"awkwardness" poems
#*When all of worldly beauty's lost
When form and face have borne the cost
Of life's sojourn upon this earth
A greater glory then springs forth
When vanity is cast aside
With long-dashed dreams and fallen pride
At last a better hope I see
One anchored in eternity
When no one gives a second glance
Or offers promise of romance
I know the One whose love is true
Who looks beyond what most men do
When wit and charm have fled from thought
And company's no longer sought
There's still One friend who longs to hear
My every word, desire and fear
When awkwardness is more the rule
Than competence and being cool
His words I hear so gently spoken,
"Come, poor in spirit and all who are broken."
When those around me criticize
With disapproval in their eyes
He spreads His arms with full embrace
And wears acceptance on His face
When kindred spirit can't be found
And understanding's wayward bound
The One who knows me best will be
Thinking precious thoughts toward me
When foot is slipping, mind astray
From trying to fix things my own way
He rescues me with hourly grace
And sets me in a spacious place
When all my naught attempts at fame
Lie crushed beneath a weight of shame
I seek the fame of Him instead
Who calls my name and lifts my head
When youth and vigor fade away
And triumph seems an ancient day
My strength can rest in One who brings
Fresh power to soar on eagle's wings
When my last breath some day I take
Death's shadowed crossing, hence, to make
Upon Christ's nail-scarred feet I'll fall
To kiss that One who is my ALL*#
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
Your laugh was a cloud
Loud
Enveloping
Mist which covered me without the
slightest resistance
insistence
I needed assistance to breathe
Your laugh shows I'm useful
shows there's a need
For us
as I feed on the delicious awkwardness we
shared
Caught unawares by being liked
It's a shame your laugh
was the cloud which hid
a trucks headlights
crash
shared
spent
Your laugh a narcotic cloud I refuse to repent
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
Its all just words
No faces
No looks, no clothes, no smell
A simple connection
It could have been anybody
But it wasn’t
It started off as a hobby
Something to keep boredom at bay
By now you’re junior olympics... At least
It can be as flawless as beach glass
Or jagged
and farspread like the trees still dieing
I never know what to expect
Excitement
Misunderstanding
Seriousness
Interest
Laughter
Understanding
Awkwardness
Distracted
An idea
... Clearly I could continue
It’s like my little escape hole
A therapist that Actually understands and wants to
We just click
Alined by the sun
Some would say
But I dunno if that’s true
All I know is what I feel
Should I not feel what I feel?
Do I feel what I feel?
Is what I feel real?
Or is it fake
Is it a lie?
Or should I make it one
I don’t know what’s best
How can I
I’m new at this remember
All I know are the words of the known
Who are unknown to me in one world
And an empty chair in the next
I sit down and wait patiently
Until it’s finally my turn, here is where I’ll sit
There is no shame finding comfort in the little things the chair offers
Its smooth silky surface
The wine stain down the middle
the dots that resemble a smile in the corner
You don’t forget what you know so well
You open up your palm
A baby snake inside
He doesn't take it
He doesn't **** it on the spot
He doesn't grimace with disgust
He doesn't burst out in laughter
He picks it up
and cradles it in his hands
And sets it free
Back into the world where it belongs
And then he gives you a dalia
You take it and tuck it behind his ear as something to be admired
He blushes
He needs you too
Maybe
But its real
Almost too real
So you push it away
It’s impossible
It might not even be close to what you think it might be
Forget
And stay silent
Hey
We start again
A haha here
A smiley face too
Climbing up the uncertain mountain that has never been climbed before
The chance of falling high
But you like the chase
And for now
It’s enough
You don’t really care if you summit anyway
A possible “when”
always dangling
Inside the clouds
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 3:15 AM UTC
my shrink told me:
"Feelings:
Pathetic.
Baked clouds:
Attention!
A broken butterfly:
Holy fear"
abortion, gay marriage, suicide, depression, faith diversity, disunion, pacifism, the internet, green peace, the national institutes of guns, alcohol and cigarettes, math teachers, poorly written books and well-written books, science, documentaries, the 90′s Cartoon Network, solutions for first, second and third world problems, the Venus project, conspiracy theories, poker, chess and backgammon, ****** music, female ******* boys playing with dolls and offensive language are nothing
we are all attention ******
we are born and buried
for attention.
we endure awkwardness
for attention.
we have *******
for attention.
god will be afraid of us
for attention.
so I told him:
"Let's face it
nothing will be everything!"
