indeed, again,

My wandering troubadour

Thy words are like a enigmatic road map

To unknown territories and unseen delights

Spread out over the page for me to follow

Not knowing if it is true what thou hast written

Or just the act of throwing words together 

With no thought at all but follow blindly I must.

And as to thy latest batch 

Of questions, questions, questions......

Asked by thyself and also myself

From the depths of my wondering heart

After much deliberation and sincere

Searching of soul............

I must give thee the answer to every question

Both large and small that thou hast asked

And it is simply this:

Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!

©by Voo

May 3, 2019

3:15 a.m.

🤡😜👀😍🤦‍♂️🤦‍♀️❤




Questions by Bamboo