The scientist is not a person who gives the right answers, he's one who asks the right questions.
quote by Claude Levi-Strauss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The scientist is not a person who gives the right answers, he is one who asks the right questions.
quote by Claude Levi-Strauss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Now?
now the questions are asking you
what now? quo vadis?
where to? what for?
why?
yes, why above all.
the questions are asking you
and you must answer with the very same questions to the questions
you beg, and they beg too
the answer to the questions
but you have no answers really
you have learned the art of wisdom
its own ways
its own manners of not answering with answers
who knows? no one knows?
oh, ahh, i must start from where wisdow
was born
here i am and i know nothing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He who asks questions, cannot avoid the answers
He who asks questions cannot avoid the answers.
He, who asks questions, cannot avoid the answers.
He who asks questions, cannot avoid the answers.
Instead Of Being A Pessimist
You want answers to your questions?
Ask yourself this...
What began the origin of those questions.
And...
How did they begin for you to exist.
You want a life you like?
Oppose to the one you don't?
Why have you chosen to dislike what you do?
And who enforced this dislike upon you.
Do you live with wishes to fulfill your dreams?
Or are you focused on others,
Who seem to have 'your' things.
Are you focused upon others,
Who seem to be living your life?
Doing those things,
You wish for you also to like?
Perhaps those questions you ask,
Are not yours afterall.
And perhaps those answers,
That have come to you answered...
You ignored them to disbelieve,
Those answers received...
Were not yours.
Because you spend your time,
In the minding of other people's business!
And your business,
You haven't given your time to see...
Succeed.
But your time is spent,
Lamenting others you despise and criticize.
You want answers to your questions?
Wait for therm patiently to come.
Before you impatiently decide,
To get up and leave.
Believing they can be found,
With you not around.
You want answers to your questions?
Ask yourself this...
What began the origin of those questions.
And...
How did they begin for you to exist?
Ask yourself that.
Instead of being a pessimist!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untitled 6
now the questions are asking you
what now? quo vadis?
where to? what for?
why?
yes, why above all.
the questions are asking you
and you must answer with the very same questions to the questions
you beg, and they beg too
the answer to the questions
but you have no answers really
you have learned the art of wisdom
its own ways
its own manners of not answering with answers
who knows? no one knows?
oh, ahh, i must start from where wisdom
was born
here i am and i know nothing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rachael Asks Good Questions
Rachael is four...
Rachael asks good questions...
What is God?
Why do we have to pray to God?
Is there any human being on earth
who does not ask these questions
eventually at some time during their life?
Some individuals
reflecting upon world events
reflecting upon world history
will be forced to ask
these questions
multiple times
throughout their lives...
And the answers are...
there are as many answers
as there are differing cultures
ethnicities religions biases...
Rachael is going to
a birthday party today
but Rachael is afraid of clowns...
Rachael asked her mother
did you ring your friend
to ask what the clown
will be wearing at the party?
Rachael said I am not afraid of the clown
any more I prayed to God...
an example of remarkable faith in a child...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A great scientist
He was full of questions.
For others, he provided answers
that stunned their knowledge and their world;
for him, his answers were but springboards
for his further questions.
He was the humblest of agnostics,
the humblest too, of atheists:
in the absence of sure faith in answers,
he lived with faith in questions;
and lived in wonder – full of wonder at the laws
that unfolded to his curiosity;
an eternity of questions;
an eternity of wonder at the world;
and perhaps, the God he did not believe in,
smiled, and loved him as a true believer;
sharing the goodness, truth and beauty of the universe
as angels may; believing in the love of law,
as the God of questions and creation must.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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435
The Police Officer Arrested Them
Last Night While They Were Strolling On The Park
And This Is The Story:
He Asks For Their Names And They Say They Have None
He Asks From Where They Come From And They Say
They Do Not Really Know
He Asks Them Where They Are Going And They Tell Him
They Are Still Undecided
He Asks Them What Is In Their Bags And They Say They Are Just Nothing
He Asks Them Some More And They Say
They Have Nothing To Say Of Themselves
They Come From Nowhere
And They Are Heading Nowhere
And The Police Handcuffed Them
These Vagrants
These Potential Terrorists Of This Rural Place
Where The People Still Love Peace
And This Afternoon The Police Officer Brings Them All To Me
And He Tells Me About The Whole Story
About His Questions And Their Answers
And I Am Looking At Them And They Look At Me
Straight In My Eyes
With Dignity And Without Shame
With All Pride
That They Are Telling The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth
That This One Whose Age Is 16 And This Other One Whose Age Is 18
Are Simply Talking About
Themselves And About Us
And About The Policeman Himself
And Surely, I Agree
We Have No Names, We Do Not Know Where We Come From And We Do Not
Really Know Where We Are Going
We Are All Like That, In The Strictest Sense Of The Word, Except
For Our Little Pretensions
And So I Ordered The Policeman To Release Them All
And Let Them Be Themselves
And Let Them Go In Peace And Finish Their Journey With All Ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Is 16 And The Other 18
the police officer arrested them
last night while they were strolling on the park
and this is the story:
he asks for their names and they say they have none
he asks from where they come from and they say
they do not really know
he asks them where they are going and they tell him
they are still undecided
he asks them what is in their bags and they say they are just nothing
he asks them some more and they say
they have nothing to say of themselves
they come from nowhere
and they are heading nowhere
and the police handcuffed them
these vagrants
these potential terrorists of this rural place
where the people still love peace
and this afternoon the police officer brings them all to me
and he tells me about the whole story
about his questions and their answers
and i am looking at them and they look at me
straight in my eyes
with dignity and without shame
