"ungracefully" poems
Dance with me
We will move through this fantasy
Our eyes heavy with sleep
The highs and lows are haunting me
My heart was always yours to keep
But we move so ungracefully
Every step a tragedy
My heart cries
You are my Moonlight Sonata
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
“i haven’t seen her in years,”
said the hospital bed,
“though i’ve seen many others,
who sobbed violently like her,
who sunk into me like a young, rusting anchor.
who could not get comfortable in one position or
one mindset or
one truth.
i have felt them dig in their heels
and try to ache and and fight and
scream, just quietly enough not to wake their roommate.”
“i remember their shapes,”
said the hospital bed,
“how their voices rose slowly like a far-off ambulance siren,
how their faces fell when they remembered the emergency
was right here.
i have been kicked, punched,
clung to, held on to,
as if gravity switched suddenly and they feared
yet another aspect of the universe was against them.
i’ve seen ***** sheets and i’ve seen clean ones. i’ve
seen boys with tattoos on their faces and
razor marks on their arms. i’ve seen pain.
i’ve seen girls who wouldn’t turn off the lights,
girls who couldn’t turn off the lights,
girls who had turned a light off once and never wanted
to do anything else. i’ve seen pain.
i’ve felt love before
more often than the lovers thought they loved,
more strongly than the fighters thought
they could fight.
in shaky hands folding down blankets
more carefully than they have all week
in heads that flop ungracefully onto
pillows, securely,
fulfilled.
in the slow turn of a hospital bracelet
around a pale wrist,
in large, golden brown hands,
inspected through tear-blurred eyes,
through scratched glasses,
picked up off the floor after discovering
force won’t carry a ring of thin plastic
as far as you thought.
i hear change in whispers,
good night, good luck,
in hushed acceptance, in ‘yes,
i really am here’. in
screams that send nurses in panic only to find
you were laughing. in numbers,
in ‘five hundred milligrams,’
in ‘three gained pounds’, in
‘one more day’.
i hear shock, i hear fear,
in echoes of parents’ voices,
‘why here? why now?’
i have heard and seen and felt all of them.
but she,”
continued the hospital bed,
“hasn’t been in here in a while.
i haven’t heard her whisper
to her roommate about what she did
‘that night’, i haven’t seen her
sneak away from her pile of pajamas
as if she didn’t just hide something there,
i haven’t heard her empathize
with a pencil sharpener.
it’s been so long,
it’s hard to imagine,”
said the hospital bed,
‘i hardly remember her'.
if only the hospital bed knew
that she could hardly remember
herself from then either,
if only it knew she hadn't stopped
fighting once she left
if only it knew
how she felt when they said
she only needed to go to therapy
every other week.
it felt like progress,
and it felt like hope,
and no one better than
a hospital bed
could understand that.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
I rejoice in feeling ungraceful,
for grace is such a silly thing to bear.
I do not still the waded waters of my stay:
I lay unevenly and sing loud.
And try to leave reminders everywhere.
I step closer to the edge out where I play
and peer longingly into the raging seas.
When I die, listen to the voice of morning.
And you will hear me blowing ungracefully
as wind through the trees.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
I am a selfmade machine.
I respond to notice and attention.
Wires tampered
I say the strangest things.
Proclaiming my love to everyman
I've ever met
and then hiding as soon as they
retort.
I often wonder if I
just do what I think
I am supposed to do.
Perhaps the world has told me
as a woman,
to be constantly yearning;
never satisfied.
I ponder it over each day and night,
I churn it into bites
and swallow.
I find desperation.
Mere affectionate action,
making my stomach bleed.
Though as they waltz away,
I thirst for their hand
to cup my shoulder blade
hand to their shoulder seam.
What is a girl supposed to do.
Love pushes itself against me
and I find myself ungracefully turning it
away.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
A feather floating,
this feather is me and it was a pound heavier.
This once heavy feather merely floated.
I found solace in weighted thoughts,
my heart was born a feather
and it personified me
but it felt too special in all the wrong ways
when this feather aged and changed
many felt pain and this poor feather floated
but it added a few ounces to normalize itself
this heart of mine added weight by the day to
identify myself with other with ease.
I tried to float in this new chapter of my life,
but the feather floated ungracefully,
the feather lost its fluffy bits, bit by bit.
Crunch time and I dropped a pound of weight from my heart,
it was sudden, almost like losing baggage in an air plane terminal.
I use this feather as a saber,
it floats gently around conflicts that are blinded by shallow intents
and cuts the air.
