Best Gawky Poems
As my weary eyes give in
I become entranced.
A day completed now
and so I give it back a glance.
Every chance I'm given,
I break it all apart
I break it all apart
I'll break this all apart.
I can be your monster or your hero
it depends upon my heart.
If I was all that smart
I would break myself apart.
We've lived so gawky from the start
and handled stones in this glass cage,
these last days are fast paced
please hurry up and wait.
Don't believe a word I tell you;
I'm a liar, just kidding.
I love dichotomies and irony
and riddles in the city.
Hey, I once escaped a mind trap
and regretted it...
because a mind trap only benefits
if you simply stay embedded in it.
So instead of salvation,
I live in a glass prison, waiting
for the walls to crack like windows
and have what I'm hiding from
come and take me.
Categories:
gawky, dark,
Form:
Rhyme
The queen of birds Sari dear lived in the mango tree
I asked her to come down and take a saree from me
She asked wide-eyed the price of it
I said,”Sari, you’re a cute tweet”
She made faces, chirruped short, and flew to the next tree.
A saree is a South Asian female garment that consists of a drape varying from five to nine yards in length and two to four feet in breadth that is typically wrapped around the waist, with one end draped over the shoulder, baring the midriff.
Sari came down and sat on the bay window
‘Dad’, she said,’ you must chain the devil Frido’
“He is a gawky brute
Just now he ate up a coot
He needs your boot and a slap on his credo”.
Sari tweeted my wife” O mom, don’t pinch my behind”
My wife re-tweeted,” Sari, You are not of this kind”.
“Sorry to say you have no proper bum
So, Sari, how can I be a pinch bum?”
Sari re-re-tweeted, “Mom, a lie, my bum is twined.”
Sari came one day with his creaky husband Suk
“Dad, teach Suk a lesson, he must know how to cook"
"Sari, my darling, you’re a sweet fraud
Don’t crook Suk’s head with a teaching rod
Better teach him how to fly by hook or by crook"
Sari, my daughter, in mid September, gave birth to a girl
She was a ball of furry delight, eyes were pacific pearl
I said, "Sari ,you are now a mother
So you must not be antsy like other
Sari hugged her child,said”dad, no worry, she will be a whirl"
Categories:
gawky, bird, dad, daughter, fun,
Form:
Limerick
Spirit of the night
Spirit of the night soil man
Spirit of the night soil man is awake
Spirit of the night soil man is abroad,
Here, the emerging mystery, more a sinister from a
dungeon,
When twilight sat on sad rooftops,
Lurking eyes, creeping limbs in the damp backyards,
To Loo looking gunt in the gloomy moonlight
Where broiling broths in chamberpots and bedpans are
emptied.
A structure of planks led upstairs
Ushering to crouch in a crouching mode,
Over hot hole on the pedestial,
Displaying buttocks lob over poe
Began the winced and windy screeching sirocco,
Screaming complaining bass and solo guitars,
Can be irksome when catch unawares
Of habitual sacrificial ritual of defecating,
On other hand, when afflicted in fora,
Go gawky limping along all the way
Any convenience found,
Unleashed mixed vortex of dark diarrhoea,
Ascendancy of curl buxom python laid,
Windy circular terra-cotta thin rope
And from top, short brief beef cake grenade drop,
After, some bruisers clean with dry cardboard
Or old newspapers that headline "Hard Times"
All add up sure riches to wealth,
Well soughted out after in heap chest.
Categories:
gawky, timenight, night,
Form:
Free verse
A parasite, attached and fed on blood,
Within the woman he began his growth
As did his hunger and defining form.
And, writhing, flailing in a cushioned sea,
He felt her warmth but could not feel her pain.
When she evicted him he screamed himself.
He found the woman ripe with mother's milk
When he, a helpless weight of hungry flesh
Could only state his need in wordless wail.
He saw the woman as his one way back
To that Edenic womb that pacifies
Without exacting anything from him.
A gawky, fumbling youth--he saw her then
As needed proof for who and what he was--
A hunted hunter, judged by what he caught.
Then, lubricated in the coupling dance
Of life and death, he trembled, numb and spent,
Unsure of anything but repetition.
