"underappreciated" poems
I just want to go 200 on the interstate
and see if the world still wants me
My skill is wasted on slowness
Underappreciated and mistaken for arrogance
Behind the wheel I am confirmed
Decisions here are not the customs of monotony
But a nuanced puzzle of physics
I am a navigator in an ocean of outcomes
The engine is roaring with me
We were made for exploding
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
A devoting father will all struggles
working 12 hour shifts without a juggle
Sacrifices all his time
just to work and earn a dime
Never a thanks or a smile
nobody thinks of all the miles and miles
The entire time he walks to hike
with all the sweat it brings to strikes
His put everyday to work under pressure
working 3-4 jobs to earn a little amount of treasure
His ungreatful children brings unwanted tears
nobody can hear his silent fears
Nothing will ever be enough and he knows
but he tries his best not to show
He sits and pray behind the closed door
hearing his family screams and he cries more
His outstanding performance of hard work bloodshot eyes
completely wasted on his family disgusts of lies
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
She is reminded she isn't good enough everyday.
"You can't do by yourself, you need a man," they say.
No one tells her she is beautiful just the way she is.
No one tells her that she belongs to herself, she is not 'his'.
She is taught to hate her body by them.
She is told how unworthy she is by them.
No one tells her about the fierce fire burning in her heart.
That she too could be someone's glowing light in the dark.
No, she is only told how she needs to change.
She is overlooked and underappreciated at every stage.
So she just writes her story down.
As a reminder of who she was before she let her real self drown.
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 4:50 AM UTC
She moved with all the grace of a garbage truck
this is not to say she was graceless altogether
only that her movements were rollingly robotic
and she was prone to fits of repetitious arm-swings
with a physical presence neccesary
though sadly underappreciated
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 11:49 AM UTC
It was a peaceful setting
one that had its own way
of taking people back
to a place and time
where they had experienced
peace of mind and spirit
Their minds eye awake
with eyes closed they returned
to the earlier and quieter
days and times
times free of stress
free of the rat race that fills today's world
For this moment
alone with their remembrance
their lives were once again changed
in their solitude
they were able to once again
find their hearts
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
she is my silene stenophylla
rare, pure, beautiful
underappreciated, unnoticed
humans make me so angry
because they don't see
the wonder in front of them
her soul is delicate
yet withstanding;
the petals of my silene stenophylla
that I could but protect her
yet how
when all I want for her is to bloom
I worry for her future
because the silene stenophylla
is 32,000 years old
and it is all alone
none left of its kind
if I could, I would be her kind
my beautiful flower
but that she could really be mine
lacking that, I would wish she have the world
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
Underappreciated,
For overworking.
And yet look at what you expect!
A smile every day and a simple
'No problem, I can take care of it.'
And you answer the phone,
Take your several smoke breaks,
Try to impress the higher ups,
While looking down on all of us.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
To be relied upon
But to have no reliance.
Underappreciated.
To give
But to not receive.
Underappreciated.
To forgive and forget
But to be forgotten yourself.
Underappreciated.
To make time up
But to revive no seconds back.
Underappreciated.
To give affection
But to receive nothing but a smile.
Underappreciated.
To give faith
But to never be beilived.
Underappreciated.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
**How many people saw an apple drop before Newton?
And probably named it something else...
Like "blaaaah"?
Who came up with the idea of wishing upon a shooting star?
Another man
Another scar
Forever visible, on the skin of an independant thinker?
Man made idieologies, either complimenting
Or supressing personalities
Do not let education ruin your originality
Do not
Be ****** into mob psychology
Like dogs
Pick that which is beneficial to you
To the rest
Yes, be skeptic
Not everything they teach is true
An education is one of the most important things a man can do
I mean 'can get'
See? Right there? I messed with you
And turned a fact into a much more ineresting read
I owe that to being educated
Also to the fact that I think out of the box
These words, I don't 'write'
I 'feel', I 'bleed'
Education is overrated, and at the same time underappreciated
Makes no sense?
Indeed
It's not supposed to
I'm just saying that I'm not opposed to
The idea of learning something new
As long as it is something you want to do
Or something beneficial to you
At the same time, not everything they tell you is true
Self education is more of what I do
These days
Change these ways, the system put in place
Stay intelligent
Mind's independantly placed
Knowledge, creativity, confidence... straight face
I call it 'streetelligent'.**
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 6:36 AM UTC
She sits there
At the desk
Her head spinning
As it begins
Day in and day out
All she ever feels
Is the feeling
Of being everything
She's underappreciated,
And under rested.