with all pride
that they are telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
that this one whose age is 16 and this other one whose age is 18
are simply talking about
themselves
and about us
and about the policeman himself
and surely, i agree
we have no names, we do not know where we come from and we do not
really know where we are going
we are all like that, in the strictest sense of the word, except
for our little pretensions
and so i ordered the policeman to release them all
and let them be
themselves
and let them go in peace and finish their journey with all ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evasive
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who know?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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evasive (EDITED FOR one letter only)
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who knows?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Somewhere Down The Road
(Wayne Kirkpatrick/Amy Grant)
So much pain and no good reason why
You cried until the tears run dry
Nothing else can make you understand
The one thing that you held so dear
Is slipping from your hand
And you say
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
And why, why, why
And all I can say is
Somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will have the answers
At the end of the road
Yesterday I thought I'd seen it all
I thought I'd climbed the highest wall
But now I see that learning never ends
And all I know to do is keep on walking
'Round the bend
Singing
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
Why, why, why
And all I can say is
Somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will hold the answers
At the end of the road
Somewhere, somewhere down
And somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
They will have the answers
At the end of the road
They will have the answers
At the end of the road
Somewhere down the road, yeah
Somewhere, somewhere
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere down the road
Why, why, why
There will be arms reaching, down the road
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere
Oooh
song performed by by Faith Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are Images Created For?
The answers to questions,
Are there.
The answers have always been there.
Impatiently glaring.
But what has been absent...
Is a quitting to dispense,
The distribution of pretentions...
Of those defining who is qualified,
With credentials certified...
That impresses with appearances,
Images relied upon...
That those knowledgeable oppose.
And refuse to masquerade to disguise.
The answers to questions,
Are there.
The answers have always been there.
Impatiently glaring.
But those who stare...
Seek something there that impresses.
And if it is not an image dressed,
To impress expectations...
The answers that are there,
Will continually to be ignored.
What are images created for?
If there are not there to enhance pretentions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Little Devotional
Well I'm blowing smoke out of your window
And you're slipping back into your dress
You know you were always such a lady
I've always been impressed
But gentlemen
They don't ask questions
Just keep quiet
She'll pay attention
Gentlemen don't ask questions
We could pay attention
I said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers."
Said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers."
Well I pictured you in blue
But I have to say I'm more partial to the red
Deep, dark, and devastating
Leaving no question as to where you've been
I calm the crowd by keeping quiet
Move like a shadow up to your matress
Gentlemen don't ask questions
We could pay attention
Do you think he'd be better ('Cause we're down for competition)
Doing what I do best?
Do you think he'd be better (This could all be on purpose)
Doing what I do best?
I said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers."
Said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers."
Do you think he'd be better
Doing what I do best?
Do you think he'd be better
Doing what I do best?
Do you think he'd be better ('Cause we're down for competition)
Doing what I do best?
Do you think he'd be better (This could all be on purpose)
Doing what I do best?
I said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers."
Said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers."
Said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers."
Said, "I'm gonna have myself in shambles
Before your folks are up and looking for some answers.
song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Questions Than Answers
There are wars around us daily and the world sleeps,
But read your Bible always to know the facts about all these prophesies!
For there are more questions than answers on this earth,
And like a red mark on the foreheads of mankind.
Of hope in life,
Of power in the name of war,
Of love to the people we care for,
Of faith on the journey on this earth,
And of a sound mind in the land of roses;
But there are more questions than answers on this earth.
Beside the service of two,
Elias came as a surprise to us! !
And like the prophecy that is known to you;
But there are more questions than answers on this earth.
Captured by various lusts,
But we brought nothing to the world and we will take away nothing out of it!
And like our tears after the bombs,
But there are more questions on this earth than answers.
Bombs everywhere! !
And like the corpses after the wars;
But in youthful lusts with green-uniforms like the flesh and blood as seen in Ivory Coast and in Libya!
And the world sleeps because of its many problems.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Questions?
i am tired of questions
all of them
too familiar and all
with ready
homemade answers
canned questions
and answers
in one book
scanned for years
and you all know them
canned laughter
canned faces
canned souls
canned and caned and chained
bones
they rattle and they shake
and roll
i have no answers.
i am throwing all these questions away.
i live everyday. i look at the trees
and the forests.
i simply live. Now.
i have no more questions.
neither will i demand
any answer from you.
go, go, find yourself.
i stay here wanting to find nothing at all.
i guess, after my 48 years
there is this truth
that i find: there is nothing
nothing to find
nothing to expect
nowhere to go
it is just this and this and this.
the one that i have in my hand
the one that i keep on holding
i enclose it and keep it warm
and alive
and you do not even care
this is it: me, myself, and I
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Are you growing?
If you ask questions that have answers
It means you are growing.
If you ask questions that have no answers,
It means you have grown up.
If you ask no questions of either
It means you are stagnant.
28.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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