It dances and spins,
this feather truly floats.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
When I was younger:
I shuffled along,
to no urgent song,
didn't march through my day strong. When young and strong are the best time for planned convictions.
There's no acting lazy, or slowing down to the crazy, unless you want to live ungracefully in this hard unforgiving world.
When I was younger:
I lacked logic cause I didn't make clear my premise,
like a man with no plan, a sap with no map. I wandered tither and yonder like a ghoal without a goal, a ghost least of most, no future to ponder.
When I was younger:
I bogged down in metaphorical feces cause I didn't watch where I was wading, forsaking and debating, planning is for suckers, futures are for chuckers.
When I was younger:
I did nil and stood still while the city raced around me, progress to astound thee, forgetting the earth constantly rotates 260 miles an hour- waiting for no one.
When I was younger:
Like the Dodo bird I forgot to grow wings, was eatin by rats and things, became extinct and unlinked to a place run on business, consumerism and cash. On the rocks I was dashed.
When I was younger:
I became he who loses, with a broken compass and excuses, laying laggardly leaderless, with the snoozing and the boozing, and sold my initiative for a bag of grass.
That's when I was younger:
I'm older than that now. But I still remember. It's hard being younger!!
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
I am rotting
every leaf ungracefully falling
used my branch for temporary support
I won't make the leaves stay
they've lost all their chlorophyll
they were causing unnecessary weight
I know its winter
its been winter for the past few years
I cant keep every leaf
but so many are falling off
I'm staying alive
because with every leaf that falls
winter is closer to an end
and spring comes nearer
flowers will bloom
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
I am a self-made machine.
I respond to admiration and attention.
Selfish being
unsure of the right response.
Wires tampered;
my mouth a dribbling mess.
proclaiming my love
to everyman
and hiding as soon as a retort.
There is no love within my jaw.
I often ponder,
am I fueled by normality?
Doing what we're designed to do?
Perhaps the world whispered to me
that women need to be
a constant yearning;
Hungry skin under ****** bones
never satisfied.
thought churned into mush
but still so hard
to swallow.
I find desperation.
Mere affectionate action,
making my stomach bleed.
Though as they waltz away,
I thirst for their hand
to cup my shoulder blade
hand to their shoulder seam.
What is a girl supposed to do.
Love pushes itself against me
and I find myself ungracefully
turning all that pleading for appreciation
straight into the void.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
Don't recite to me an other metaphor about your heart beat or a sonnet about my eyes
I'm gonna *****
Miss my mouth again
Like we're kissing for the first time
Fumble in the dark
Like you don't have my skin memorized
I admire you even when you're awkward
And honest and weird
Please tell me when you're scared
I wanna trust you
You can be a perfect poet with a pen
When you're reflecting on this later
But right now, if your words all fade
clumsily into each other, it's okay
Because, my darling angel,
I swear on every vowel of this messy piece
That I love you anyway
Lalala I love you always
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
Milk white,
pure as unbroken *****
innocence lain bare.
My touch,
aches, despoils. Alarms,
so soft; a feather’s caress.
Creamy smooth,
lotion filled ***** disarming
with a frown, down-turned; tears.
Teases me, terrifies me in its shroud. Free me, set me loose
from this cage, this frigid incarceration, lay me bare. My *****
split and opened; exposed. Soft, pink tongue, coated crimson,
makes love to my wounds. My kitten, sweet, laps the saucer.
Abstracted from the fragments, broken in the wind of
your Madonna, holy, sincere. Shadow creases the
wrinkled skin, veins; varicose. Age comes ungracefully,
my beauty, wrapped in plastic.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
Husky voice, once soothing and gracious,
crackles tales over lines built by Ma Bell.
Reportedly bluebirds
flit among dusty silk arrangements
to bask in afternoon sunshine
among the Dakota Farmer magazines
littered on the antique end table.
Imaginary camels prance
in the snowy field across the road,
ungracefully swing their long necks
and await their performance
in the annual Christmas display
beside the local Lutheran Church
Hallucinations of old friends,
long dead, entertain and comfort her
from the frayed and tattered
tweed couch alongside her
plaid overstuffed rocking chair.