She's overtired,
And overworked
Her friends are the only ones
Who appreciate her
For who she is
Not what she does
They're the reason why
She’s still hanging on
To that rope she's clinging to
That just keeps fraying.
Sometimes she just feels
Like she's nothing at all
Or even worse-
Like the energizer bunny
She keeps going and going
But not on her own terms
There’s always something that needs to get done
And it's up to her to do it
What she wants to do
Keeps getting put on hold-
Things that she needs to do
Take a number and wait in line
She feels empty
Like she's nothing at all
She’s running on autopilot
And it’s running her life
Even sleeping doesn’t help
For the horrid dreams kick in
But I guess when you're on automatic
Nothing seems right
But yet there's hope
That keeps peeking through
This dark soul
That has engulfed me
For as long as I have a heart
That continues to beat
My soul can remain pure
Even if no one can see
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
Silence.
Silence is one of the most underappreciated things.
Silence is powerful.
Silence is the difference between comedy and tragedy.
Silence brings the soul to rest.
Right now I'm sitting in silence.
In a dorm room. On a couch.
Listening.
The concrete walls are selphane to the chatter next door.
Drunken fallacies fall to the floor and fail.
The dangling words shout for help.
And when it all comes to an end and it comes crashing down.
Silence.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 11:00 PM UTC
She was constantly shedding flowers,
Falling from locks of hair,
People always stepping on them,
As they didn't see them there.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
will my endeavor be fruitless ?
did I neglect slumber,
live in solitary for days,
numb my sorrow with alcohol
trap myself within the same walls I get lonely in
being only distracted by the scribbling of this pen on a paper
just to leave thou with discontentment ?
a poets worst nightmare;
(an underappreciated piece)
I am writing a poem for one who has words in the palm of her hands
like God has the earth
I am writing to one whom words bow down to her feet
like prophets to God while on his throne he seats.
Is my piece profound enough to make thy beautiful brown eyes water
or make your skin prickle with goosebumps ?
will my words speak to you in ways no one ever has that my piece becomes your drug when you want to flee from all that chastises you ?
I can only hope the first stanza grasps your attention
and you get lost in poetic bliss
and the last leaves you breathless
to the point you crave my kiss
to restore air to your dying lungs.
But that's probably just wishful thinking
your least liked piece is probably more breathtaking than my most cherished
you leave your readers satiated by your words and rhythm that they now worship you.
they yearn to ease their angst by reading what you vent.
how intimidating it is to write a poem to a poet
great anxiety as they fixate their eyes on the paper
you hope, you just hope they don't roll their eyes in disdain at the last full stop.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
Rudimentary trifling in creativity
Boiled down, frothy lines
Stumbled, broken relations.
Too much, too open,
Yet nothing is hidden between.
It’s not about the words
Stalky presentations mask what is meant
Overthought, underappreciated.
Expecting the praise, knowing the torment
Embarrassment.
I want the spaces.
**** the lines.
A blank page says more than a thousand full.
No thoughts, shot spark
Tired form, ugly flow.
She has no shame,
Takes no judgment
Jealous gawk,
Rooted fears,
Expression is the enemy
Lack of substance drives the ghost.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 3:12 AM UTC
(This is a poem I wrote with a friend. Her lines are capitalized.)
THREE-LEGGED CHAIR
From start to finish
Never diminish
I ALWAYS TRY
I GIVE MY PLENTIEST
This I say
Sometimes I follow thru
That's me
What about you?
I DO WHAT I CAN
IS THAT ENOUGH?
SOMETIMES I WONDER
THOUGHTS...YEAH THEY'RE TOUGH
Don't forget to breathe
It's an always
And most underappreciated need
When everything seems wrong
Take time
To take time
To see the best
The pure
The beauty
Of being good
No one can be you
But you
WHEN TRYING ISN'T ENOUGH
WHAT DO YOU DO?
NOTHING IS GOOD ENOUGH
SHOULDN'T THAT BE A CLUE?
