Minimalist Free Verse Poems about the Human Condition

She Attended a Workshop - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

She Attended a Workshop

She attended a workshop required by
Her employer and found that it
Directly contradicted everything
She experienced at work each day.
How to reconcile incompatible philosophies,
Battling worldviews, half-hearted
Gestures to improve nothing.
Sit at your desk, do your work,
An ego will be by presently to
Overwhelm your spirit.

Wonderful Realm - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

Wonderful Realm

They toil to change
The school curriculum
To reflect a self-righteous
Thirteenth-century view
Of the world.

A wonderful realm where
Education succumbs to
Superstition, where
Strict hierarchy imposes
Its arbitrary whims.

A king on top,
Everyone else in tatters,
Barely subsisting,
Summarily subjugated by
Master manipulators.

Overestimating - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

Overestimating

The one thing they
All knew about him
Was that he had an
Answer for everything,
Greatly overestimating
His actual knowledge,
Which consistently led
Him to not get along
With almost everyone,
Himself included.

Askance - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

Askance

He feels so small that
Everything he does is to
Become bigger
Than anyone else, so no one
Can get to him the way
They did.
Suppressing yet another
Burst of emotion, he transforms
Sadness into blinding rage against
The tormentors who
Look at him askance or
Make him feel
Less than huge.
The accoutrements of weakness
Surround him,
He relishes the fleeting rush of
Confidence.

When He Wants - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

When He Wants

All he’s ever done
Is impose his will
On others,
Trample on their peace
And well-being,
Infringe upon their
Comfort,
Do whatever he wants,
When he wants to.

Bank - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

Bank

He doesn’t care
Very much about the
Obscene piles of
Cash the bankers
Made off with,
Leaving behind the
Worst financial cataclysm
Since The Great Depression.

He prefers to focus
His self-righteous ire
On the hapless bystanders
Pitilessly ruined by
The conscious malfeasance
Of financial criminals,
Now forced to queue up
At the food bank.

A Knot - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

A Knot

You didn’t have to leave me like that,
Holding my disbelief, a goldfish in a
Plastic bag, swimming aimlessly without
Anywhere to go, hope of escape,
Knowledge of anything else.

I’d grown accustomed to our dance,
The one where you lift me and
Let me down and throw me up in the air
Only to watch me fall, a knot of bruised
Feelings, unresolved questions.

Someone Who Understands - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

Someone Who Understands

It’s really not
That complicated,
Though so many people
Have such a hard time
Figuring it out;
Just live your life
Without stepping on others,
Be kind, giving,
Enjoy your time on
This earth by being
Someone who understands
We’re all in this together.

Whispers - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

Whispers

He’s worked long hours
For many, many years,
Serving demanding patrons who
Often barely notice he’s there.

Every two weeks he checks
His bank account to make sure
His money has been deposited,
The future at stake.

Today his daughter found out
That she has a scholarship
To the local university’s
Medical program.

A couple of tables down,
A woman leans over to
Her husband and whispers
About the foreigner.

I Can't Convince You - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

I Can’t Convince You

I can’t convince you to be happy, to
Let go of the pain, to treat people well,
Like yourself, heal the hurts,
Overcome the fear.

I can’t implore you to dismiss many
Years of habit. Wavering foundation
Settling for crumbs, ease elusive,
A rippleless lake startled.

I can’t sway your mind to follow a
Sunny path lined with wildflowers,
Brimming with hope, the last cold
Gusts of winter warmed.

Poetry by Guy Farmer