The poem talks about financial issues, a problem that many people are forced to deal with in their day to day lives. Money in this poem is likened to a stranger who is characterized with the nature of travelling from one place to another. Money being so sweet has done good as well as bad to us and to the people around us. Regardless of the value of money, it does not prevent anyone to use it when it comes to them.

Woman holding bags of money
By Watchara Ritjan/ Shutterstock

A stranger, that is what you are
You come today and leave tomorrow
You don’t care even if you are needful
Departing is always your maxim
Have you considered your status?
Everyone craves to have you.
Even in scuffles and fair-play
They need you like never before

Your blueprint is untraceable
No trace of you is found at your departure
Even when the previous week was selective
The coming week exude thoughts constantly
One thing about you that mystifies me is this
You don’t respect age or look for caliber
Even when chances say yes
You say no and walk away
I wish to exterminate this stranger
You have tortured my thirst for life
And have turned my dream into a room
Clean today and murky tomorrow

When shall my compound be dirty?
The whole neighborhood waits for you.
The refuse bin is tired of holiday
They rust like Ulysses’ return to Ithaca

You are just a perfect stranger
Your value is oecumenical
But you tend to be difficult to keep
Because you always want to travel
You have visited millions of homes
In winters, spring, and even autumn
Yet no trace of you is left behind
It looks like you have not visited at all
But I will earnestly wait for you
Because I know you have delight in hard-work
You gag but not with dedicated souls
That’s the little assurance that keeps whispering into my ears

A stranger, that’s what you are
How many lives have you shattered?
Even those that deserve your presence
Your choosy nature has nicknamed you as a visitor
Do you really think you’re a master?
You are not because of your interim value
They choose to use you somehow
Even when they don’t get you anyhow

You are a rib-tickle to me
I kept on laughing because of your modus vivendi
You are age-less yet sensitive
A mint of you can blow off the mind
Choose you this day, to stay or go
They are tired of your movement

Go now
Or forever stay with us.

Poetry: O Thou Modus Vivendi 1
By Watchara Ritjan/ Shutterstock

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