Life is absurd—full of irony, fleeting fortunes, and the unpredictable twists of fate.
Some days, it’s a cruel joke; other days, a comedy worth embracing.
These companion poems capture both sides of life’s great spectacle.
One drenched in cynicism, laughing bitterly at the harsh realities of survival in a world fueled by money, sensationalism, and expectation. The other rises toward reflection, acknowledging the past yet finding hope in the days ahead - Maybe.
Together, they tell the story of resigned wit and quiet resilience — of seeing life for what it is, and deciding how to walk forward, despite its jest.
Because, after all, what else can you do but laugh at fate?
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A Pessimistic Poem
I wished upon a winter’s star,
but fate just laughed—so here we are.
I tossed a coin into a well,
but luck stayed dry, so… oh well.
They say the world is full of wonder,
but wonder costs, so wallets thunder.
Movies peddle thrill and vice,
and someone's selling paradise.
The news, a circus, loud and bright—
a headline war with clickbait fights.
Life, they say, is meant for pleasure,
but wealth unlocks that treasured leisure.
I’d chase it, if I thought I might,
but riches dodge me out of spite.
Religion, they claim, brings peace and grace,
yet preachers dress in silks and lace.
If faith was truly free to all,
why do its palaces stand so tall?
Maybe I’ll wed, find a house, a wife, a cat.
She’ll drink, we’ll fight, then that’ll be that.
But if she’s rich, well… I’d stay,
love can work in a financial way.
And still, the world spins on—
chaotic, costly, absurd.
Yet tomorrow waits—whether we want it or not.
And tomorrow it will rain,
And I will probably run and trip and fall,
This is my life, after all.
Why me?!
An Optimistic Poem
Yet despite it all, life does not pause,
it stumbles forward, bends its laws.
It shakes its head, it tests, it tries,
but still, I walk where hope survives.
Life has made me older now—
older than I’d dreamed I’d be.
But age was never on my mind
when youth allowed me to feel free.
I never thought of bills or plans,
just wide blue skies and open hands.
But time marched on and left its mark—
a road ahead, once bright, now dark.
Yet still, I walk, my steps are light,
the sky remains, the stars are bright.
Long gone are those carefree days—
of joy, of love, of dancing in the rain.
Yet laughter lingers, quiet, soft,
as sun still breaks through clouds aloft.
Hope is patient, standing tall,
refusing fear’s unyielding call.
And though the past has left its trace,
the path ahead still holds its place.
So maybe, just maybe, I’ll start again—
tomorrow wakes, and I remain.
I might not have to ask, 'Why me?'—
but if I do, I’ll ask it differently.
Copyright June 1987 - Reworked 2025 M. W. Van Dyke
All Rights Reserved
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