short deep poems

Enclave

A ponderously large vehicle
With darkened windows
Is ushered through
Heavy metal gates by
A dutiful sentry hired
To protect this particular
Walled enclave of wealth
Anchored in a sea of misfortune.
Pulling up to the outlandishly
Large mansion bursting with
All the amenities, the family
Gets out, walks past the guard
Posted outside, and disappears
Behind an ornate, heavy door
Built to keep the dregs out.

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Nobody Talks about It

Quaint cottage on
A towering cliff,
Small garden,
A single tree,
Having coffee together
Looking out the window.
She leaves and is
Never seen again.
Nobody talks about it
But they’re pretty
Sure what happened.

I Don’t Know

I take a chance to
Speak my mind and I’m
Instantly uneasy,
Such is the nature of
Consciousness, a moment of
Certainty followed by
Inevitable questioning.
What the answers might be,
I don’t know, though
Others assert they do;
I don’t believe them,
It’s always the ones who
Say they know everything
Who really have no clue.

Speak Up

One person
Dares to
Speak up.

Another takes
Notice and
Joins in.

A movement
Coalesces and
Gains momentum.

A union of
Voices spreading
A message of hope.

They move
Forward with
Purpose and determination.

Their actions
Change
The world.

Pleasantries

Each day he visits
The same store,
Hoping she’ll be there
So they might share
Some small talk about
The weather or what’s
Going on around town.
It’s been like this
For almost a year,
Smiles and pleasantries
Exchanged briefly.

It Might Have Been

Sitting on a bench
In a garden,
Looking out over
A placid pond,
He wonders whether
It might have
Been different,
Memory embellishing
What never was.

Trickle

A familiar refrain
Repeated decisively,
Peddled as truth:
Cut taxes on the rich,
The wealth will
Trickle down.

Years and years of
Following this fable
Yield nothing but the
Accumulation of vast
Fortunes by a few,
Famine for the rest.

The middle class shrinking,
The poor forgotten,
The affluent getting fatter,
Everyone else struggling
To run in place,
At the top, celebrating.

Today Is the Day

He’s spent most
Of his life wishing
For a time when
Everything would be
Different, a reprieve
From mundanity, failure,
A mostly tepid existence
Tinged in grey.
Today is the day it all
Changes, unless he has
Anything to say about it.

Reading Poetry

Reading poetry
In a placid garden,
A bird stops by
To take a drink,
A squirrel visits
For a while,
The sun warms
Us all.