He saw the woman as the looming lure,
An addict's fix, another hungry other,
Devouring worlds to justify existence.
He saw how unity, a moment given
In ecstasy of two becoming one
Could not make jealous any timeless god.
And, too, he saw her as a missing piece
Of puzzles of the image of himself,
As something joining isolated themes.
It will not do to ask where his sight failed.
He saw within the hurts of who he was.
His cruelest lies were those he needed most.
Categories:
gawky, feelings,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
A Cowboy is lean, tall, muscled and an inarticulate mass
Of loyalty, independence, pride and downright Western class
He cocks his hat to the back of his head and lets loose an infectious grin
Testosterone overflowing he’s masculine from boot toe to hat brim
He mumbles “Ah, Shucks”, ducks his head and charms the ladies
He’s saddle born, ranch raised and calls his palomino horse Hercules
A Cowboy kin drink, git drunk, cuss and dance a mean square
He kin hunt, trap, fish, and if put to it, outrun a riled–up bear
A cowboy spits, chaws, farts, smokes hand-rolled and sings off-key
He shoots, ropes, hogties, brands and whistles at cattle in high “C”
He’s an introverted soul, shy, gawky and tongue-tied in society
But ranch owners’ virgin daughters are eager to marry him
After doing hanky and panky stimulated by 100 proof killer gin
The shotguns hang on the fireplace wall, but the Cowboy ain’t gonna give in
Thinking, “mebbe It’s time to git gone and ride out like a swift blowing wind”
And into the sunset the Cowboy eases away without a backward glance
Looking for a cattle ranch that needs know-how hires and give him a chance
To punch cows, shoe horses, drive cattle and harness a gal into a new romance
Cowboys choose, lose, win, and wander here, there, and all around
Unless a right-smart gal he diddled in the stable of a small cow town
Is a hardheaded Cowgirl who hogties him when his pants are down!
Categories:
gawky, humor, , western,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Leaves have fallen down
Making colorful bed
Children hide and seek
Parents came with rake
Took the leafs away
Trees stand gawky
Bare to the bones
No leaf for dress
Not intended
Season new
Welcome change
Birdies flew
From nest
Empty
cold
Categories:
gawky, seasons
Form:
Diminished Hexaverse
His shabby house sat on my street, and he
was like that run-down house - unwashed; unkempt.
So Barklay, with his slick black hair, would be
our school yard’s crow, one pecked at with contempt.
Another on my street was also jeered.
Poor Janno, homely girl with eyes that crossed.
The birds that mocked declared that she was weird;
though smart, she had a sparrow’s wings less glossed
And vaguely I recall the taunting words
that followed Janno and the gawky crow.
And not among the flock of strutting birds,
I could conceive an inkling of their woe.
Befriending rare birds, I did it my way.
I'd walk them home, for I don't shun a stray!
June 15, 2014
Categories:
gawky, childhood,
Form:
Sonnet
(Asia may not know, this LIX city split baby boomer now ranks himself as an in denture charred sir vent reflecting on that painful instant when enamel collided with frozen water versus the recent removal of all teeth - courtesy of periodontal disease, and reckons how quaint that facial fracas).
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inxs of cold playing air
froze natural pond, where
over head Canadian geese did blare
honking the latest goose sip loud and clear
when from behind a bush
(color antler protected doe against fear
of smashed pumpkin) did peek a deer
alert to any danger by parking
upright either one or both ear
lest predator doth lurk and induce fear
while Harris Family and friends
oblivious attired in wintry gear
which protection from cold caused difficulty to hear
necessitating cupped gloved hands
to punctuate every muffled word
to be but barely heard
akin to talking with mouth full of custard
above the quiet riotous mirth
from this then gawky child nerd
precariously maintaining balance
on his skates and glide like a bird
such attempts made
this then boy appear quite absurd
ah, if only this mind of mine
did two step quick think
but woe misfortune awaited
across the bumpy natural rink
blithely jettisoning myself hither and yon
like a rolling stone going plink
unaware while in camouflage pose
disguised as one sneaky slippery fink
that snuck up in a blink
that found me squarely face down
shattering left front tooth
immediately discovered
via tongue as private sleuth
finding me in extreme agitated state forsooth
as if on fire from red hot chili peppers
wrought from jagged booth
winning sympathy from parents
who did level best to tend distraught son
who ushered playback of events
with less disastrous rerun
praying for an angel
to grant reverse outcome brought none
gut wrenching grief
immediately terminated former fun
damage irreversible and
perfect white smile forever broke con!