Farewell entertainment,
seen through coated grey lens
as her body prepares
for eternal residence
in the beyond.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
*We met and I was instantly vulnerable. Ungracefully and utterly vulnerable. Your calloused hands were my favorite things to hold and god, I wish I was in your arms. For awhile, you found constant beauty in my chaos. Now you're searching for beauty everywhere that doesn't involve me. You say you're gone, but I call bullshit. I see you in every dream, I hear you in every song, I feel you throughout every memory and I swear I still taste your lips. You left and told me to leave you alone but it's hard to let go with your hands locked around my wrists. No force in this universe could stop me from loving you but ******* I wish gravity could bring my heart back. I count the days you aren't here and every day I pray you choose to end this streak. And I have always called you "home" but homes burn down everyday. Ours was bound to eventually. I just wish we could have salvaged what we had opposed to it all becoming ashes. You broke every promise to me other than the one you made when you swore you wouldn't come back. Hopefully you follow suit and break that promise too*
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 2:14 AM UTC
I close my eyes
as you take my hands
into your own,
and the warmth of your skin
sends chills down my arms
while our fingers interlock.
I have nothing left
to fight my tears with
and so I let them fall
ungracefully.
You tell me again
how everything will be alright,
but this is where my trust
falls short. Where I
fall short.
Close your eyes, baby,
don't look at me
or rather, who I've become
because of you.
I'm weaker than I've ever been
Weak in my knees
weak in my stomach
I'm falling apart.
Oh, I'm weak in my heart.
You make me crazy
darling. I don't know how
You manage to manipulate
every feeling I posess.
I am left
with hollow memories
as fear takes hold of me
while I wait
for that inevitable moment
when you will turn away,
walk away, run away,
from me.
Close your eyes, baby,
you don't need to see
the way I am falling apart
in your arms tonight,
the way I have fallen apart
in your heart tonight.
Release my hand now,
but gently,
for I cannot stand on my own.
Let me go now,
but slowly,
because I'm bound to break.
Say your goodbyes now,
but sweetly,
for I wish to remember you.
Close your eyes now,
quickly,
and this will all
be over.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 11:38 PM UTC
I used to believe
there could be somekind of
god, when I prayed
for someone like you.
Now that you’re not all
a prayer was meant to be,
maybe God’s as reckless
and as ungracefully human
as the drunk of you
and the misfit of me.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
My poetry,
is selfish
The dead
never stay dead
Twisting in their grave
No peace for rest
As I sprawl them ungracefully
Across my page
Dragging them from depths unknown
To live once more
Amongst my words.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
I could hear a pin drop.
No, a ball of cotton lightly float and touch down.
Upon a silk sheet.
A speck of dust land on another speck of dust thousands of light years away,
where the colours are inverted negative,
and creatures communicate in a way that doesn’t require poorly worded drunken blurbs
converted into electrons
travelling from one annoyingly loud metal chip to another.
I can hear the electrons converting
and I can hear them laughing at me.
I am a speck of dust upon a speck of dust.
Ungracefully, heavily falling onto my creased sheets.
Alone.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
Stabbing small ordeal
Betrayed chills clinging
Dependent
Remember
Threatens, turns, tongue
Destruction piece
Bliss loving,
Crave,
Fading features
await despite circles
ungracefully snap--
Caressing loneliness
Read, dare, try
apology--
stained.
Starry rush
composure probably
nagging,
closed slightly,
fighting.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
(my fashionably late xmas greeting
could long foster for this century 21 a meeting
of thee poetic minds pleasantry sent once
boot not worth reap peat ting).
up in the air
mine barrel sized girth
sloshes with cheap beer
wishing many strangers
happy holidays and good cheer
making me suitable
as santa claus and his team of rein deer
chewing gum to avoid
popping in both left and right ear
yet the rickety sleigh
may not become air borne I fear
landing ungracefully
scattering presents and gear
if wooden contraption alights,
a horrendous crash many will hear
no doubt instigating
children and adults to jeer
comparing this jolly fellow to king lear
yet running for the hills
as this mad man gets considerably near
the madding crowd,
who expected a more
healthy saint nick to a pear
with healthy physique
instead of the trademark outsize rear
which cause for observers
to guffaw and sneer
whereby my trademark suit
will seemingly tear
and reveal that this clown
wears frilly under wear
prompting me to avoid
accepting this role for next year.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
I've never asked how you felt
About being watched
Some of us humans will
Travel great distances
Just to catch a glimpse
How do you feel about this?
Is it a bother, perhaps
That a clunky, binocular-toting creature
Is trundling ungracefully through your home?
Your domestic life
Needs no prying eyes
Or could it be an honor?
You merely inherited
The feathers, the songs
And you're loved for it
Perhaps you are indifferent?
