Poems About Life, Love, and Pain

A collection of poems on life, love, and pain. Vaguely character driven, but mostly generalizations of the fleeting thoughts that perhaps flit through everyone's brains at some point or another in their lives.

“Monotony Awaits”

Sometimes I feel

As though living my life

Is nothing more

Than never-ending attempts

To escape the ordinary.

“Vision”

The red light turned green,

But her car didn’t move.

She just sat and stared,

As she saw a world open up before her

On the screens of her corneas.

“Wanderlust”

I’m homesick,

For the entire world.

“Would You Rather”

And though they knew the future needed planning,

They found it nice

To forget

About the heavy woes of life,

And humor a bit of

Small talk

Which they lost themselves in

That evening.

“Imagination”

Think of what imaginations can do.

We can make sense

Of anything we want to believe.

That’s all imagination is -

Dangerously subjective;

Easily confused with fact.

“Sympathetic Weather”

The rain cried up her windshield,

As the tears cried down her face,

An equilibrium

Of the inevitable.

“Brain Imploding”

Thoughts burst in my brain,

Like fireworks -

Stunningly plain,

Momentarily solid,

But turning to vapor,

As soon as I realize them.

The words to calcify the thoughts,

Spill through the cracks of my grey matter,

Before I can grasp them.

Like water in a net,

Filled, and instantly emptied.

“Winter Coat”

She wore a warm floppy coat

That accompanied her all of winter.

It was a loyal coat.

It draped heavy on her small frame,

And felt like a paternal hug.

The thin inner layer of flannel

Was unexpectedly warm.

The outer covering of wool

Kept the cold from cutting in,

Ensuring she would never know goose bumps.

It had seen as much of the world as she had,

And it held onto the memories for her,

In case she ever forgot all the places she went.

It encased the smells of the wintertime:

Embedded with cold winter winds,

Peppermint sticks, campfire smoke,

Thickly wooded forests, and coffee shop steam.

It was a part of her and she a part of it,

And she vowed never to outgrow it.

“Graphic Novel-esque”

She was the kind of girl, who had a whole basket of nail polish,

But kept her nails forever the same shade of glossy scarlet.

She never used the jacket she kept tied around her waist.

The ends of all her T-shirts were rumpled,

From the habit of digging her fingernails into the hems.

She kept her clock three minutes fast so she could feel the thrill of beating time.

And when she drove through tunnels, she took deep breaths,

And felt she could truly see.