Categories:
gawky, 5th grade, 8th grade,
Form:
Elegy
The Reluctance of the Young Runner
by Edmund Siejka
He was a gawky teenager
On a high school track team
Intimidated by his coach
Who exercised almost total control
Over him.
He was examined
Tested
Questioned what he ate
How much he weighed
It became too much to bear
That he couldn’t tell anyone you
How lonely he felt.
Running at a track meet
Neck and neck for third place
The finish line seemed unreachable
His parents, watching from crowded bleachers,
Were proud
Impatiently calling out his name
When suddenly he fell
Tripping over some unknown thing lying on the track.
Falling, his long legs cascaded over the white lines of the track
Colliding with the front runner
Who had the looks of an actor
And the temperament of a snake.
The coach was angry
Thick fingers pummeled the young runner’s chest
Because he fell
The team was disappointed
Not so much for him
But for the lead runner
Who struggled to third place.
Facing dismissal from the team
An inner smile caressed the young boy’s heart
No more coach, no more watching
Waves of relief gently cascaded over him
Bringing with it
A sudden realization
That he would no longer
Have to hide.
Categories:
gawky, life,
Form:
Narrative
Sluggish suppurating symbol of disgust,
Dragged wailing into a reproachful life
Child of wrath and sloth and lust
All she will ever know is
Strife
Curdled flesh clings to a brittle scaffold
Pebbled orbs recline in sunken hollows
Starving slavering mouth unfolds
Engulfs the world and then it
Swallows
Gawky appendages waver against a cruel ill wind
A map of veins slides beneath brittle wrists
Starfish fingers strain to hold at bay
An onslaught of constant demoralizing
Dismay
Ugliness lies etched in every curve and line
Defiling the beauty that might have been
Ashamed and fearful of her own reflection
She skulks in soothing shadow hoping to remain
Unseen
Categories:
gawky, angst, sad
Form:
Free verse
So we’re going on a picnic with the pygmy, Pixie Poggly, being the quirky queenly
quaintly quickly person she is and her friend a raunchy rascal reverently named
Andy Bailey. As you remember he was in the Aussie army association, barely
battling the banshee that were bawdy blackly bloody in the boggy boundary briefly
in the outback, and lets not forget pixie’s perky prominent pal that is a bossy,
bluntly, brainy, bookie, breathing brashly, balmy, bits of boogie bookie chatter to
all the cheery, choicely, chunky crowd around his choosey, cheesy, cheaply
choice of chummy spots, and in his coarsely cocky way, he coyly clamors crafty
creepy words that really don’t say what they needs to say, but confuses even the
gentle, ghostly, gaudy, gawky, gabby, gypsy genie down in the gaily, gabby,
ghastly valley town called Gatsby. I hear even Fatty Fannie the fancy, fleecy,
flimsy, flowery, and foxy maiden that has her doggie, “Dotty” watching her dreamy,
dressy, downy, dowry. And to make things easier Pixie’s dumpy daffy deafly, dinky
donkey named Dixie is going to carry all the supplies, and we are going to the
daffy damply dainty little dairy where the daisies grow daily in the deeply densely
droopy grasses next to the hay, and it sounds like it will be a giddy, giggly, goodly,
goofy, goosey, grabby good grammar in all its Grammy award wining grandeur
day.
Parts of this poem were copied from another poem that I cannot display here, but
that I did write, it is called “The Picnic” and I thought this would be some fun
reading for all here.