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
#*When all of worldly beauty's lost
When form and face have borne the cost
Of life's sojourn upon this earth
A greater glory then springs forth
When vanity is cast aside
With long-dashed dreams and fallen pride
At last a better hope I see
One anchored in eternity
When no one gives a second glance
Or offers promise of romance
I know the One whose love is true
Who looks beyond what most men do
When wit and charm have fled from thought
And company's no longer sought
There's still One friend who longs to hear
My every word, desire and fear
When awkwardness is more the rule
Than competence and being cool
His words I hear so gently spoken,
"Come, poor in spirit and all who are broken."
When those around me criticize
With disapproval in their eyes
He spreads His arms with full embrace
And wears acceptance on His face
When kindred spirit can't be found
And understanding's wayward bound
The One who knows me best will be
Thinking precious thoughts toward me
When foot is slipping, mind astray
From trying to fix things my own way
He rescues me with hourly grace
And sets me in a spacious place
When all my naught attempts at fame
Lie crushed beneath a weight of shame
I seek the fame of Him instead
Who calls my name and lifts my head
When youth and vigor fade away
And triumph seems an ancient day
My strength can rest in One who brings
Fresh power to soar on eagle's wings
When my last breath some day I take
Death's shadowed crossing, hence, to make
Upon Christ's nail-scarred feet I'll fall
To kiss that One who is my ALL*#
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 12:44 PM UTC
She may not have been your prototype teen or hiree.
Or of the masses. Or herd.
However, she did walk into a McDonald's
approach the counter
emit an esoteric exchange for help with the cashier
and with knowing eyes
the cashier directed her to the starting gate.
Now
with application in hand
and blue ribbons in her eyes
she was off to the horse races,
nervousness riding on her shoulders.
In my eyes, she was a longshot to win,
where I could see her shoes falling off
before the race started.
And her imaginary jockey falling off her horse
from laughing so hard,
for she presented herself through the restaurant
and a job interview with a Starbucks frappe,
totally oblivious of her unwrapping.
It would be like turning up for a Yankee's job
in a Red Sox outfit.
Who would do this?
As the rubberneckers, I looked on.
Incredulous.
She took her seat at a vacant table
carrying her youth awkward.
Her looks of brown hair, eyes, and raw innocence
complimentary.
But those jeans, high risers, with holes in the knees
with a white Bebe shirt that hugged her shape
shouted trendy but not job interview.
Oh, my.
She continued the procession
extracting info from her phone
and filling out her application.
No doubt with votive candles at her side
and prayers on her lips.
And perhaps blue ribbons awaiting.
After all, this was her foot in the door.
It was at this time
I had an epiphany moment
tears welling in my eyes
as I slipped on hamburger choices
and sipped on past life on a teether,
totally oblivious, too.
It was like looking in the mirror.
Her youth and awkwardness and my growing decadence
towards the light.
When the manager came in and summoned her
to the interview table,
which was located in the dining room,
I saw a little kitten purr inside of her,
where her eyes nervously checked her surroundings.
At first introduction,
the reddening blush on her face and Adam's apple
stood pronounced
but her low voice was choked.
Almost inaudible.
As the manager put her calming hands
into hers
the light turned on
all foreboding escaping.
All misplaces and tense faces replaced with aces.
This was a defining moment for her,
as the golden arches braced her feet,
making all the rubberneckers, me, proud.
Logan Robertson
6/6/2018
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
Dear you,
I want you to come closer
Although I try to push you away
I am awkward
And the awkwardness only keeps growing
The more I have, the more you loose
But the more you have, the more I get
The equation is complicated
I don’t expect you to understand
After all
You never understood me either.
