modern poetry

Dispatch

Entangled in a battle of words,
Each straining to gain the
Upper hand, everything and
Nothing at stake, mercilessly
Thrusting, gouging, flailing,
Writhing to gain advantage,
Position, supremacy.

A clash with no winners,
One perishes, the other
Hobbles away to dispatch
Another day. Unthinking,
Uncaring, a feral organism
Protecting its young, twisted
Mouth, livid eye, interlude.

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

Affable Chap

He’s an affable chap,
Eager to share an amusing
Joke or anecdote.
He has many acquaintances
Ripe for invitation
To his lavish home
For lively parties,
And to admire the
Fruits of his labor.
He’s lauded as a successful
And generous member of
The community, always
Eager to help those
He sympathizes with.
Occasionally,
Usually by mistake,
Someone will scratch
Below the surface.

Clenched

Confronted with his own
Frailties, he crumbles in on
Himself, a reverberating
Collapse of ego.
Steeling himself, jaw
Clenched, eyes hardened,
He lunges forward in a
Gnashing display of
Ferocity, transparent,
Petrified by unrelenting,
Joyless memories.

The Usual

I remember when he invited
Me over to his house,
More like a mansion as
We pulled up to it in
His chauffeur-driven car.

He was one of the boys
I would watch lording over
Everyone else at school,
Tousled but neat at the
Same time, commanding.

He got out without thanking
The driver, walked past
The butler and motioned me
To his room in some far-off
Wing upstairs.

Walking around his domain,
The sheer excess,
A maid appeared and asked
If he needed anything,
“The usual,” he snorted.

Could

They chopped down the
Beautiful tree that
Graced their yard.
Not because it was sick,
Or encroaching on something,
But because they could.

You Next to Me

We walk down to the water,
Pails and shovels in hand,
Soft shuffling of expectant steps.
Kneeling in magical pools
Nestled in rocks lined with sand.
Warm breeze comforting,
Sun infusing us with contentment,
Gentle waves lapping.
You next to me, commenting on
The little creatures in their dainty
Homes, a secret world of
Shimmering, rippling light.
We talk about nothing in particular
And everything.

Escape

It begins to
Come into focus.

The incessant quest
For acceptance.

The need to be
Part of the in group.

The endless judgments
And expectations.

The need to
Cater to others.

The sacrifice
Of self.

The urge to
Escape from it.

Stop Me

Stop me
If you’ve
Heard
This one.
Begin story.
Stop.
I’ve heard it.
Hurt feelings.
Not as easy as
It seemed.

It’s There

How to be a kind person?
You already know how.
We all do.
Look deep inside and
You’ll find that part of you
That is free from
Fear, anger, sadness—
Your courageous self,
Without conditions or
Complications,
The version of you
That is love and peace.
You know it’s there,
Ready to embark on a
Journey of wonder.