Long Misfit Poems
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One night each week, we courting couples meet
to share our poetry and chat a while.
This time we’ll all enjoy a special treat.
Romantic sonnets sure to make us smile
and swoon will be recited in grand style.
Though not part of the beatnik “misfit” crowd,
we’re nonconformists--in just one respect.
Our venue is a grassy field! We’re proud
to have this spot that many would reject,
this place where kindred spirits can connect.
March 12, 2020
Contest Title: Back When Poetry Contest one of two that placed 1st
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
April 4, 2020, entered in Brian Strand's contest
My Life
Written: by Tom Wright
February 2015
The life I’ve had has been spacious,
And having lived it, I decline to be a carper.
I’m from detached family who seldom relates
But does that mean we don’t care?
I’ve endured the heat, and winters cold,
I’ve felt life’s pleasures, and often, its pain.
For the earlier part I floundered in confusion,
A spirit active, but to a misfit tune;
I staggered blindly, as if with sleep filled eyes,
And my life, was a canvas stained by untruth,
Until Jesus, touched my adolescent heart;
And God’s spirit moved across my years.
God purged me of all previous vexations,
Showing me, that beyond my dull and ordinary,
Picturesque dreams lay beyond this life.
No longer we’re my dues for life delinquent,
Jesus had paid them at the cross.
When I leave this world
It won’t be silently
NO, I will leave behind a note
A note of reproach
For the sin of humanity
In the inability to feel with…to feel for
To truly love
Another human being
Who has the curse of being….
Different
When I leave this world
My words I’ll behind
To a world that was unkind
To a world that only loved
Cookie cutter shapes and sizes
A world with a status quo
That couldn’t be tampered with
A world that embraced
The lovely
The beautiful
The happy….oh the happy
Those with perpetual smiles
With lilting voices of angels
And with beauty of the ages
Those worthy of love
Serene angelic doves
Who never felt despair
But were always bright and fair
When I leave this world
I will leave behind
A legacy for those
Who were unloved
Who didn’t have sound minds
Who struggled along the way
Who tried to be beautiful
Who tried to smile
Through ripped and aching hearts
Who tried to stay afloat
When others would just gloat
Those who tried to be brave
But longed for the grave
To those I will say
“You are beautiful
You are worthy
You are precious
You are priceless
Your mind though tormented
Is full of beautiful treasure
Don’t blame yourself
For not being able to fit
In this selfish and crazy world
You are not a misfit
The world is unable
To make itself fit
To the dazzling beauty of you
So, just do what it takes
Just do what it takes
To get through the pain
To get to tomorrow
Maybe, maybe
You’ll hear my voice
Whisper to you in the breeze
Telling you to make the world
A better place
A more caring place
Because of YOU!"
Eileen Manassian Ghali
The sky was limpid, and the sun rose splendidly.
When I urged ardent nature to pen, it did so swiftly.
Scarcely note the key themes that interest you.
Every ultimate bit of it, except for alive human outdo.
Nature said this with a whimsical smile on her face.
Something is I've tossed gently on the glossy surface.
I carefully cleared a major, fruitless stretch of land.
To heave you up and grasp you a tarnished hand.
"We embrace it as an image of regard," she said.
Otherwise, flawlessly talk about ideas and spread.
Some stamp their eager feet, while others shudder.
The rhythm serves a fantastic selection and splutter.
Gracious, devoted mother!" "What has you so angry?"
However, you will shape a verse, not bow and rusty.
You'll soon observe a stylish and vibrant atmosphere.
Nobody to hurt or convey, that's blood blasphemer.
Mother, I'm sorry for the errors we've bombed.
And I'm very sure it won't get a standing to applaud.
We sincerely apologize for damaging your outfit.
I joyfully promise we won't make the same misfit.
Please, dear child, set down your passionate weeping.
All this old lady need obtain gentle care and loving.
We all commit errors, but we must learn from them.
That's why you're my finest triumph! In this realm.
Written: November 20, 2021
Poem- Salt
Poet- Aditya Aneek
Reciter- Shimul Mustapha
In a book fair, theater, cafe, on the first day of Bangla calendar, around the festive Valentine day
An ordinary boy is he, if one overlooks his insinuating efforts to catch a glimpse of her attention
She, as per beauty and diva goes hand in hand to fashion and attire, fits entirely an adjective
In a flock of Butterflies, among a group of youngsters, The boy is an utter misfit, an outlier
Even though he, a lion heart, approached her one day at last, “Will we have tea together?”
With his brave proposal in, utterly astonished she pondered for a while,then surmised, “let’s go.”
Sitting with her, face to face, he had a butterfly in his stomach
With his dry mouth, he sipped his cup of tea and then, “Waiter, please salt, here.”
With astonishment in her face, she asked, “ Will you have salt in your tea?”
The boy answered, “Yes, I was born around the seashore, along the salty foamy sea waves.
Once I have a sip through the salty tea, I see my village, picturesque
And the faces of my parents, floating around with the salty foamy sea, floating far.”
Silent a soul, she, heard the boy, and then replied
"I have never been to the sea, my home lies there in the mountaintop."
There, the subtle clouds touch there in the gentle most surreal, as a feather of a bird
The mountain and the sea, closely knitted there, day by day, a story , dense in heartfelt warmth
Then a marriage, a nest, at last a duo, aged through the grace of time passed.
The old man, before dying, handed the old lady a letter to request, “Open once I‘m gone.”
Once he died, the old lady, opened the letter, It had this written there
"I never could take tea with salt, ever
A startled one, I, stumbled in mumbling then , with salt, to ask sugar in stead
And then had an immediate cover up story of that type, to en wrap.
And so, had the forty years follow through with cups of tea with a pinch of salt.
The salt tea made by you is sweet."