I SHOULD GET ONE
YEAH I KNOW
An ever attempt
At bettering reality
A step is a step
An attempt at betterness
To sate destruction
Never let it listen
To ********
Never give up
Ever
WE HAVEN'T
WE WON'T
WE CAN'T
WE HAVE HOPE
Don't be a dope
Always and forever
More than a chance
Sometimes
A dance
With possibility
Forever
Reality
LOOKING THRU THE WINDOW
STARING AT THE TV
ANYTHING I CAN
TO ESCAPE REALITY
I LIVE AND BREATHE
I TRY MY BEST
An attempt gives you strength
Because it's more than the rest
WORDS OF WISDOM
WORDS OF TRUTH
Actions
See what is being said
SOMETIMES IT'S THAT
THAT HURTS
EVERYONE DOESN'T NEED TO KNOW
ALL OF YOUR THOUGHTS
But if you keep the hurt to yourself
That's your fault
SOMETIMES TRUTH HURTS
THIS I KNOW
I'M AN ADULT
WE ALL HAVE ROOM TO GROW
No matter how much
We know
Or have learned
Stand up
To be loved
Or burned
IT TAKES HEART
TO HAVE THAT DONE
IT TAKES TIME
WE'RE ONLY ONE
PERSON
THAT IS
WE'RE NOT THE SAME
WE ALL FEEL DIFFERENT
WE ALL HATE PAIN
WE'RE ONLY HUMAN
WE ALL BLEED THE SAME
SOMETIMES LIFE *****
I WONDER
WHERE'S THE GAIN?
Humanity has survived
Up to this point
With or without a joint
Keep trying
Never lying
Breathe it
Live it
NEVER A LIAR
I KEEP MY WORD
IT'S NEVER BOUNCY
NOTHING LIKE A CHEESE CURD
Yeah, nerd
A bottle in a brown bag
Never is an
End
Until this one
How many times
Saying
Never again?
YOU WISH THIS WAS
THE ONE TO BE DONE
IT'S FUNNY
SO I'M NOT READY
TO STOP
THE CLOCK
THIS POEM
IS GOOD
SON
DON'T HATE
APPRECIATE
WE'RE SITTING HERE
PLAYING A GAME
Somebody won
Somebody lost
Hello and Goodbye
Always lost
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
Right.
What is right?
Nothing that comes from me.
Wrong.
Am I wrong?
Doubtful; it's all I'll ever be.
Underappreciated.
Undeserving. Which weighs
heavier on my heart and mind?
My conscience is crippled
I can't count the ripples
of sadness chasing behind
Solitary isolation
From loving interaction
I wither, alone, inside myself
I wish to shred my skin to bits
Cry what I detest with every stitch
Am I right to feel
Anything at all?
Doubtful; I'm always wrong.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
I am a broken soul
You are super glue
I am brand new
I am unaware
You know every last detail
I am well taught
I am blind
You see every inch
I am able to see the inside
I am hurt
You are the healer of all
I am comforted
I am alone
You're always there
I am hand in hand with believers
I am unloved
You have loved from the start
I am covered in agape
I am misunderstood
You comprehend more than anyone is capable of
I am aprehended beyond reason
I am confused
You open minds
I am clear minded
I am underappreciated
You smile at your granted gifts being used
I am gratified
I am a sinner
You are the way, the truth, the life
I am saved
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 9:22 AM UTC
At the bottom you lay.
Not broken,
but old.
You've been moved around so many times.
You cannot count the cold hands that have touched you.
But they don't need you.
For those who don't know, You're Junk
For those that do, Understand.
The places you have been,
The passages you have unlocked,
The darkness that has taken over most of your life.
Forever underappreciated yet still there,
when they need you.
Sometimes they don't understand.
One day they will come back,
They will want to remember the past
They can't unlock their future without it.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
I want you to know that this cake
You’ve baked from scratch
With long fingernails and countless bits of batter stuck underneath
Your hands, to me, were magical beings always creating in underappreciated
Ways, this cake made me feel whole – not full or fat
though yes, I ate it all.
I want you to know that this basket
You’ve weaved from scratch
With disparate pieces of old broken racks, wires, and chunks
Your quasi hoarding of useless junk, we’d always make fun of you for, redeemed
In my eyes, this basket, you strapped to the back of my college bike,
forever useful – for carrying books,
though yes, I lost the bike.