I am there
Beside you and behind you
All you have to do is turn
turn stealthily enough
So I don’t have time to run
I told you
I am awkward
And the awkwardness only grows
I slouch, I ******* I squeak
just like your bedroom door I creak
unopened for centuries
Unheard for decades
Unseen for years
Not because I’m weak but because
I am awkward
And the awkwardness only grows
i live in a pineapple under the sea
or you could say I hide
Hide from you, hide from me
Hide from the rest of the reality
but I am always there
I always will
For I have to be
Don’t acknowledge me
Validation is not my need
But don’t forget me either
For I have this hidden greed
Never leave your own side
I need to follow
Never leave my side either
But know
To me,
Ignorance is a bliss
For I am awkward
And the awkwardness only grows
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 1:43 AM UTC
You have long nails
I chew mine
Stunt their growth
With nervous teeth
Hungry teeth
I stunt mine
And lament their loss
We contrast
Black to colour
Stride to bounce
Distanced to cuddly
You avert questions,
Throwing random jest
I open up and bare my soul
Honest as I can figure
Under these beautiful cloaks
We sing in unison
Sorrow and deep caring
Somehow, we understand.
Our awkwardness is equal to none
That just heightens the intensity
I explore, feet, hands,
You let me, then clasp tight
The goth and the pixie.
Who would have thought?
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Today heard I a train,
while I smoke my cigarette, I heard a train.
The rumbles came trundling over mossing steel street bars,
the hooves of an iron horse shattering glass floors-
pebbles bickering like stone woodpeckers on the grounds to come.
The wind shudders,
and apologizes for the frost on the leaves,
the cracks in the ground and the holes in the sky,
my cigarette part blur,
awkwardness so comfortable,
this plastic train i recreate,
moments in-between,
where we lay down to day-listen.
The kinsmen that forgot call blacksmith,
scared with his welded skin,
protection in battle,
drunken dichotomy,
a hero ***** dans l’amour.
As great the fall of king, the fall of next in line.
The only thing to have moved quicker with age, time.
Lest we forget, the blacksmith here reside;(unfinished)
While the angel hath walk,
with long grey and black web moth wings,
stalking its sleeping prey,
his eyes wide open back,
watching the angel pace,
infesting the air with despicable knots,
its dangerous to stare,
but a contest never started is a contest never won,
and into the eyes of hell the blacksmith hast stared-
to the foot of his bed.
Where a three headed dog flap its ice wings to keep hell cold.
These nights in particular had been an awful one, and again the tapping, again the train.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 1:24 AM UTC
Look past my ruined skin.
Past the cracks in my lips.
Ignore the messy hair.
And the way a shade of purple grows under my eyes.
Love the sadness that invades me.
Learn to love my faults.
Do not let my awkwardness miss guide you.
For love is all I want.
Do not ignore me or show signs of disgust.
I am just a girl with a lonely heart.
I deserve better for I try and try.
No signs of a real smile will show on my face.
But I try to smile just to seem brave.
I am the one who falls asleep crying.
Wakes up with a sigh.
And goes through life thinking about dying.
I do not love myself.
And only one thing I ask from you.
Learn how to love me.
For I ache thinking about you.
But I know... Oh, how I know.
I do not love myself so neither can you.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
I thought we were so similar but now I see the difference
You want peace and friendship
While I want nothing
You constantly make attempts
To rebuild a scrap of friendship from the fragile bond I set a flame
To re kindle a candle but hide it from inferno
To delete the awkwardness and hit undo to before
But I don't care
And that's what scares me
I thought I almost loved you
But like that I'm ready to go
I want to move on
To hop in a car and drive away from the dust that's choking me
Despite our bond the fire is done and I don't need to clean the ashes because the bond was severed and the scraps of love burned too.
I thought we could be sisters
The others called you that
To me you were still a friend
But perhaps you were more than that
But with your double edged sword you stabbed our strings
And cut out our hearts
The others will still talk to you
Worry and cry
Still save you from danger
Because you are thise sister
But to me you are gone
An empty shell
And any love I felt dissipated into the air
To see you killed and walk away
Would no longer phase me
All I think of you is hate
No r eminence of emotion
I thought you were a friend
We were never sisters
But you were always there for me
Someone to talk to about the light things
I couldnt discuss the pain but at least your voice could lift my hidden sorrow
But then I was ripped away
Pulled from you and my sisters
But somehow I forgot
To miss you too much
I lived my life
Forgot to call
Simply acted as though
You didn't exist at all
What ever love I felt for you
I learned to live without
And simply forgot
About the emotion I used to feel
When our times were more real.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
The local mall now has a Spenser’s Gifts;
I remember that place fondly as Al and I
make our way.
It’s where I sneaked a peek at Samantha Fox’s ****
for the first time,
saw my first **** ring,
wondering why anyone would want one.