Categories:
gawky, adventure, animals, confusion, funny,
Form:
Alliteration
In the vines by the rear door
She built her nest
Sat on her little blue green eggs
With all her mother care
Warmed by her maternal heat
Garage doors opened with a clatter
Snowbirds unloading winter stuff
Frightened, she left the eggs unattended
She gradually tolerated humans
Walking barely three feet away
Her head, beak, peeking out
Keeping a watchful eye
Then the blessed event
Four little squirrelly feather bundles
I even helped supply worms
Although she never acknowledged
This act of inter specie kindness
Gentle nudge to the nest
The babies instinctively stretched
Their scruffy scrawny necks
Upwards to be the first to lunch
Gawky youngsters
All yellow mouths and bills
Stretched wide for supper
Then they were gone!
I'm left with an empty nest syndrome.
Categories:
gawky, inspirational, love, mother, nature
Form:
Light Verse
Nonagenarian father afflicted,
his body electric awry
with congenital heart failure,
before long twill bid existence bye
whose physical well being -
corporeal essence inevitably will die
unavoidable manifest destiny...
accompanied into afterlife courtesy death
envision caricature immortal grim reaper
moost ofttimes (normally leering)
brandishing trademark scythe,
impossible mission to skirt dark shadow
creeping closer along edge of night, not shy,
eclipsing former robust native son Brooklyn
once upon time aforementioned sturdy strong guy
metamorphosed gallantly,
gangly, and gawky youth
courtesy blood, sweat and tears
conditioned into muscular trim physique
with equal fervor did apply
figurative nose to grindstone, and well nigh
academically succeeded (think flying colors)
attending City College (back then free - no lie)
deservedly acquiring mechanical engineering degree
furthering advanced studies at Columbia University
General Electric career employee
opting early retirement at age sixty
subsequently clocking thirty plus orbits around sun,
a widower past fifteen plus years, he
steadfastly remained married approximately
half century, and twas... understandably
grievously, honestly, and inconsolably sad
when terminal illness stole key
once dirt poor wife i.e. bride (never bartered)
who bore him three offspring - me
including an older and younger sister
acutely aware I (nsync with siblings)
may learn (ex post facto), our father
though art(fully) adept with smarts already told
tragically could succumb (think demise - see
above) regarding pandemic
indiscriminately claiming thee
storied Zayda as linkedin with progeny
thyself begat (deux) from yours truly,
and biological kith brought forth
their precious kin, whose limp body
born aloft without survivors
without filial piety
bequeathed as Boyce Brandon Harris'
soul into realm of dead souls eternity.
Categories:
gawky, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Elegy
The maze is
Inside.
Navigation here is like trying
To take a dump
After having too much
White rice.
You get further in
Only to pique
Frustrated
In cramps,
Un-amused.
Perhaps… after the cramps…
You find braces
A gawky smile,
Tightened pants,
A cisgender boy
Pinning your arms down.
Confusion.
You want it but you don’t.
You don’t want the label of “****.”
But you do want the experience.
He christens your lips with
saliva and old-tomato juice.
Unpleasant.
What’s more unpleasant are
His rough sausage hands.
Daggers for nails!
He tries to go in.
He fails.
“Maybe another day,” you exclaim.
Now he is but a ghost,
In the maze.
Years pass:
Minutes stretch.
Moments emanate nausea
And lack subtlety.
The second wind in the maze,
you begin to question.
Am I bi?
Am I gay?
Am I trans?
Am I neither…
Am I some…
Am I either…or?
You can’t think!
Temptations rattle
As beauties thrust themselves
In your direction
They say words
That act like Sirens.
Then,
Like sirens,
Your maze develops scars.
Scars turn to cancer.
Cancer turns to death.
A part of your maze
Is cursed.
Now you sit,
Inward.
Questioning,
Angry,
Wishing you hadn’t
said certain things.
Because those things
Have castrated your soul
Into something you wish you did not know.
“Gaslight.”
Categories:
gawky, absence, angst,
Form:
Narrative
An awkward chuckle
Escapes my lips
White knuckles
Teeth grit
I don’t poke fun
Or humiliate
I get your pun
It isn’t great
I bear the burden
Of your ego
My introversion
Takes the blow
The problem is
You’re not clever
As lame as it is
I must endeavor
Feeling abashed
And quite dumbfounded
I chose to stash
How bad you sounded
I lose the grace
I had before
To save your face
I shake my core
Asymmetrical
Gawky, inept
Your spectacle
My debt
Categories:
gawky, anxiety, social,
Form:
Rhyme