short poems about life

Modus Vivendi

Fumbling around randomly
Trying to figure out
Who they are, where they
Belong, what they mean in
Relation to the greater
Scheme of things, but mostly
What can they do to receive
The greatest amount of pleasure
As quickly as possible with
The least amount of effort and
Without any regard for anyone
Else but themselves on this
Or any other day which could
Be used to gain greater personal
Insight but is expended instead
On the pursuit of the petty,
The saddest story being when
This particular modus vivendi
Is never transcended.

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Capable

She remembers
The faces telling
Her who she is
And what she should do,
Messages interpreted
As truth rather
Than opinion.

Not sure she
Can do it,
She nevertheless
Gives it a try
And finds out that
She was capable of it
The whole time.

The Square

Throughout the square,
People walk quickly
And slowly, with
Purpose and randomly,
Going to wherever it is
They have to go or
No destination at all.
A woman looks at her watch,
A child runs after a ball,
Two men chat animatedly,
Pigeons take flight,
A statue quietly looks on.

The Things That Will Be

Dreams unrealized
Yet still
Vibrant.

Experiences anticipated,
Moments of elation,
Excitement.

Respite from the
Monotony,
Welcome movement.

Talking about
All the things
That will be.

Future triumphs
Engendered deliberately,
Hopefully.

Benefit

The difference between
Doing something because
You have to or
Because you want to.

Giving to benefit
The greater good or
Solely for appearances,
Altruism or self-interest.

Travel

If you had told me
That that one event
Would change my life
So irreparably, I
Would have laughed at
Such an outlandish
Notion, as I’m sure
I did about so many
Other things of
Lasting consequence.
If only there were
A way to travel back
And implore myself to
Consider other options
Instead of picking up
The pieces for the
Rest of my days.

That Way

I never realized I
Was that way until
It happened, life being
What it is, introducing
Its sundry twists and turns,
But I became aware of
Who I used to be, as well as
Who I am today, a person
I used to tacitly loathe
Or one I can look at in
The mirror without wincing.

Lighter Place

He writes about the dark
Because he remembers
What it was like to be there,
Staggering around without direction,
Lost in recognizable surroundings,
Unable to reach out to ask
Someone to help alleviate his pain,
Not realizing solace exists,
A disoriented creature walking aimlessly
Down an unfamiliar street,
Looking for something, anything,
A long, convoluted journey toward
Some other, lighter place.

I’m Sorry

I’m sorry for
What I did,
I didn’t know
What else to do.

If I had a chance
To relive the moment,
I would behave
Differently.

I wish time
Would allow me to
Go back and
Change things.

If only you
Could see me now,
On my
New path.