I bought my first Metallica shirt at a Spencer’s;
spending twenty of my dad’s dollars.
Spencer’s and Record Wear House
were sanctuaries;
my escape from what my classmates
took for normal.
I took my son into that store
so that he could see the X-Men hats
and Deadpool shirts, the banana and pickle
pens caught his eye,
but I had to point out one more.
“What’s that one?” I asked.
Alex made a face, but in the end
he did what any 14 year old boy should,
he chuckled.
I took him in that store so that we both
could escape.
Earlier he walked the mall
a good fifteen feet ahead of us.
We stopped for ice cream.
He chose a soda and wouldn’t sit with us.
It took a second, but
I figured him out.
He was trying his teenaged self out;
testing his wings.
As we walked, he’d wave at classmates
and be either sturdily ignored or given a cursory nod.
It was obvious that he wanted so much more.
It pained us, my wife and I.
So, I took him into Spencer’s gifts
in an effort to remove some of his innocence and awkwardness.
It may not have been the wisest move,
but at least, for a moment,
both of us felt peace.
-JB CLaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2014
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Desires feeding our souls
Gnawing and eating our flesh, until we're a vulnerable flush red
Our pores exude the confident strife
A conflict that should have never arrived
To resurface our skin, bring back the childhood mind
I still see the eight-year-old awkwardness,
holding a staple makeshift poetry book and pen
The young struggling mind, when dying was simple to find
Daily I walk into the aroma of the sunlight
Intricately snipping roses off their vines, soaking in their beauty as my fingers sting and bleed
A decade incomplete
She never stopped being a victim long enough to realize her heart was revitalized, made into an equal whole
A rose petals thirst satisfied
No insignificant being
She was now a family
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
I cant tell you how much the hush hush hurts,
the gaps,
[the deliberately left blanks]
the silences that make me scared of saying words out loud.
It's the switching of meanings that does it,
all the tip toe awkwardness
the swift, unconscious side steps.
It's the whole long stretch of silence,
the whole deliberate
accidental
hush hush of something I never even knew the name of.
It's the casual,
forgettable
drops of slights
that I'm still turning
over and over.
It's a hush hush never intended to be malicious but
the quiet twists and tears
and so I can never tell you how much the hush hush hurts
because the silence keeps me hush hushed too.
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 4:12 AM UTC
I’ve ordered and carried my steaming cup of brown to my table to ignore the falling snow beyond the walls of this box.
My clothes are wrong, my hair as well.
I just cut it, and everyone knows which mistakes I made.
A man sneezes and the song changes.
Better not make eye contact with anyone; I am not in their league, here at the muddy spoon cafe.
Chewing so loudly in the de-creeping silence,
these safe, polite, quiet ones.
I am the creep here. I am different.
My thighs are tense.
Hunching over the paper, arms tense and clutching a gnarled red pen--
It’s probably self-indulgent to even sign my name.
Someone’s shuffling cards.
I almost forgot.
The awkwardness I’m filled with breathes out a short sigh when I realize
--my part’s over.
“Do you know Sanskrit? Do you know what that is?”
A woman asks another.
I want to choke on the pretension
The tenseness, I adjust my leg to relieve pressure on my ankle.
Why can’t I just enjoy the snow? That’s all I really came here for-- well, and the coffee.
I hear a woman cough with an unaffected tenor, which would convey her gender to an interested party but to me carries no intonation.
I wonder if the girl I recognize from class thinks I’m following her.
I came here for coffee, sweetheart!
Is it yet too hot for me to dare a drink?
I can see it, the steam, rising out of the corner of my eye.
I haven’t looked away from my hand in twenty minutes.
“Who am I?” they may be asking myself for me.
I don’t have a clue.
They can think about that problem
for themselves
while they’re lonely
in their forties.
I’m lonely now and I hope not to live
that long.
Here, we pretend not to see each other’s faces
in the gleaming presence of steaming cups.
“I don’t want to wonder about that.”
I realize there’s nothing I even deem worth writing down.
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
It seems as we get older, a piece of us gets lost.
Desires fill our hearts, it seems those pieces are the cost.
What must we do to find them, or fill that broken void.
Do we ever get them back, or are they just destroyed.
As age creeps up, and time ticks by, and awkwardness begins,
It's hope I find a heart like mine, who's pieces just fit in.
