"quirkily" poems - Hello Poetry

**Out of place and rather uncertain Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning Bouncing about like a toy ball Uncomfortable with all my tics I've always felt so quirkily and small** *Lacking order and any sense of being, Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing, Broken and bruised from head to toe, My scars shining bright against the pale white snow, Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,* **Crooked toothed but grinning I always feel like I'm sinning Every time I'm early I feel late Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame I'm just a solo player stuck in this game** *Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint, Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames, Take my hand and join with me, For we can end the heartache that seems to be, Lets be awkward together, There's no one better*

0

Dec 21, 2014

Dec 21, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC

WickedHope

Lets Be Awkward Together (Collaboration with Andrew Quilles)

**Out of place and rather uncertain Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning Bouncing about like a toy ball Uncomfortable with all my tics I've always felt so quirkily and small** *Lacking order and any sense of being, Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing, Broken and bruised from head to toe, My scars shining bright against the pale white snow, Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,* **Crooked toothed but grinning I always feel like I'm sinning Every time I'm early I feel late Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame I'm just a solo player stuck in this game** *Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint, Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames, Take my hand and join with me, For we can end the heartache that seems to be, Lets be awkward together, There's no one better*

21

**Out of place and rather uncertain Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning Bouncing about like a toy ball Uncomfortable with all my tics I've always felt so quirkily and small** *Lacking order and any sense of being, Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing, Broken and bruised from head to toe, My scars shining bright against the pale white snow, Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,* **Crooked toothed but grinning I always feel like I'm sinning Every time I'm early I feel late Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame I'm just a solo player stuck in this game** *Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint, Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames, Take my hand and join with me, For we can end the heartache that seems to be, Lets be awkward together, There's no one better*

0

Dec 21, 2014

Dec 21, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC

andrew-moonlight

Lets Be Awkward Together (Collaboration with WickedHope)

**Out of place and rather uncertain Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning Bouncing about like a toy ball Uncomfortable with all my tics I've always felt so quirkily and small** *Lacking order and any sense of being, Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing, Broken and bruised from head to toe, My scars shining bright against the pale white snow, Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,* **Crooked toothed but grinning I always feel like I'm sinning Every time I'm early I feel late Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame I'm just a solo player stuck in this game** *Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint, Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames, Take my hand and join with me, For we can end the heartache that seems to be, Lets be awkward together, There's no one better*

21

she's quirkily odd and yet, mysteriously intriguing. you're the sun and the moon, the truth and the lie, the devil and the angel I can't despise. . . . foolish soul, how did I ended up falling for you? I'm a fool for not being able to move on quickly from you, instead, I fall deeper and faster. it's a trap. I need to escape.

0

Jul 10, 2016

Jul 10, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC

cx

she

she's quirkily odd and yet, mysteriously intriguing. you're the sun and the moon, the truth and the lie, the devil and the angel I can't despise. . . . foolish soul, how did I ended up falling for you? I'm a fool for not being able to move on quickly from you, instead, I fall deeper and faster. it's a trap. I need to escape.

12

A rhetorical question finds me asking (to no one in particular) why I recall the names of grade school teachers approximately fifty years ago (whose names listed below), when the need to retrieve necessary information due ring examinations (less time ago) often found me seized with sudden inability to remember any vital ants sirs (even including my name), thus grudgingly handing over blank test paper analogously surrendering a vital document gracing terms of defeat into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans first to sixth grade Precambrian relic (Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse, Missus Wells, Mister Stout, Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle). Invariably majority of first thru sixth grade accorded accredited ancient authenticated creatures. They freely exercised diabolical churlish ******** animalistic zeal us yakking, wickedly unprintable upon (unprincipled urchin) at receiving end of fiendishly grue some hellish instructions. Assign ments buttressed with ultimatums harkening back to Jurassic period earlier in dawning primate con sciousness. Lesson material kindled with justifiable license in league with garnered insignia. Heft to bring pupils to heal predicated via warp and weft woven wonder fully. Wrought writs welcomed whips with warranty whenever recalcitrant ruffian refused respecting reptilian rubric repre sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do), which loosely rendered regularly warbled wishy washy verse curmudgeons freedom granted to interpret as one decrepit, hawkish insignia certified one beaming Eve and/ or stud deed brute soffit. Education often relied on the weekly reader, and letters to and/or from Aunt Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin kickstarter jawboning torturous treatment tolerated, asper imps of the pervert, mutant Ninja Turtles duty bound antsy youthful yokel yodelers weathering ululating sing-song and quintessential precepts.

0

Feb 1, 2018

Feb 1, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Inexplicable memory quirkily unhinged

A rhetorical question finds me asking (to no one in particular) why I recall the names of grade school teachers approximately fifty years ago (whose names listed below), when the need to retrieve necessary information due ring examinations (less time ago) often found me seized with sudden inability to remember any vital ants sirs (even including my name), thus grudgingly handing over blank test paper analogously surrendering a vital document gracing terms of defeat into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans first to sixth grade Precambrian relic (Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse, Missus Wells, Mister Stout, Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle). Invariably majority of first thru sixth grade accorded accredited ancient authenticated creatures. They freely exercised diabolical churlish ******** animalistic zeal us yakking, wickedly unprintable upon (unprincipled urchin) at receiving end of fiendishly grue some hellish instructions. Assign ments buttressed with ultimatums harkening back to Jurassic period earlier in dawning primate con sciousness. Lesson material kindled with justifiable license in league with garnered insignia. Heft to bring pupils to heal predicated via warp and weft woven wonder fully. Wrought writs welcomed whips with warranty whenever recalcitrant ruffian refused respecting reptilian rubric repre sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do), which loosely rendered regularly warbled wishy washy verse curmudgeons freedom granted to interpret as one decrepit, hawkish insignia certified one beaming Eve and/ or stud deed brute soffit. Education often relied on the weekly reader, and letters to and/or from Aunt Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin kickstarter jawboning torturous treatment tolerated, asper imps of the pervert, mutant Ninja Turtles duty bound antsy youthful yokel yodelers weathering ululating sing-song and quintessential precepts.

60

A blank canvas A world of potential Crafty ingenuity But, alas There is no room So I follow my instincts Wave goodbye to gloom Much less understanding About impending doom The creases in your face Shows reality and truth Quirkily misconstrued With a front row view

0

Jan 14, 2019

Jan 14, 2019 at 7:26 AM UTC

jason-paul-klenetsky

Alas

A blank canvas A world of potential Crafty ingenuity But, alas There is no room So I follow my instincts Wave goodbye to gloom Much less understanding About impending doom The creases in your face Shows reality and truth Quirkily misconstrued With a front row view

13