Short Free Verse Poems about the Human Condition

Some Reason

One supposes that it
Would be in everyone’s
Best interest to educate
All the members of a
Given society so that they
May all have access to
Some dignified level of
Personal and professional success
And build a stronger nation,
But there always seem
To be voices shouting about
How there’s no way we
Can give everyone equal
Opportunity. Using any
Number of rationalizations,
They try to convince themselves
And anyone who will sympathize,
That there is some reason
That they deserve to be on top
And others should suffer.

Get the Poetry Collection
Unconventional Being - Minimalist Poetry Book by Guy Farmer

Readers around the world have found pieces of themselves in these poems. Discover the collection.

Get Your Copy on Amazon

Gifts

How sad
To use one’s gifts
Expressly to hurt others
Instead of trying to
Build them up,
Encourage,
Love.

And It Is

He’s amassed wealth
Beyond his wildest dreams,
And it is from
This lofty perch
That he decides
To shaft as many
People as he
Possibly can.

She’s become more successful
Than she ever thought possible,
And it is from this
Vantage point that
She chooses to
Help those
Less fortunate
Than her.

Destiny

Brutally abused as a
Child, deprived of even
The most basic security,
She comes of age
Tempted to follow the
Same path, plenty of
People around more than eager to
Help her fulfill that prospect.

She looks inward,
Realizing that there still
Shines at her core a
Beautiful jewel drawing
Its resplendence from compassion
Rather than self-loathing,
Courage instead of fear,
Peace over anger.

It’s only in later years
That she begins to process and
Comprehend what happened
To her and how she took her
Pain and bid it goodbye,
Chose not to perpetuate the hurt,
Decided that her destiny
Was to spread love.

Stories

He informs everyone that
It was the other person’s
Fault, that he had nothing
To do with it, just an
Innocent bystander felled
By unprovoked malice, an
Exposed infant at the mercy
Of a ravenous creature.
It’s a tale that people believe,
Not by virtue of it having
Any merit, but rather because
They tell the same stories.

I’m Not a Racist

I’m not a racist but
I just don’t trust
Those people.

They lie.
They cheat.
They steal.

They’re
Not
Like me.

We have
Nothing
In common.

It’s always
Been
This way.

There’s just a
Natural order
To things.

I resent
Your
Insinuations.

This
Conversation
Is over.

We Arrive

We arrive at
The moment we
Knew would come but
Have desperately tried
To avoid,
Fidgeting nervously,
Trying not to look at one another,
The weight of everything
That came before
Urging us to forget.

Remain the Same

They look at him
In horror, disgust.

He doesn’t fit the mold,
Isn’t like them.

Discomfort caused by
Unfamiliarity.

Stultifying averageness,
Stay in the lines.

Lack of internal insight,
Loss of perspective.

Remain the same
At all costs.

Beheading
Extraordinary flowers.

Trinkets

He loses no sleep over
Being the one who haunts
Their slumber, visits at
The most inopportune times,
Interrupts otherwise happy
Moments, the one memory
That can’t be erased,
The action unforgotten,
Indelible, an unignorable
Placidity-staining mark.
He goes merrily along with
His life, leaving other
Such trinkets in his wake.