You pay them no heed,
Since they do not pose a threat
To your food or family
While they stand around and stare vacantly
Maybe it depends
If you were a sparrow happily whistling,
Or a bunting bachelor finding a suitor,
Or a warbler that had a REALLY bad day
Since her baby turned out to be a cowbird?
Or a goose whose patience runs thin
As the screaming human-chicks keep chasing it?
If you could take up a pen,
Or a quill, since you have many,
I would love for you
To get back to me
So at least I could respect your wishes
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
i make my approach,
mimicking plaintive movements
of the colossus
cloud structures migrating
across serene vastness.
-----their blue plains
-----are my green plains;
-----their source
-----is my source.
i see a silhouette
wandering on far off hill:
i wonder...
the crows leave no trace in the air.
their cawing has caught my heart
like a hook would a fish.
the unrelenting wind at my back
will not have me turn back:
i am promised to the forest.
at the edge of the trees
is a grave, modestly
marked by a small wooden cross:
perhaps it is my grave.
i enter ungracefully
into a forgotten kingdom of grace
ravaged.
the earth, so full of life,
is carpeted with death:
brown leaves crunch beneath my boots.
the webs of ivy i traverse make me feel unwelcome.
elsewhere, on trees fallen
and others not yet so,
merciless ivy and giant vines constricting.
elsewhere, the singing of birds unseen
in beauty.
the whispers of trees are
earth shattering, soul cleaving:
freeing me from my confines concrete.
everything that does not seem still
trembles—
do i seem still?
the trunks of trees are robust like my being;
i look up, their high reaches sway playfully,
gently,
as sun rays gain entry also
and remind me of my duties
which i am gift to.
it's true, my dear Emerson:
perpetual youth is found in the woods,
but we mustn't tarry too long.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
My dear when I tell you,
"I'm a late bloomer."
I need you to know, that I meant to say is,
"I have lost my petals and my stem is bare."
Own ****** hands, The only criminal is I,
I have taken shears and torn ungracefully.
There the petals lay underneath.
A gentle breeze then came by and swept them away,
Never to reach my clutches again.
My dear I made myself bloom far to early,
Letting the petals of myself vanish.
Leaving me astray within my own vessel.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
As our car slides
ungracefully to the beat of
the music, we ponder
about the theory
of the universe only to discover
we are a troubled, modern group of
society's psychotic teenagers.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
every love song that sounds,
every wedding bell that rings,
every break up,
every tear.
brings us all back.
we sit in silence at dinner,
for i accidentally reminded us all seconds ago with a single word.
she smiles, putting on that face,
for that little boy seated across from me.
we look at him hopefully,
"i gotta ***
he says,
ungracefully breaking the delicate silence.
he leaves us biting our cheeks,
smiling small,
thinking big.
it's right here,
growing stale once again,
filling up the air.
causing us to inhale the secrets,
we've tried to let go of.
they're clogging up our systems,
drowning us in ourselves,
once again...
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC
You speak words of her admiration,
How ungracefully you fall.
My heart flattens from your deflation,
So gracefully I rebuild my wall
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 8:13 AM UTC
Sleeves of an army green jacket rolled to expose excitement. A predetermined embrace encloses around shoulders, politeness exchanged with anxious adrenaline. Pools of color collide and ungracefully splash the sidewalk. Thresholds crossed to beginnings
met by intertwining smiles. The air smells deeply roasted, exhaled as yellow stools become wrapped in conversation; all taboos acknowledged bare resemblance. Forgotten, a “Thank You” hangs out to dry. Time allotted permits brisk rambling through the hour.
Sleeves of stressed denim rolled to expose inklings. Uninhibited, honesty undresses the night’s private faculties. Every last minute filled with sound, devoured, begging no respite. Deliberately, the question must be borrowed. Chance unravels the enigma of
possibilities. Irradiating uncertainty escapes the green emeralds facing eagerness; remanded by signs of relief. Stubble is clutched diligently with five occasions, but only soft, warmth resonates. Radiation permeates the sum, encompassing fleeting eternity.
Sleeves of illustrious silver rolled around to expose shyness. First time intensity subdues any exaggerated significance. By familiar melody sweetness dances, tasted by those listening. Fascination entices conscious dreaming for scarce minutes, stolen.
Laughter called upon repetition. The other side expressed desire to not be resigned. A latch clicks, reminding of punctuality long lost. Captivated moments craved no more entertaining conclusions. Turning, a smile reveals a brief twinkle saying, “Good Night.”
Lateness found itself worthy of the answer.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 6:59 AM UTC