Best Clumsiness Poems
My shoes have traveled miles of roads
Their soles are worn quite thin
Struggling with this heavy load
I carry deep within
Beyond repair, no longer shine
Scuffed with many stains
It's mostly been an uphill climb
Some sunny days, some rain
A little big when they were new
With ample room to grow
This green stain here on my left shoe
Was puberty's first blow
Those salt stains there, that's sweat and tears
Still damp from being heartbroken
They've darkened some throughout the years
Old wounds that were reopened
There are no stains from happy tears
I finally understood
Obviously they disappeared
Right after parenthood
All these scuff marks 'long the sides
Well they're from clumsiness
From times I fell and hurt my pride
A reminding subsequence
They've danced and skated, loved and dated
Walked a few high wires
Death devastated, been mismated
Even walked through hell's hot fires
It's said that one can tell a lot
By looking at one's shoes
Until you've worn these shoes I've got
You really have no clue
an original poem by Daniel Turner
NOT FOR CONTEST
I’ve picked it up a hundred times
yet dropped it just once more
So I give up, the blasted thing
can lay there on the floor
And stepping out onto the porch
I hit the ice and slipped
As I walked back into the house
I stubbed my toe and tripped
While dancing round in pain
I then collided with a table
For when it comes to graceful moves
I’m really quite unstable
Perhaps there is a simple way
to turn this all around
My clumsiness could work for me
each time I hit the ground
I could be a klutz for hire
stumbling for cash
I’ll charge my clients by the slip
the flip, the flop, the bash
If you need something dropped and broken
clearly I’m your man
If anyone can smash your stuff
this klutz for hire can
Perhaps you have a wall or door
that needs a good hard thump
Just be aware my going rate
is seven bucks per lump
I could knock your sister down
or trip into your aunt
Or I can make a great big mess
and kick your potted plant
And if your pets are underfoot
and adding to the drama
I’ll have to charge you extra
if I suffer blunt force trauma
There’s nothing quite as comical
and what a sight to see
as goldfish bouncing on the floor
It is my specialty
And when I fall I scream out loud
to add to the effect
I’ll see you get your money’s worth
when your whole house is wrecked
So call my number any time
My estimates are free
It’s 1-800-S T U-
M B L and E
© Mike Wise
1/30/19
DECLARATIONS OF A SOCIAL SCIENTIST
Indeed, I am that Poet and know it.
Just in transition to a more enriched poetry form.
I want to talk about life, politics, and religion.
Maybe not simultaneously, but how I am feeling today.
I tell you life isn't a bowl of cherries.
I am not harvesting berries.
I live a vivacious existence.
I nature walk and take beautiful pictures.
I thrive in my leisure time.
Even more so, I work until my mind unwinds.
I am just a thrill seeker but not an extremist.
I am an illustration of well-being.
In fact, I am striving for better physical dexterity.
In all, my body desires more agility.
To eradicate the clumsiness,
My ability to monitor my own quickness is propensity depleted.
My mind, body, and spirit have superseded.
Oh, I am told that it is all right to be big headed.
Of course, gloating is good for your inner being.
Dwindling is not something I will let occur.
I am the booster of morale.
Be assured that I am there for others who seek a physiological mental form.
Do I appear to be titivated?
I am what I have stated.
Doubtlessly, there will be jealousy.
Without doubt, they will envy me.
Undoubtedly, this will not hinder.
I have overcome obstacles since the being of my existence.
Liberated from birth via a nation of government, I am free.
I can wave my hand and be seen.
I can stand up for what is right.
I can ignite the political fire.
I can educate my mind to genius.
I can defeat enmity.
Negativity may come but I disallow it to be a formula.
I am abreast.
|_____________________________________|
Penned on October 31, 2014!
