#outcast poems on Hello Poetry

TB Dentz Jul 2018

Like a lion in the desert
Scrawny and rat-like but still fierce and intimidating
Thirsty but miles from water and used to it
Outcast but used to it
Dangerous and on the verge of death but used to it

#lion #desperation #danger #outcast #wild #fierce #ragged #thirsty #hungry #desert

E e r i e m a r y Jul 2018

O u t c a s t

No one's there when you needed a hand,

No one's there for you to listen and understand.

They loathed and turned away when they knew your sin,

No one's there with you when you feel like crashing In.

You saw a blade and grin,

Blood dripped off, You can't feel the pain.

Maybe that is end of your battle on fitting in,

Cause whatever you do, they will never let you in.

#outcast #fitin #battle #alone #lonely

Left Brained Poet Jul 2018

Ralph

When I was little, we had a tree.
He carried himself like a social outcast;
spindly protrusions with stubby green needles
trying to pass as branches.

They jutted out,
perpendicular to his wiry trunk;
strategically separated,
like feuding relatives at a wedding reception.

My father named him Ralph.
He was neither tall nor short.

At Christmas time,
he was adorned with colored lights
and bright glass globes.

His wannabe branches drooped
under the comically heavy baubles,
as if decorated by Charlie Brown himself.

In his youth, Ralph’s
modest redwood container
buckled under the force of his ambition.

“I want more,”
he whispered from his suburban cell.
“A land of my own,
where I can stand among giants.”

One day, it became too much.
As hot days stacked
like dry pancakes,
brittle brown cracked through his veins.

Ralph was no more.
But he lived on,
because my father gave him a name.

written May 23, 2017
revised July 8, 2018

#tree #christmas #childhood #outcast

forestfaith Jun 2018

i hate that

Please help the hurt, the broken, the shattered the sick.
Please don't leave them, ignore them and crush them to smithereens.
Even a weakly burning wick, I pray please don't quench it. There's still some life left in that weak frame of a body.
Please don't break even the weakest branch, they're fragile, please handle with care.

Even the "fortunate" ones, give something.
Do something.
Don't just sit down all day being sad for the people who are hurting.
Get up and do something.
They will continue to rot, to wither if someone doesn't come and give them a hug, a smile, to know that someone cares for them.
Loves them despite their weaknesses.
Who loves them despite being outcast of society.
i hate that.

"outcast" of society.

just my thoughts.
and a part of it was actually inspired by a Bible verse!
Isaiah 42:3
a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.

#i #hate #that #outcast #isaiah #isaiah423 #bible #yay

Nicole Jun 2018

Invisible

I am an outsider
Your friends
Your lovers
You're all connected
But not me

I am the unfamiliar
The unknown
The stranger in the crowd
No one sees me
But maybe you do

#love #poly #polyamory #left #out #outcast #confused #ok

hannah Feb 2018

Am I

Am I the ghost from the past that follows you around
Am I the nobody you are try to shake
Am I the outcast that you don't care about
Am I the loser nobody needs
Am I...

#nobody #ghost #past #outcast #loser

Akshat Agarwal Apr 2018

The Outcast

Lonely I stand in this grand hall,
where I am forced to expose my scars to all.
People walk by and mock my fall,
as if my feelings were a toddlers doll.
I wipe my tears in pain
to carry a soul that was slain,
by folks who made my efforts go in vain
and had all my acts, dumped away in a drain.
Dejected I kneel down to address
the evidence of my oozing out weakness,
to a hall that has the power to suppress
and turn the jury heartless.

I feel a fluttering hand on my skin
which brings upon my face a rare grin,
as I know the hand would go up-to my chin
and wait for it aspproaching twin.
Expecting the fingers to cuddle with my face,
I dream of a romantic scene on a terrace,
where the lover would warmly embrace
and freeze the ticking clock’s pace.
Such colourful feelings like mirages
drag my imagination out of the cages,
where it has only speculated for ages
that the glancing off hands were like blessings from sages.

At some point in life one becomes an outcast or a misfit to the society and so had I been several years ago. I wrote this poem to get the monkey off my back and move on.

#outcast #dream #lonely #broken #pain

amber Mar 2018

crack in the sidewalk

I am a flower blooming,
From a crack in the sidewalk.
You do not discover the beauty,
Until you suddenly glance,
Into that crack.
Your eye doesn’t fall upon it,
Too easily.

Why would anyone purposefully glance,
Into that small, dark imperfection,
In the sidewalk anyway?
They are much too busy,
Worrying about where they are planning to place each foot,
Next.
Left,
Right,
Left,
Right.

Besides, they would rather gaze ahead,
To the perfectly placed,
Well grown, nurtured flowers.

They glow in the sunlight,
And catch your eye when you pass;
The rays causing their gorgeous colors to dance, and radiate.
The breeze blows a cool wind to pull them closer together.
You see: happiness.

As I sit in the crack,
Waiting, wishing, wondering,
Sometimes I blossom,
Sometimes I wilt.

Once in awhile,
One or two people
May be kind, or perceptive, or understanding,
Enough to give me a chance: an opportunity.

They stare fixedly,
And instead of anger,
They see potential.
Rather than hurt,
They see love.

#flower #growing #up #outcast #hurt #loner