The old lady went to her neighbors one day. They served her tea.
She asked, “ A bit of salt, please.”
Astonished, the neighbor asked, “Will you take salt in your tea?”
She replied, “Yes. The tea with salt is sweet.”
Alone and Separated
Far from a Child’s touch
Divided in much
A bus with square wheels and not round
A Passenger train with no steam engine pull
A flying Eel
A rewrite Reel
All the above are Misfit toys
Needing the joy from every Girl and Boy
They are stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere
It’s up to Santa to bring the care
The Misfit Toys have nowhere to go
A change needs to be a flow
Misfit Toys cry out to the world they deserve a home
A place where a Child and Misfits can roam
Misfit toys must be seen from a different angle
It’s up to the child
Being enjoyment while
Misfit Toys for Christmas and any season
Imagine, a Misfit Toy hand held by a loving child
That is the true meaning of giving.
Once there was dingo, rabidly mad as he could be
who thought he was a Bruce of a man by how he spoke
But no man would call him their 'mate,' for you see...
he was a mongrel dog who pretended to be a bloke
The dingo who called himself 'Keefer,' was all talk-no bite
got caught chasing a galah (chicken) for want of a feast.
But ol' Keef got clawed by the rooster night after night
He was a drongo (fool) who thought he was a beast.
"Crikey!" I heard real men screaming from inside a bar
when they laughed at Keef wearing daks (male trousers)
He tucked his tail and ran from feathering with hot tar
"Get out, ya Hoon (hooligan)! We scorn rabble-rousers!
Keef was a loud mouth when he was blotto (inebriated)
Downing snag (sausages) and guzzling frothy (beer).
Tried to mate with a sheila (girl) but he'd been castrated.
Fair dinkum (that's true). He was neutered last year.
Some say he likes wearing female clothes, they swear.
He's such a hostile dingo, telling them to 'Rack OFF!'
But there's pictures of him in knickers (ladie's underwear).
and some of him before his little stub was sawed off.
I guess sometimes he gets to feeling clucky (maternal)
cuz he uses phrases like 'mother this and mother that.'
Looks like he'll end up some place heated and infernal
Dingo Keef's punishment for hurling all those brickbats.
A rabid dingo, that fool proved to be a fizzer (fizzled out)
His rants and threats to beat guys up were just a joke,
who was well-known as a bogan (hick) and a social lout
who accepted the truth. Ol' Keefer is now socially 'woke.'
Last I heard of him, he'd taken up with a mate called, Roo.
Another misfit creature roaming around in the outback
He played for hours each night, blowing into his digeridoo
because he couldn't stand Keef's braggin' and talkin' smack.
Roo felt relieved when the dingo, kinky Keefer disappeared
The one who'd been called 'the blunder from down under.
He'd mumbled for days about Milton Creek and Roo feared
that dingbat dingo would try to tear that town asunder.
“Some of us are like ink and some like paper. And if it were not for the blackness of some of us, some of us would be dumb; And if it were not for the whiteness of some of us, some of us would be blind.”
Khalil Gibran
Am I lost in a secret world of uncharted distant shores,
riddling once more in the confusion of Morse code.
Separation resembles the mourn of a black rose
in perpetual pain perspectives of a shackled heart -
with repetitive echoes of empty sentiments.
Street lights are no guide in nights that never die,
where the painted sky is blacker than black.
As carved feathers from wings of hope keep falling,
floating in strong winds, drowning in crimson forever rain,
composing dehydrated water locked memories.
Tormentally trapped in melancholic moments,
not wanting to exist in a world where a glimpse could kill.
I am all that you cannot see, just a blank canvas.
An unfinished poem with suppressed thirsty ink.
My armour is my silent fury brewing with thunder.
Unapologetically naked, unafraid if lightning strikes.
In this wired life, I'm fighting with myself - but surviving.
There is nothing magical in the mental joy of living,
so I have no concern for who casts the sands first,
as my quill cries your name, I am poetically yours,
a misfit misunderstood metaphor, yearning for more.
In all my life that I've existed you see,
I've never fit in anywhere, like it was meant to be.
IMA now up there in my older year's,
a misfitt that's been filled with laughter and so many tear's.
You may see me as a misfitt, a rebel, a lost cause, and that's fine I say,
cause I do tend to my own, as I make my own way.
With or without you I can go on in this world you see,
a misfitt, a rebel, an outcast, a blacksheep I be.
No matter what lable you or the world sticks to me.
Ima going to do everything that I can,
to raise me and my kind becoming a better man.
If you feel like the world has casted you out,
your a misfit, a blacksheep with outta doubt.
That's ok as long as you're making positive change's each day,
becoming the best of you in every way..
Labels are for those who believe and think only of their self it's true,
be ye humble, let it be other's that raises you.
Keep your head above the waters, your heart over the thought's of the mind,
being a misfit, a rebel, an outcast is still life you will find..
THE STONE WALL
I was loitering lone aimless in pathless wood
making way through thorny bush and wild weeds
where creeper secretes peculiar fluids.
Feral flowers flowing fine fragrance fresh.
Stunned to discover a stone wall covered in moss
and climber coiled getting wall as strong support.
An awkward structure, mismatched in verdant scenerio.
Surely the wall is the remains of some construction.
Might be a portion of boundary wall of a garden.
Might be a part of demolished building.
Whatever however once it stood rigid bold
watching noisy lively habitation.
Once well maintained, now in wreck and ruination
standing as sentinel in solitary wood.
Only witness of past habitats
presently adored and adorned
by moss and thorny climbers,
arousing curiosity of passer-by.
Stone wall standing shy embarrassed
finding itself misfit contrasting
rhythm and harmony of woody panorama.
10/10/20
' A Wall in The Woods ' Contest by craig cornish