I want you to know that this home
You’ve built from scratch
With calloused hands and weary feet, through many evenings after long days worked
Your refusal to rest until you finish another window or tile, you literally put a roof over
My head, this home gives me every comfort I could ask for – feelings of safety and love,
though yes, I leave now more.
I want you to know that this me
You’ve made from scratch
With no recipes, instructions, or blueprints in mind, but only the guideline of endlessly trying
Your best, and for all the strengths and mistakes that come, they’ve molded me into who I am
This me, she wants you to know, is growing big caring and strong, with no guidelines but you
in mind – trying not to take all you’ve given me for granted,
though yes, I sometimes still do.
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
When the economy tanks
Unregulated globalized free market capitalism run amuck
People are told to be thankful to have a job
Even if you are miserable with that job
And with service sector jobs making up 80% of employment
Misery is widespread
Underpaid, undervalued, underappreciated
We are human beings for ***** sake
We are starved for more than selling shoes
If being thankful for misery is the best option
It's time to re-evaluate
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
First among many.
That was me, to you; the first from the last.
The last among many.
That was you, to me; the last from the rest.
Quite a nice position, wasn't it?
A woman of many talents,
of many stories that were too late told,
of hardships in silence buried.
A lifetime of rollercoasters,
of standing on a pedestal
and being struck to the ground,
heel to skull, teeth to pavement,
threatening to never let up.
Yet you did, and have not spoken of it since.
Do the words 'too little, too late' ring any bells?
Does the phrase 'less is more' still hold true?
In my mind, I see you in an ocean of darkness
Helpless, and friendless,
suffering in silence.
Yet, you're hardened by years of experience,
of hurt in the dark, of scars in the night.
You, an old dog,
and one of your oldest tricks --
licking your wounds in isolation,
willing the world to do its worst
as you weathered the storm,
one that you've already withstood before.
I can only describe you as an Inverse;
a woman who,
ignoring her own palms skinned to muscle, to bone,
built ramps and laid bridges
to give children enough space to run;
who, turning her back from a life of rejection and hate,
showered everyone with only gratitude, and love,
and everything that she knew she deserved but never received.
You, who brought words to life
in a language so deeply underappreciated,
have rendered the world speechless.
You, who have shown strength
in the face of adversity,
have rendered your blood weak.
A woman of contradictions,
contradictions of the best kind --
for even in death, we celebrate life.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC
Alright lads here it comes full truth unvarnished
lately I feel life is tarnished,
with this Patina upon my soul,
I tell you all I won't grow old.
We won't be sharing drinks and dandling grandkids boys,
this world is grey, I'm null and void,
underappreciated hated unemployed,
a jaded unappreciative oul ****
yeah I deserve that-I can't front
no more lies but bitter truths,
lets rip these forgeries out by roots,
lets force this Gall and Hemlock down,
a deadly cocktail but I've found,
once choked down I'm Numb...comfort cold,
to you I'll leave behind I know,
believe me please...just let me go
Chorus/Sample 2
"So if you love me let me go
And run away before I know
My heart is just too dark to care
I can't destroy what isn't there
I only wish you weren't my friends
Then I could hurt you in the end
my own was banished long ago
It took the death of hope to let you go"
all right lads "order! down in front"!
a lot to take in all at once?
I know I know my lying smile
has fooled you all but it's been awhile
I'm sorry Bro I really am,
I tried my best to face the flames
but now I'm falling, no more games
no more lies Procrastination,
no more ******** obfuscation,
took the Beck Depression inventory...scored 100%!
been through a few too many ****** up life events,
more just round the corner-the Reaper awaits,
but It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
"So if you love me let me go
And run away before I know
My heart is just too dark to care
I can't destroy what isn't there
I only wish you weren't my friends
Then I could hurt you in the end
my own was banished long ago
It took the death of hope to let you go"
The End?
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 7:05 AM UTC
I am what no one writes about-
I am pink lipstick and elbows
I am neither delicate nor passionate
I am clean socks and the lack of smell that television has, when compared to books
I am what no one writes about-
I am shirts which hang rather than draping over supple skin
I am walks on the beach cut short abruptly
I am the itch at the back of your neck
I am what no one writes about.
I am what no one writes about-
I am unrebellious but unsuccessful daughters
I am unpeculiar unspectacular and uninspiring
I am underappreciated when underdressed
I am unthought of and unspoken.
I am who no one writes about.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC