"quirkiness" poems
Sat on a sedan
Spiderman took her hand.
Went down on one knee
And said
Will you marry me?
I cannot face
The rest of eternity
With each generation's
Take on modernity.
It's old fashioned values
I look for and see -
Your confidence,
Common sense,
Your honesty,
Sincerity,
Your quirkiness
And peacableness.
But most of all
Your peerless take on life
Is what does it for me.
Will you be my wife?
Spiderman, Spiderman,
How you do woo!
And you have such qualities
That draw me to you -
Your patience,
Respect,
Your considerable intellect,
Your gentleness,
Strength of mind -
I could go on at length and find
You could be my cobweb?
I could be your fly?
Could you be the man for me
Until the day I die?
What more can I say than
You may have concurred
That I do things my own way.
So can you guess?
Little Miss Muffet Said Yes!
And do you know what?
As they lay there
On that Le Corbusier chair
Without a care in the world -
And you know it's not novel
To be graphic -
They were not afraid at all.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Late night conversations about sweet nothings,
I feel as though he is just -something,
Something so goofy and unique,
I smile from ear to ear as he speaks,
I stay up almost the entire night and day,
It would be easier if he were to be next to me and stay,
He says we practically read each others' minds -telepathy,
I can go on and on about his sympathy,
We make funny faces all the time,
He is what I call -a dime,
Not a dime's worth nor it's size,
It's quirkiness and shine,
And to end this poem is hard - just in a few lines,
His eyes and smile fill the room with light,
There is not one thing I regret from these,
-These sleepless nights.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
He looked at her,
Her hands were caked with black inks,
Filled with words she will never utter through her mouth,
How effortlessly she twists her hair into messy bun,
How she never ever wears make-up,
Daring enough not to conceal her beautiful imperfections,
How she clung books tightly to her chest,
Like a shield defensing her,
And how she walks confidently, yet stares on the ground afraid to have any eye contact,
I can't help but get attracted more and more by her quirkiness,
Every ******* time she passes by me.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Personal REPOST - Not a poem.
~~~~~~~~~
My guardian Archangel is Ariel
known as the Goddess of nature
like I am
Ariel Archangel heals
the planet animals responsible for natural elements
Earth, wind, water, and fire.
Ariel's role as an archangel
relates to inspiration.
Aries people treat breaking up like a sport, and they do not want to lose. Aries would rather dump than be dumped, and so if tension has been building, they're likely to be the ones to initiate the split.
Since Arians want to move on faster than their exes, they're often the first to rebound, but they're rarely malicious and will self defend
as last resort!
Aries-born people are favorited
for theirfierce and independent approach to life being attracted
to their uninhibitedness
and a wild personality.
Aries-born people are attracted to the quirkiness and weirdness of
Aquarians and both get along like a house on fire!
Unlike any other zodiac sign,
Aries is more hung up on the memories they created with the ex-partners than their exes themselves
they avoid competition
For Arians, it's not at all about getting back together, but it is all about the nostalgia that ~hits them hard.~
Aries cannot stand people who try to set the tone in their life!
Aries hate ~intrusiveness.~
Do not push Aries or give them ultimatums-they alone will decide when to call and see you!
Aries are quite confident
energetic and a bit of a daredevil
it's no surprise that their biggest fear is the fear of going unnoticed
or being forgotten.
Aries poeople, Arians, want to make a mark on the world, and they like to have many accomplishments
achievements under their belt.
~~~~~
When an Aries is hurt, they will let you know with their blunt and impulsive actions.
Aries' element is fire making them naturally very passionate,
inclined towards exploration,
and a little bit scary
~when set off.~
Don't tell an Aries a greater lover roams your head
spinning your inner thighs
Your Aries will become
a puff of smoke
and be GONE
Aries born women are
fire and ice cold and hot
symultaneously
in your arms
If you are ever kissed
by an Aries
you are truly loved
cherished and adored
but only if,
if, you reciprocate fully
~~~~~~~~~
Defined by: Karijinbba
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
When you open your eyes for the first time
When you have your first laugh-until-you-cry
When you first climb that mountain to see the skies
It is when your friends get you high.
Laughing about the taste of the stars that you stole
When the man in the moon finally shows up at last.
When you bring your friends over to crack jokes and have a blast.
