Home > Creative Writing > Poetry
Created on: April 28, 2010
This life holds so many questions that we are faced to seek
What’s this life for? Like a band has dared to ask
Answering that one has been proven quite a task
Some say read the bible, Some look to science
I say you need to believe in something
That’s what makes you thrive
Otherwise how would it feel to be alive?
And, why do bad things happen to the good?
The Lord won’t put us through anything we cannot handle or face
And it builds up our character and strengthens our faith
Some questions I cant seem to answer but some seem to flow from my mind
What is love?
I have always perceived love as something blind
Not just something from the heart
But also a state of mind
Love can make you weak when you thought you were strong
Even if its right and even when its wrong
How can something with such great meaning make you seem so confused
But yet make you feel as if you were dreaming?
Love to me is something that you don’t see
But you know its there
Here there and everywhere
If you know its all around
Then why is it so hard to find?
Sometimes you look for love in all the wrong places
Through the eyes and all of the faces
Sometimes you shouldn’t look for love
Sometimes it just finds you even if you arent looking
At any time or in any place
Love could be starring at you right in front of your face
So many questions
But sometimes if you look within yourself
You realize that you have already answered them
But others are left to be answered in time
Learn more about this author, Kathleen Mcelveen.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:
Poetry: Philosophy
by James Craig
A passing thought
Hence that's why we're here someone once said
That little statement rattled around inside my head
why are
"Being as Poesis, Heidegger's Favourite Thesis"
Being is. No simple universal category
Its meaning lost in an ancient
sandcastle
small, proud
sandcastle besieged
"feather-ba nner, stand
tall to the
end!"
(such a small
thing, soon covered
by the sea)
if
NO ROCKIN' CHAIR FOR ME
I may be retired and on Medicare
But don’t point me to that rockin’ chair
My butt still
by Errol Ball
Pharaohs Love Song
Cigarettes rattle ribcage pack in pocket and I'm thinkin' death
is like a lack of color all over your
View All Articles on: Poetry: Philosophy