A dark room with a small wooden desk, no lamp
A thick pad of paper and a typewriter, never used
Like a museum exhibit, though they aren’t allowed to gather dust
And dead flies and moths, a pack of playing cards
I never learnt to play, but still they’ve turned yellow with age
The shelves full of books, thumbed and read a million times
The pages fall out sometimes onto the slanted shelf, broken
The cascade of over-used books falling into each other
A literary car crash
The carpet burnt by years of clumsiness, dark and worn
The ceiling stained by years of nicotine, the cigarette smoker
Looking on at a world frozen, the books are the only living things
Read a million times and thumbed to death, the dirty pages blending into each other
The faces and the timeless, frozen authors and poets, trapped here forever
In the corner, a lonely television set, never used and not even plugged in
The lonesome keyboard, beaten a million times, my voice recorded
The German tongue, screamed above piano murder, the manslaughter of my violin
A cultural car crash
The curtains, white to ivory to ashen, unopened in an age
Time to let the world come in through the never-before-seen window
I sit upon the bed and watch the silhouettes gather, their vagabond army
Creeping over everything with their tired and dirty little hands
The books I’ve read to death, the literary suicide, gathering in a spot of light
Like flocking birds fleeing for the winter, their matted feathers and scabbed legs
They can’t fly anywhere, trapped here, my favourite victims, dead within the covers,
Like broken pigeons trapped within damning cages. I close the door and leave
The untouched car crash
Well Plastered
Sippy
Hippy
Upon Stumbling into the Barber’s
Snippy
Hippie
Flower Child Wets Himself
Drippy
Hippie
Peace, Love & Clumsiness
Slippy
Hippie
The Cheeky Free Sprit
Lippy
Hippie
Written June 7, 2015
First his long and tender gaze. Then came his loving caresses
followed by little kisses, delicate dewdrops of sensuous sweetness
that he planted gently along my forehead, my cheeks,
the back of my neck, and around my ear lobes.
Happiness consumed me!
Butterfly kisses he showed me
with the long lashes of his beautiful dark eyes
fluttering like tiny wings against my own.
I giggled next as he rubbed his nose to mine;
The Eskimo way, he said.
As he stroked my back, his fingers lingered at my waist.
Unlike others before him, he did not grab for my body
with the clumsiness of a boy.
He let his smooth kisses linger too
so when at last I felt his tongue inside my mouth,
it was the sweetest of invasions. . . . .
Neither did he press for more than I was prepared to give,
for I was a woman-child, still clinging to chasteness,
and though I’d known him but a short time,
this magical moment was to be our one night together
before he returned to a country where I would never go.
Our brief time would become the fondest of my memories -
one to be rekindled time and time again through poetry.
Written 11/23/13 by Andrea Dietrich
for nette onclaud's contest: the BRIEF, UNFORGETTABLE MOMENT Poetry Contest
(this is honestly a new poem but I've written of this
moment so many times, it looks like all those other poems!!)
One year I got a shirt with my initials on the pocket,
My grandma wanted me to have it instead of a Saturn rocket.
Even though what I really wanted was the model of the Apollo ship,
My dad had made it clear to me that I shouldn’t give her any lip.
And so I had to put it on and wear it for the rest of the day,
A ten year old in his oxford cloth with MAL on display.
“Don’t you look grown up?” Gram said with a smiling face,
My brothers all laughed at me as my head hung in disgrace.
When I sat down to Christmas dinner I saw salvation from remorse,
Cranberry sauce and the law of gravity that I knew would be enforced.
“I think that I’d like this sauce I’ll just put some on my plate,”
Ooops, it slipped it seems that clumsiness was my fate.
I excused myself to get up to go and change my shirt,
I wiped a tear from my eye so grandma wouldn’t feel too hurt.
It seemed that I had pulled it off even though the caper was adlib,
Until my mom wrapped me in a towel and I now wore a bib.
“I don’t want to see this shirt get spoiled before the dinner’s done,”
She pushed my chair up tight to the table for fear that I might run.
Which is what I would have done if it hadn’t been for my granddad,
As he wrapped up in a towel and said, “I don’t think that looks half bad.”
Then he threw an olive at my towel and said, “Now you’ve got a shield,”
Then he threw one and I caught it in my mouth like I was in center field.
I looked around the table and hit him with a piece of turkey meat,
That he proudly wore upon his towel as we all continued to eat.
Never again did I ever wear the shirt with my initials on the pocket,
And next month for my birthday my Grandpa got me a Saturn Rocket.
Sometimes I wonder just what kind of a grandpa will I be,
And I really hope that I get a grandkid who’ll throw his food at me.
How many times
Did you make me laugh?
I lost count over the years
Your soppy sweet smile
The clumsiness you exude
The funny guy
That's what you are
How many times
Did you make me smile?
Cheered me up on sad days
Endless cuddles
There for me always
The caring guy
That's what you are
How many times
Did you make me cry?
Only ever with happiness of course
You make me proud
Every single day
The clever guy
That's what you are
How many times
Have I told you I love you?