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
The way you breathe,
Play with your hair,
The face you make when
You're deep in thought,
Those pretty eyes,
Your puffy lips,
That awkwardness
Mixed with your
Easy-going nature,
That deep voice,
Your soft laugh,
Those rough hands,
Every tiny freckle,
Your big dreams
And humble outlook,
Your nerdy side
Torn between
Your free spirit,
You are the better half.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
Sometimes, when I walk alone
My mind drudges up past mistakes
Past embarrassment, past awkwardness.
It replays them all in a reel
So as I try to escape one
Another rushes in to take its place.
And I start blushing uncomfortably
Even though I’m alone.
I remember them all,
My feet move faster
Like they’re trying to escape
All these barbed memories.
I want to erase them all,
Like that Spongebob episode
Where the drawing comes to life,
And Spongebob has to erase it
With a giant, high quality,
plastic-looking eraser.
If I took all these past awkward moments,
And embarrassments, and mistakes,
And wrote them down
On crisp, 11-by-8.5 college rule,
And watched them come back to life,
Could I erase them?
Forever?
Could I erase them,
With my giant
high quality,
plastic-looking eraser?
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 10:58 AM UTC
I am convinced
that I'm a tourist on this planet,
in this body.
Things like knowing where my legs are,
or existing in the company of a spider,
shouldn't be such causes for
bewilderment and hysteria,
but they are.
And this is besides my awkwardness
with other human beings.
I attribute this to their being tourists too.
Why else would they take lots of pictures
and leave garbage everywhere?
It's like our bus broke down,
and we're surviving in ramshackle forts,
looking out with binoculars
and waving flags made of Hawaiian shirts.
It must be appalling,
and not a little shocking,
to the natives.
Quiet and peaceful, the plants and animals
watch us from a distance,
at once unnerved and giggling
just a little bit,
as they watch us stumble about
and run shrieking from the spiders.
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
He carries her purse on his arm
without awkwardness;
His comfort shows he must have been caretaker,
for some time.
Yet awkward she does feel.
He carries her purse on his arm
as if it belonged there.
Just another parcel to be handled
with care; yet not a care
to what this stranger thought.
This old woman hobbles
ambling behind;
a footfall - thrusts her forward,
one more step.
Doesn’t he understand she wants to go forward -
no more? One step closer
to the grave,
she can sense.
The cane catching
and holding her steady;
The pain, catching
and holding her firm.
She follows his lead; always hitting the mark
with her blue veined hand
wrapped around that staff
in her grasp.
Her gait, unsteady,
wobbly at best
As he carries her purse on his arm,
She follows his lead
one step at a time
A crooked cane
her only assist for the
ambulatory impairment she bears;
as he carries her purse
on his arm.
© 2010 Marlene Dunham
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
High school was a breeze
I mean forget the braces years
and the glasses and the acne and the bone crushing awkwardness
it was a breeze
rolling around in Mark's beat up VW hippie van
Smoke trailing behind us as we tore through suburban Richmond
worrying about Mom 'n Pop's more than the DEA and Cops
and finding empty houses to drink what we thought was good alcohol
if no houses were available
we'd just wait for the parentals to fall asleep
singing pop punk at the top of every lung
rapping along to gangster rap
hopelessly Caucasian
class was a joke
homework a no go
and we'd worry about the consequences later
talking about how we couldn't wait to be grown
well I'm growing now
and I can tell you
no bed time is awesome
but it isn't all it's always cracked up to be
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
Words should express sincerely
It shouldn't be spoken rudely or weirdly
Or it might be misunderstood by someone else.
In the situation that merely just go
Where all the tense and massive form of air
Inhaling and exhaling deep inside
It's ironic life could feel
Looking for a word that could fit in
Bringing some thing that could break
"The awkwardness"
Why is it so hard to start a conversation?
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
I fell in love with you in fractions,
At first it was simply with your shy awkwardness,
The way our silences were never filled,
And that was absolutely ok.
And then it was with your face,
The stubble on your chin,
The way your eyes crinkle slightly at the corners,
And how you look me in the eye when we talk.
That was followed by the way you held me,
Our bare chests pressed against each other,
Your hands softly caressing my back,
And how you would whisper the sweetest things,
Into my left ear.
And finally I fell in love with the way you didn't love me,
And I was so painfully filled with love for you,
That every fiber of my being begs for you to feel it,
Too.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC