Best Odd Man Out Poems
In the childhood home her mother spins her child
Round and round we go happiness seems to overflow
And the childhood goes by; faster, faster
A growing child with so much energy running and having fun
Careless and free he runs across the yard
He is growing up; faster, faster
Only in middle school and already a rebel
Sticking up for a friend and getting in a fight
He has courage but still he runs; faster, faster
High school has come at last
The odd man out he cries for attention
Into depression he spirals; faster, faster
At the high school prom he meets a girl
The hearts beet together and the music beats in their ears
They are falling madly in love; faster, faster
Barely a year and a kid on the way
To work and back the same routine, every hour, every day
A wedding is coming closer; faster, faster
So far a happy life, and a good career
They buy a home and outside he spins his child
Another childhood is going by; faster, faster
His life was long another one has started from it
But now the ambulance move; faster, faster
And his heartbeat fails; slower, slower
When I met Maizie, she was about eight years old. We were living in Kentucky and my wife's mother and brother lived near us. Her mom was a widow and suffered from some physical problems that restricted her to her home. Her son was an unemployed n'er do well who spent a lot of time drinking and living off of his mothers income. He had been married several times, none of which lasted.
It was a pleasant summer day when my mother in law called and said that her sons first wife had showed up to visit, along with her current husband and their daughter, Maizie. Since we normally were over to her house several times a week to clean and shop, we soon met all of them. It turns out that the husband was “between jobs” and it soon became apparent that they were there for whatever they could get, and quickly settled in. Her mother accepted everyone at face value and couldn't see that she was being used.
We kept a close eye on the situation, stopping by more often to see what was going on. It was during these visits that I noticed that Maizie was odd man out. She was a very affectionate child, but was usually ignored and or yelled at by her mom. She would frequently sit quietly on the periphery, swinging her feet and observing. I felt sorry for her and started to pay her some attention. We would talk, and laugh, and take short walks around the apartment project. Sometimes, when I would go shopping, I would take her with me.
One day we found out that they were going to move on. When we went over, Maizie seemed despondent. I asked if she would like to take one last walk and she eagerly agreed. While on our walk, Daisy suddenly blurted “would you like to be my daddy”?
I was at a loss for words, but finally said “Maizie, you have a father”.
“I know” she said. “But I want a daddy”.
That's the last time I saw Maizie. Today she would be a woman in her twenties and I can only hope she found the love she so richly deserved.
This morning as I woke up,
smiling at a new day,
thinking I’m a day older,
I looked forward to another birthday,
but my mind quailed at the aftertaste
before I shared my joy
with friends and kindred:
another day had been taken away,
and my dying day advances!
Out of my window I looked
to find out the cause of the noise therefrom—
Mr. Somebody had bought two more cars:
one for himself; the other, his wife.
And delighted they were,
for now they had six cars altogether!
I shivered at the irony:
their earthly stock had reduced by two!
After my bath,
I made for the living-room.
The sights were eye-friendly: assorted gifts!
Everyone gazed interestedly at my exclusive outfit.
‘’An angel has descended Heaven!’’ they exclaimed.
An ounce of disappointment overtook my face.
All these lots had been withdrawn
from the deposit of my life wealth!
There came the merry-making,
but only I did not have fun.
‘’Are you the odd man out?’’ they asked.
But life as a paradox:
it grows every new day,
and dies every yesterday.
It is an ending game,
awaiting the stoppage time.
He's this, he's that,this is what he should be like
He shouldn't have that many tattoos, he shouldn't dress like that
He's clearly a wannabe gangsta because he listens to Hip-Hop and Rap
I'm just me, and I hate being categorized
Sicker than your average, don't worry, its no biggie, but you're about to get hyptonized
My mind is complex, but i know the world want my words Simplified
Always got told I should follow trends and get the latest haircuts
I don't follow the latest trends, sorry I don't care enough
I don't dress to fit in, I'd much rather stand out
So you can ridicule me, but I'd rather be the odd man out
You place me as a wannabe gangsta because I wear hoodies and listen to Hip-Hop
But when have you heard me go on about selling drugs and getting people shot?
That's right you Haven't, because I don't pretend to be something I'm not
I'm a mixture of everything I love, and no I'm not lost
I'm comfortable in my own skin sorry if that scares you
So I'm going to be me, and when you talk I won't hear you
You look at my tattoos and try to label me
You can take your shots but you won't disable me
Because I wear Pink some of you want to call me gay
You must be homophobic,a phobia is something you're scared of, So that's the wrong word to say
I've dated numerous girls so I get called a playa and I deserved it when I got my heart broke
I can understand that, But we all have different ways to cope
Oh he must be a hooligan because he loves football
Go ahead and call me what you like, I'm done caring at all
He's this, he's that,this is what he should be like
He shouldn't have that many tattoos, he shouldn't dress like that
He's clearly a wannabe gangsta because he listens to Hip-Hop and Rap
I'm just me, and I hate being categorized
Well behaved women rarely make history, he said.
I wondered who had hit this guy bam in the head.
This is something women say, but we rarely hear it from a man.
I am an artist and a poet, he explained as only a creative being can.
So, you are urging women to live their truth, to dance and sing?
I urge them to jump around, whirl, twirl, and let their ideas fling.
I was more impressed with each word this guy utilized that day.
Glad to finally find out that he had daughters, all born in the month of May.
Gemini loves playing. She likes being the odd man out.
Gemini wants to toot a horn, to let her words out in a shout.
Gemini is not socialized and never wants to ever be.
Are your daughters Gemini? I asked. Don’t know, he said. Beats me!
Once, a lonely number three
sat forlornly on my knee.
In his eyes, I saw despair
as he was sitting there.
"You needn't sniffle, cry or pout.
I too have been the odd man out."
Splendor in spin cycle...
No one escapes the circle;
For an odd man out...
Rarely finds a way back in;
Life seems as though a blur,
When the circle’s in spin...
Render to the line...
That few have crossed;
A step ahead,
Leaves you left behind;
For we are all free here,
Found in what we find.
Sender with no return:
I sit abandoned;
The circle moves on...
As we lose touch...
Its lines have faded,
And with them our crutch.
Surrender to solitude,
There’s no turning back...
For we’ve found ourselves here,
In the front from behind.
There’s freedom in the rearview...
And thus an open mind.
For you see abandoned is found;
Where the circle is formed...
A world of one,
Taking until it drapes;
Soon a victim to your own borders...
Caught up in a circle, which no one escapes.
Stark realization, I harbor sacrilegious objection...
Against merry christmas premature blowout,
(or otherwise) ejaculation galore burnout,
hence I feel like the odd man out
neither yours truly, nor the missus
spends money and/or
time at checkout
avoid madding crowds like the plague
elbowing, hustling, jostling,
pushing, racing, shoving...
seconds before blue
light special closeout,
though neither of us
reformed practicing Jews, nor devout
mass consumerism capitalistic fallout,
we steer clear taking refuge within
our underground (arched)
all in the family bunker hideout
remain hermetically sealed
courtesy NASA tested grout
hunkering inside spatially
roomy subterranean getaway
created viz 3d printing
immediately after rollout
ready to take nesty plunge
steeply, perpendicularly, giddily... south
to go down rabbit hole,
where we carouse, cavort,
thermally heated cavernous redoubt
reaping efforts after donning
(MAGA) hardhats constructing roustabout,
whereby protruding innocuous periscope
allows, enables, and provides
mean ways to scout,
since Marshall Mathers Law
declared, mandated trumpeted
courtesy special ops stakeout
regarding our subversive
passive actions hashtagged illegal
if perchance discovered vis a vis,
we Americans express timeout
before changing role as seekers
playing wargames no matter
suddenly Nor'easter creates whiteout
futile search until spring thaw
melting snow exhumes
mister and missus Santa Claus
thank you climate change
regarding attributed drought.
There's this nasty lady living right
by ours
A cranky old mare holed up next to our house
Her garden is minging and her blinds
are a lot worse
She acts dead weird, I reckon she's proper mental
Her knees are knobby and her walk is
a bit wonky
The foreign woman next door has no right to be here
She doesn't fit in so she stays out of sight
She has no mates, always mutters to herself
We want her out, she's not one of us
Let's egg her house for a laugh and scare the pants off her
So they pelted my door with rotten eggs then posted dog poo through the mail slot
While I remained quiet as a dormouse
and prayed they would just let me be
The natives glozed over their mean deeds
And claimed they meant no offense
My hands were tied, what with being odd man out
So I chose to feign indifference, and passed the baton to the Gods of karma
While I laid back to feast on a larger slice
Of this local brand of hospitality
Tired, worn out and sapped
The lonely man waiting for the day to end
The night is better, kind and comforting
Sleep swallows all
The life is good and bad
Changing colors like a chameleon
At times, one fails to reconcile
Becoming the odd man out
No other option except to live
Happy or sad, in the harmony
All are in the same boat
Only the responses vary
Move, move and move
You cannot sleep forever
The waves are not silent
They will wash you away
The dilemma lies in being
You are a part of the crowd
Sharing traits of collective souls
You have to behave like others
The body and mind is yours
Surroundings are not created by you.