It is the weirdness of you and your friends
And the quirkiness of your trends
It's the dimming light when you say good-bye.
But always knowing that you might see them next July.
It's the spark of the fireworks and the lights of Christmas.
It is when you feel happy... for no reason.
You're just smiling for the season.
It's when you're free and full of glee.
That is the perfection.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Rehashing the rare
Out with the new,
In with the old.
She's always had a thing
For the things that exude
A quirkiness and a bucolic charm
The smell of old books
The black and the white
Good ol' Chaplin, James Dean
And the Sound of Music
The Beatles, a tape recorder
High-waisted pants
And the gramophone
And a rustic old bar
With a gruff bartender
Who's off his rocker
But he'll double up as your therapist
And for the boy with the dark brown eyes
Who looks across the bar at her.
And smiles.
It's all black and white again
Except this time,
It isn't her favourite Casablanca scene
But a white screen
And a thousand particles
Microcosmic
A milieu of
Unfathomable numbers float
Through the atmosphere
Connecting her to him.
And she doesn't want that.
She's always had a thing for the old,
But he makes her doubt that.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
All along my unconscious
has been consumed by your
beauty which is below
the threshold of my wakefulness
Yet I crave it
You're not of classical beauty
but such a timeless white Lily
whose pureness grasps the mind
And remind me that I'm alive
For its adoration, essence is not
in form but in the method
Your quirkiness captures
my infinite imagination
You keenly read the mapping
of my unrestrained tears
Your pureness lies in innocence
Mine in experience
A kind of beauty
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
Stability Unstable,
Like the ocean tides,
Connected only through the shift in seasons.
I'm tangled in the intricacies of life.
Alone, I watch the way things move;
How a smile between strangers is pure
How quirkiness is a form of building walls
Blissfully waiting to burst at the first sign of reality
Underlying emotions shifting every second,
Deeper into the unknown
I walk on broken steps without perception
My head held captive in the clouds
Without care of destination,
Yet striving to arrive
Lost between here and there
Well composed
Slowly witty
Brightly burnt out
Ambitiously un-motivated
Spirit trapped in body
Body trapped by mind
An oxymoron of unconscious awareness
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
We named you Daisy
for your white fur, because
we liked to name our cats after flowers.
But you were not only a white cat;
you were "odd-eyed white",
one orange and one blue.
Everyone loved your beautiful quirkiness.
You lived as our other cats did,
tame house-cat in the day,
but free to come and go;
half-wild at night,
following your instincts,
even if they were dangerous at times.
Then, one sunny morning,
I saw you from the bedroom window,
running back home, across the road,
and that time it really was dangerous,
as a car came past, exceeding the speed limit,
because in a race between speeding car
and running cat,
in the event of a tie,
the cat loses.
I ran downstairs and found you
by the gate,
warm, unmarked,
but unmoving, unbreathing
Carrying you gently to the back garden,
I laid you on the ground,
preparing to dig your grave,
as Marmaduke, our tomcat, came by.
Not the father of any kittens,
but surrogate to all our females.
After a birth
he knew what to do.
He would visit briefly,
sniff the mother, sniff the kittens,
walk off, apparently unconcerned,
and a day or two later
return with a mouse for mother.
That’s what father cats do,
even surrogates.
Only that day there was no birth,
no kittens,
and this time
he sniffed at you,
sniffed at the hole I had started digging,
and walked off
in complete puzzlement.
This time he did not know what to do.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 4:27 AM UTC
**When a poem comes to me,
I see a mysterious maiden,
her presence thrills me beyond words,
my eyes, gaze deep in to hers, get electrified.
poems, a few of them, gently lift me up,
I remember my mom and dad doing it to me,when I was a kid,
I wanted to be lifted up again and again,
the imagery transports me to an old world,
where my eyes were curious, senses growing outwards.
And a few had hit me hard and , even hurt,
'cause I failed to hear, what needs to be heard
I reel under the impact, but when I get up,
love it, find I am not the one before, transformed!
And this one , meditative, makes me still,
lights a gentle flame within, I feel divine.
And the fun poem regales me like nothing else-
ever did, with quirkiness and humor, without limits.
A sublime poem is the one that takes me across,
either up above my mind's sky, so vast,
or depths of marine blue where whales navigate,
I am an unknown continent, waiting to be explored,
this poem is an oceanographic expedition mysterious,
I find myself a deep sea creature altogether-
a new species, none has ever found or named,
and its observer at the same time, magical!**
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:41 AM UTC
Sometimes I wonder If we could've been
If your squinty smile and long black hair
Could've shunned the demons that always held me back
Maybe if your quirkiness could've made me less of a hack
I don't know I think to myself
You and Me, could've never been
Your perfection was on every level
From your inner
To your outer
From level 1-1
to level 8-4
it seemed like my thoughts were just a locked door
Preventing myself to take the first step
into your world
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
If you stay with me, I promise to make you smile every day with my weird, silly jokes and random quirkiness.
I promise to hold your hand when you need someone to walk with you through the storm.
I promise to share my food with you, and willingly give you the last bite of my favorite ice cream, give you good massages, cook you your favorite meals, and laugh at your stupid jokes.
I will accompany you on all your adventures, road trips, food trips, and anything else you want to do.
I'll help you accomplish everything on your bucket list.
I will listen when you tell me about how horrible your day was when you came home from work.
I promise to hold you in my arms when you feel like your whole world is crashing down.
I'll make you see that there are a million reasons why I will stay. "
Feb 26, 2022
Feb 26, 2022 at 9:39 AM UTC
Lovely girl across the world, in my state of mind you dwell
Your feet and legs covered in sand, your hair lettered with shells
Over, under, and inside my heart, your castle wins the prize
Making up in personality what you may lack in size
I've devised a cunning plan, you see, to bring us close together
And I'll enclose all the details in the contents of this letter
Not one more day can go by with me being so far from Grace
And so I'll trek over the land and seas so see the face
Of the heavenly traces on Earth, I'd say that your the best
A mixture of both sand and sea, blood, bone, and quirkiness
Hope this letter finds you in high spirits wherever you are
And that in the night someday we'll upon the very same stars
For the one who loves you has brought up all the sheets he could find
And brought scraps of lumber together will nails that bind
Into a vessel to weather the sea that splits you and I apart
So the two piece puzzle may have a chance to link into one heart
And though I know the shore is your first love overall
I hope you will come to me if I ever dare to call
And I will hold soon enough as I peak on past the day
And know your lover boy loves you forever and always
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
Conversation inhibited,
Yet also free of constraint,
Small talk a challenge,
In depth conversation my forte
And interrogation my ally
Bombarding others with quick fire questions,
‘You’re too deep’ it has been said more than once
As I reveal too much once again.
Misunderstanding social cues,
Eye contact a no no,
****** expressions a blur,
Tone of voice a trigger,
Hence emotions a minefield.
Literal listening,
Literal speaking,
Leading to sense of humour bypass,
Don’t waste your innuendos, irony and sarcasm on me,
Direct speaking is what wins the day.
Overwhelming sensory overload,
Confusion,
Misunderstanding,
Mishearing,
Tendency towards negativity,
Introversion,
A war of words
Inside my head
Pouring out my mouth,
Tearing me apart
And those whom I love.
Now working hard to change the script,
To be aware of the impact of deficiencies, defensiveness and quirkiness,
To remain level headed and mindful
As I alternate between tiptoeing and running roughshod
Through the labyrinth of life.
Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 9:09 PM UTC
The sheep in the nearby pasture
Heard what the cows had done
In the building of their rocket ship
And they too wanted one
A few of them shaved for pocket change
Black market wool brings a hefty price
While some went out to Las Vegas
To try their luck at the roll of the dice
First thing they did with the money
Was to spring for Sherman's release
The only one in the family to go to Harvard
Though it was for experiments on his mind which apparently they fleeced
Right away they noticed something odd about Sherman
Something that just wasn't quite right
But passed it off as genius quirkiness
And let that idea slide by
They told Sherman what it was they wanted
Said he had a mad...um...master plan
All the sheep turned and Baaa'd together
What was that, that he just said?
For weeks all they heard was banging and clanging
From inside their farmers shed
The only activity they saw outside
The massive delivery of Dominos crazy bread
One day the shed doors flew wide open
There stood Sherman as mad as acid rain
No doubt among the sheep in the pasture
He was Bonkers, Loony, Loopy...okay Sherman's insane
As he drug his creation into the open
Not a one in the crowd uttered a word
Till little Bobby Black Sheep spoke up and said
Is that a cows udder?...is that what they think that they just herd?!
Sherman took that moment of bewilderment
To swing onto udder #4
Strapping himself inside of his contraption
And shooting off for the stars
Sherman is still up there circling the planet
Did you hear about the phenomenon in Spain?
Just the other day something amazing there happened
There was the pouring of milk instead of rain...
But we know how that miracle happened
And that it came from the udders galore
Cause when your traveling through space like Sherman
What else would udders be for
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
I have to wipe
the **** from
the toilet seat
before I sit down
to write this, and
outside the drunks
are drunker than I
remember.
They slur their nothingness
so that once again
I sense comfort
in an accidental,
quick death
away from it all.
There is no chance
of joining in again;
at the best of times
it is a test
of toleration.
This game is hate
filled envy
for the ignorant.
Their confidence,
quirkiness, complaints
and compliance
are the holes
in my weary armour...
For, the few occassions
when I am truly alone
I am god himself
staring down at the landscape
as if it were bare,
with a face consuming grin
as I write away
their worth
and, with it,
mine.
Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 3:30 AM UTC
Love those accouterments, my eyes catch, even if hidden,
though I don't particularly pry for them in any one, such ambiguity
helps to see world as a place, cryptic messages get transacted,
some are very open even, though no one seems to notice,
like this women I go out with, a free spirit, not the type
who keeps few secrets stashed away in a dark corner of an attic.
Enormous wings she has, I was fascinated by their lasciviousness
how light she would feel, when she soars up viewing the scene
from above, blessed she is , an envied celestial being
she would be in all other's eyes."Ever fancied flying on
your own wings?" I ask her, in a tone so matter of fact
not revealing I know her secret, as if just to know her feeling
as a flier.But her words make me think how strange this world is!
Just imagine this, she was never aware of her wings! How strange?
Pure white, delicate, befitting to her petite figure, soft yet sturdy,
her wings weren't a reality, how can it be, when I myself am a witness
the wings never came to her notice, so they cannot exist, she argued.
Her wings were thin, white, silver petals, that shines during dawn and dusk
at a midnight moment she levitates, we fall deep in a pit of velvety clouds
but by some quirkiness of reality, quantum physics may explain perhaps,
it isn't there, her wings,though for the purpose of mathematical calculations
it is counted as a reality; in my imagination, she makes me fly with her.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
When life deals us cards,
make everything taste like it is salt
then you come through like the sweetener you are
to bring the bitter taste to a halt.
I like the way you smile from cheek to cheek
Those deep-set brown eyes
makes me fall in love all over and over
again
Those deep-set brown eyes.
the quirkiness in your laugh
where you have no worry about the world watching,
You are free because the world is watching.
As the sun drips down your face
without a single care in the world,
and in that moment there was us.
we stared up to the sky
sang 'goodnight n go' at the
top of our lungs.
Boy, you're such a dream to me.
before you speak, don't move
because i don't want to wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
[...]
When life deals us cards,
make everything taste like it is salt
then you come through like the sweetener you are
to bring the bitter taste to a halt.
Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 12:40 PM UTC
If you have the expectation
you can avoid the unexpected
in life, then you will never
end up making a left turn
unbeknownst that it is right.
For it is the simple sense of you,
and the vulnerability, and the
admirable quirkiness within it.
The unquestionable understanding
of self stands atop the world.
And with wandering eyes, which
are unlike any star or moon,
and a bold heart that beats
beneath your chilled skin, you
hope to find a deserving warmth.
So you take this world by storm
and create waves that rush
and break even the smallest pebble.
A world that was not ready
for such a breathtaking force.
And this world was stunned,
ill-prepared to embrace this gift.
You threw the world off course.
Now caught in a strange situation,
he wonders what's next in store.
This world has been overcome
by a force it can't avoid.
But this force is something special
the world can't seem to deny,
so it's attempting to tempt it.
This world has been overrun
by a light that gives the blind sight,
something beauty can hardly describe,
something that is overpowering,
something that this world can't shake.
Your sight has livened this world
and made it greener in all corners.
And now whenever your bright eyes
set sight upon it's bountiful land
it is overcome by a storm of feelings.
But what this world is yet to know
is if this force is receptive.
Because this world wants to show
how it feels towards something
that is so unearthly beautiful
Inside and out.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
First thing I do is check the date
Good thru two thousand eighty five
Haven't had a can this fresh
Since Calvin Coolidge was alive
You can call it quirkiness
Each time I give the top a thump
Best way to tell if it's perfectly jelled
To the consistency that I love
If you know what I'm taking about
Well right you are and yes I am
That delectable treat of mystery meat
Known around the world as A Can Of Spam
Spam only comes in one savory flavor
King of canned meat there is only one
You remember long after your dining pleasure
By the amount of film left on your tongue
Do as I do and save the lid
A smart move you would be making
Comes in handy after dining
To help along with the tongue scraping
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
So many Junes and Julys
I spent watching the paint dry
on our brand new cream walls
instead of going to play football
with the other kids my age in the street.
I sat and wondered why
my shaking knees did not smile, why
my bony fingers could not disguise
their quirkiness under pretty blue eyes
like all the other girls did.
And yet many paint coats later
I now realise that these walls have not changed
anything but their colour
in the many years my parents have lived here.
My parents, who spent so many years teaching me
to be loyal and kind,
not only to others
but to myself.
I like to think that if the walls could talk, they would say:
It does not matter what colour you decide to
dye your hair (or your walls),
because those who really love you
could not care less.
We have seen you grow into the person you are today;
stubborn, passionate and genuine,
but we know that you may still need to borrow
other people’s glasses to see it.
The road to self love is difficult
but know that you must love yourself
before loving anybody else.
You may not believe it yet
because you see others as the galaxies which
you could never be, but we promise that
you are the stars, and anyone who refuses
to look through a telescope to see that
does not deserve to see you shine.
There are lakes and rivers waiting for you
with open arms, and sunrises
which will put on their best colours
just for your eyes to see.
Your body is made of stardust,
you are stronger than the trees you have grown to love,
and though you may not be perfect
you are enough.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 7:37 AM UTC
I am the kind of person
To write love poems for someone I just met
Thinking that maybe words can make up for my lack of confidence
My quirkiness
My overwhelming insecurities
And that awkward laugh that often escapes my mouth without warning
Phrases eager to leave my lips
I compose sonnets without thinking
Sew them on to jean pockets so that
Everytime you get undressed
You think of me
I don't know if that's socially acceptable
But I'm willing to take the risk
See
I am the person
Who fears coming off as creepy
Yet still hands out lines of poetry like candy on street corners
I swear my purpose
Is not
To reel you in
Capture you between spiderwebs spun from my fingertips
My intentions are honest
I am not looking for one night stand
Meaningless
Not on a constant hunt for momentary happiness
I want something that will last longer than sweetness
Longer than saccharin
Hit harder than whiskey
Won't leave a bitter aftertaste on my tongue
I have drowned too many times in salty waters
To know that I am more likely to sink than float
I have not yet learned how to swim in the deep end
I do not know how many attempts it will take to get to the center of me
There is no sweet middle
Waiting to be divulged
I have blocked off the pathways to myself
Not very often do I open them back up
I have a sign tied around my body stating
Warning
Do not enter
You might get stuck
I have a heart that is filled with quicksand and duct tape
The longer you stay around the harder it is
For me to let go
I am not trying to trap people
But everytime they leave,
A part stays with me
I have a photo albums on the insides of my skin
Sometimes the memories flowing through my veins pile up
And it is too much
All at once
I am the kind of person
Who runs towards sharp edges of opportunity with open arms
And then complains about the bleeding
I am the kind of person
Who can't help but repeat
Repeat
Everything I feel
Until I don't feel it anymore
I have promised myself
That I will stop falling at first sight
I have hit my head relentlessly
With severity
Too many times
But has never been enough for me to stop
None of this
Has ever been enough for me to stop
I am the kind of person
To write love letters
And never send them
Keeping them behind locked doors
Keeping them
For myself
To remember every detail
I am the kind of person
That may never know
How exactly
To love
I am still learning
How to love
Myself.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
i have given everything.
the veins of my heart, perfectly lined beneath you.
my insecurities full in a box of metal.
the patchy scars presented as paintings, artifacts.
my quirkiness, scribbled and doodled on many pages.
my love.
that is the sky. the grass. the birds. the taste of air.
my love cannot be confined.
or defined.
it is everywhere. and everything.
darling, i only hope it's enough.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC