Poems and Poetry

Welcome to Poems and Poetry

I’m poet Guy Farmer and I love exploring the human condition, from the sublime to the silly, through poetry. I created Poems and Poetry to feature original contemporary poetry about the human condition by thoughtful poets worldwide.

 


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Cheers,

Guy

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Providence 1945 | A Poem by Roy Pullam

A black cloud
Hung over my birth home
No doctor available
The skills of a neighbor woman
Spare but effective
Another mouth
Added to four
He had trouble feeding
A broken down miner
His back
In a corset
In the other bed
My birth cry
Matched by
The desperate longing
Of my mother
2:30 did not provide
The only darkness
Lack of hope
Draped like crepe
Over the little house
On Lexington Avenue
Dad turned his head
Recognizing
His youngest son
Whose promise
For a future
Seemed no more
Than the son
He buried
But poverty
Breeds survivor skills
Ambition only
For the day
While tomorrow
Come with its own challenges
And so it was
An incubator of want
Devoid of pleasure
But somewhere
In the despair
We all
Found our way

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Dopamine | A Poem by Gordie Dnably

Watery damson bulbs and moons,
Birthing hairy excuses or muses.
Forgoing every limit set by mourners.
Perpetuating reform.

Braised lilac orbs and moons,
Yielding excuses or apologies.
Siphoning reaction from laborers.
Boosting oases and stamina.

Devilish… bluish… ovallish… crystal,
Erecting poor lattices for unwary creepers.
Accepting devotion and denying its teeth.
Fostering opuses then gradually melting.
Hindering brawn and conning the lawless.
Providing faux satisfaction,
Stomping complacent outliers,
Sparring with fixed morals,
Propelling thankful users into vats of filtered sap during longed-for interims.
Spanning hours of frenzy and static and gray and fever,
Perpetuating rumors of misuse and blinding clients from its double-dealing.

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Truth Is Not Always in the Pudding | A Poem by Roy Pullam

Reputations are built
In blocks
Credits piled
In a delicate balance
Over a lifetime
How liars
Love to kick
Them over
Leaving a life’s work
Like scattered child toys
But it is not a plaything
The malicious intent
As senseless
As the bite
Of a mad dog
Striking out
At anything standing
And it being so hard
To reclaim honor
To build up
What was knocked down
For gossip is juicier
Than the taste
Of truth
And even the truth
Sometimes will not
Set you free

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Politics and the English Language | A Poem by Stan Morrison

A life dedicated to public service
is but an impenetrable surfeit
of respectability and fame
of access to public funds
endless supply of bribes
a war chest to re-elect
an elaborate system
of crime cover-ups,
“Some rob you with a six gun
others with a fountain pen.”

—–
The title is that of an essay by George Orwell. The last two lines are from Woody Guthrie.

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