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07 Nov 2006

Why do we die,
when we are still alive.
Why do our flames burn out,
when our flames should burn high.

Why do we find love,
when time keeps us apart.
Why do we dream,
when our dreams are so far.

Why do we have wings,
when we can not fly.
Why do we hope,
why do we try.

Why is the question,
why is what we ask.
Why do we breath,
when life is our mask.
Answer 395 views

01 Jan 0001

Well, as a sometime published poet, I would call that acceptabl;e and expressive poetry. Of course we have never read the collected works of anon. And it communicates effectively, which is a lot more than much "good" poetry does.
42 ? maybe 4 by now, allowing for inflation
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