Not just idle words to us
I loved you then
I love you now
The loved guy
That's what you are
How many times
Have we kissed goodnight?
And with the passion we still possess
Stronger together we are
Side by side
My guy, my everything
That's what you are....
Shards of glass scatter,
reflecting light explodes,
attention catches quickly,
clumsiness exposed!
My God is shy and generous
He knows the secret of tenderness
Just like my mother
He loves me in strange, unpredictable ways
Just like my father
I gave him my sister`s clumsiness and sincerity
My brother`s loud laugh,
My grandmother`s dark, wise eyes
He walks slowly like my grandfather
He resembles my family that
Enlightened the paths of my childhood
He sings our favorite songs,
Dazzling the universe with their beauty
He listens to me and talks to me
Sometimes I interrupt him
But he doesn`t mind
This God is powerful and confused
This God is weird, quiet and kind
When I approach him, I am filled up
With love of life
Although I know that
The sadness will return again
The childish silliness
The sweet clumsiness
The burning storm
On your head
My everyday trial of patience.
You piss me off
All the time
All the time
You make me smile
I want to kill you
With squeezing hug
Whenever you cry
My soul tears apart.
One smile of yours -
The sun shines again
Even if it rains outside.
Sight of you
Weakens me
I lose my cruelty
My hunger for revenge:
My violent arms soften
My veins loose;
You need me
as much as
Vital you are
to my wild heart
not to burst hatred.
You teach me
patience and tenderness,
Sometimes I hate you
I love you always
Though not in love am I.
I shall be yours
till the end of time
To make you happy
- a new goal in life:
Whatever your wish from me
Will happen
Always and ever
Forever to you
I am devoted
My dear friend,
No easier words
would paraphrase
the essential emphasis
of what I feel
but
'I love thee' -
Every single day.
How can it be so easy to forget?
At the same time remembering it.
So little joy and so much pain,
Why does it have to be this way?
The bad makes us stronger thru times that are tough,
But sometimes that’s just never enough.
Why cant I recall, the better memories of them all?
I try to remember but I just hit a brick wall.
I want to remember everything,
You, my past, and all in between.
In a way it pains me to not even know,
My own life as it comes and goes.
Even by writing it, I still cant remember,
Though I read it again, some odd years later.
How did I stumble upon this memory loss?
Was it clumsiness, or did my head just fall off?
The bad makes us stronger thru times that are tough,
But sometimes that’s just never enough.
She calls you up and speaks your name
you change your plans like that
Now you'll never get through
what you started to do
Intentions all squashed flat
She walks in from the bus stop
her feet are soaking wet
In fuzzy slippers, flowered shawl
and burgundy fish nets
Her braided hair is frizzy now
done up black and red
She takes your hand and kisses you
as she pulls you towards the bed
She spills her chocolate milkshake
with a fling of her free arm
Her clumsiness just makes her mad
but it’s all part of her charm
She flits happily about you
like a dainty butterfly
And views the world in wonderment
forever asking why
There’s a playful charm about her
that helps set her apart
She's a beautiful distraction
who's out to win your heart
FOR NATALIE written about my youngest son's girlfriend
'Twas the 5th day of June,
'Twasn't even noon,
Waiting for that halt of time,
You were late but it was fine,
I smiled as I hand you cupcake,
Clumsiness, it was my mistake,
You shook your head, "it's okay"
Held my hand, "we must not delay"
Inside the sanctuary we knelt,
Bliss and gratitude I felt.
You made your time to see me,
Am I that lucky?
You smirk and caught my gaze,
Damn that smile, seized me amazed.
'Twas my last year's tale,
Today's celebration we have to bail.
I may not be near,
There's these things I must make clear,
About your age, you whine.
When I'm all pleased you're still mine.
Wrinkles may grow on you,
But darling for me your beauty remains new.
I'm so in to you,why still doubt?
When I love you inside and out.
I called you pretty girl the other day,
and you,
pretending to be pissed off
asked,
was that what any man might say,
to any Miss he might have kissed.
Perhaps I lack a little gravitas
and could, just as a lover's prank,
rhyme "mass of natural gas" with "your cute ass."
You'd think me crass.
But,
might you forgive my clumsiness
to thank me should I write,
that life,
with all its tragedy and farce,
is gentler
for a glimpse of your sweet ****.