You get fixed into them
Becoming a part of the same
Some people talk about me, they think I'm a little strange,
But I hope they don't get stuck thinking I'll never change,
I don't preach, judge or try to sell you lies,
I'm just being myself with a curious why?
Knowing that politics, religion and morals may not always agree,
For some people can be stubborn, prideful and see just what they want to see,
Some may not understand you or know where your coming from,
Don't be discouraged or odd man out, continue your path and give it a good run,
We're not born with a instruction manual with life explained,
Although some may think because of their lineage or money makes it easier to obtain,
What we want out of life or what we choose to leave behind,
For myself it begins with truth, heart and peace of mind,
I could be wrong after all it's just my point of view,
But I hope you can accept me for me, as I accept you for you!
Odd man out
He cuts a lonely figure
Only he isn’t.
Avoided learning the language where he lives
To avoid tittle-tattle.
He is a failed poet too.
Rancorous and silent
But does smile and say thank you a thousand times
As is the norm in this country.
He wishes he could eat as much as he wanted to
But is constricted by diabetes
And a wonky heart.
He is often cranky.
Waits to set sail to the Saragossa island
He sends poems to a publisher, who answer but want money
He has published a few books
Which makes him feel like a fraud
His last wish is to be accepted by someone who will publish him
Not telling him he is terrific than asking for cash.
He finds facebook too nice
Likes the twitter where the truth is often spoken
And no one reads his work.
stay off the ground
and live in lost beautiful sound
up in the clouds above
waiting and watching hummingbirds and doves
fairy tales roaming through my mind
stories like no other kind
can't see the forest for the trees
can't see what's in front of me because of this disease
but somehow I press on
and live everyday once upon
lost in my own head
rather live there than earth instead
meandering through my thoughts
some of which I've already forgot
because they go so fast
and somehow I can recall parts of the past
and it pains me
and I wish to be free
so I try to stay off the ground
and let grace abound
the odd man out
pacing about
the only time I dream is during the day
for that is the only way
to dream a dream
rather than to scream a scream
and look up high
into the azure sky
into the fiery sun
until the day is done
and do it over and over again
breathe; begin
morning calls after the howling of moonlight's end
Puppeteer was what some say of this style.
Yet, what's wrong if it's my style for a while?
Crocs for cracks; some say with sure mockery,
Can mockery knock modern hosiery?
Some wear fur-lined like squirrels protruding,
When gardening, other squirrels squeaking...
Under tens wear. Their moms go hysteric,
Red, green, yellow - fashions very mystique...
Some wear with wet socks and walk on a beach,
Some in jeans torn crocs worn out new style teach...
Some, when wearing these, wear Buddha silence,
That none dare to tease them or make comments.
Some walk carefree in these as though saying,
It's my comfort. You needn't keep worrying.
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Crocs on, I'd been to a village rural,
The glance rustics threw on me was cruel.
So, a modern monkey - they might have thought,
Laughed, giggled dumping all my smiles to naught...
When the crocs got wet and started quacking,
Ducks inside they said; acted as catching...
I wore socks and they got wet and muddy,
They compared me to a joker buddy...
No one there wore slippers leave alone shoes,
The odd man out - subtly increased my woes.
I gave explanations to convince them,
None convinced. I was in the hem of shame.
When I removed and got set them aside,
A dog pissed on them and damaged my pride.
I came home thinking to teach them later,
With improved facts to convince them better.
I entered the village, my black shoes on,
‘Here's the joker’, they said, ‘turtle shell on’.
12 June 2021
fuzzy socks and crocs Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts
Me, the odd man out. I feel like the seed that never did sprout. Trying to figure out
why life is this way, the fear of not knowing growing by the days. So as I lay, half
sleep falling into a trance, I think, what is the chance of me defeating my past. At
last, I rise to my feet still being drownded in sin, a state of gloom takes its
position; I cannot win. People seem to be taller or I'm getting smaller per sin I
commit, I'm in deep water. Everybody's watching for me to grow, but I die silently
as water covers my nose. So as the last glance of the world fades, I pray to God
my soul to take.