an introvert marches bumpkinly by blamable boloney misleadingly reactive
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 21–27, 2026)
He bans MSNOW, CNN and Politico
Now even FOX shouts foul! No! No! No!
For our 1st Amendment right
we shall continue to fight,
King Trump, and Hegseth, and Rubio
—R.G
I march down the block with my neighborhood
Hold signs and picket all day as we should
It’s not a toast for Trump
But a roast of a rump
True patriots defend due process—understood?
—I Am Anaya
She speaks like thunder,
bold and unafraid.
while I shrink into silence,
each word carefully weighed.
She cries,
and the world wraps around her like warmth.
I ache,
and no one sees the storm beneath my calm.
She shouts,
and they say she's brave.
I whisper,
and they say I’m cold.
She spills her heart
on every table,
bitter or sweet
and still, they listen.
Still, they stay.
But me?
I bury mine beneath tired smiles,
bite down on every angry word,
swallow every ache
until I forget what it was I wanted to say.
And when we fight-
even when I’m right-
her tears are louder than my truth.
So they choose her pain
and paint me cruel.
I envy her freedom.
Not her life,
not her laugh
just the way she lets herself feel
without apology.
While I sit in silence,
always the calm one,
always the strong one,
slowly breaking beneath the weight
of everything I never say.
I sit at my desk with a piece of dry wood,
Trying to write things that are misunderstood.
My brain is a constellation of static and glue,
Like a hamster in a tuxedo trying to chew.
I dip my sharp lead into rivers of ink,
But the paper is judging the way that I think.
Is it a metaphor, or just a bad smell?
My rhyme scheme is trapped in a deep, lonely well.
Oh, rhythm, you flee like a cat in a hat,
Leaving my stuck in a rhyme that is flat.
I procrastinate wildly by counting the dust,
My typewriter gears have all turned into rust.
Just off the boat
Seventy four years ago
Nationality thrice changed
Misunderstood by all
Spurned by mother India
Disowned by the King
Distrusted by our rulers
Misunderstood by all
We are patriotic too
Though often locked out
To the laager we retreat
Misunderstood by all
Neither here nor there
Speaking in dulcet tones
Not in our mother tongue
Misundertood by all
As we grow old and lonely
We crave attention
Needy and entitled
Misunderstood by all
I learned how to shrink
from people who took up too much space,
how to apologise
for things that were never mine,
how to swallow words
until they turned into something bitter
and permanent.
You called it attitude
every time I tried to speak,
called it too much
every time I felt anything.
So I made myself smaller,
quieter,
easier to ignore,
until even I
could not find myself.
You were comfortable
with my silence.
But something stayed—
something sharp.
It watched,
it waited,
it remembered
every time I was dismissed,
every time I was rewritten,
every time I was told
to be less.
And now,
I am not interested
in being understood.
I am interested
in being done—
done shrinking,
done softening,
done carrying
what was never mine.
You can call it anger.
I call it
the first honest thing
I have ever felt.
A rose bunch heavy in my hand,
A card sent, did not reach the land,
My darling could not understand;
I pray for my star,
Stuck against the wall
I dare make a call,
No reply at all,
And yet here we are!
.
Zero tolerance for stupid nonsense.
Please tell me I'm wrong and misunderstanding.
I'm trying to stay optimistic.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2026
There's nothing I can write
won't be misunderstood
won't be misread
won't be misconstrued
nothing I can scribe
won't be misinterpreted
and nothing I can pen
won't be pooh-poohed.
'Write what you know,'
Mark Twain proposed,
or so
his saying goes
and,
as of the reader I know nothing
nor what the reader knows,
if
I'm not mistaken,
from now on
with such wisdom,
call it 'insight',
when I think of, 'Nothing,'
for the foresaid reader,
'Nothing,' I shall write.
You know you're always misunderstood.
With feelings that words can’t even explain.
But you understand why no one understands you
So you don’t feel bad.
When people kick you down,
They don’t know,
You’re already so down to earth.
I love how you never let yourself fall
Into the nasty pits they dig for you.
Yet you trip,
You stumble,
Your own feet betray you.
You’ve made so many excuses for others,
You’ve become an excuse yourself.
You've worn so many shoes that aren’t yours
You now reek of their stink.
And still
Nobody sees you
The way
You see you.
They think I’m mean but I’m really just shy
They call me aloof when I’m afraid to say hi
They call me a b*tch cuz I’ll look you in the eye
They think I’m cold but haven’t seen the tears that I cried
They think I’m spoiled but I just hide behind my pride
They don’t see the nervous tension hidden in my stride
They want me to talk with my mouth open wide
But these fine ears have been fed too many lies
I’ve been misunderstood in so many ways
Might have something to do with how I was raised
Ive been yelled at and hit so I’m utterly unfazed
You call it self-deprecating, I call it self-praise
I grew up too fast, my childhood took a dive
I’ve been self-sufficient ever since I was five
The shell that protects me is why I survived
The dark broken pieces are what keeps me alive
My family and friends? Did they run and hide?
I’m the only damn person that stood by my side
And I’ll keep on trucking as a father-less bride
‘Misunderstood’ on my headstone whenever I die
For someone whom you've loved so much,
To tell you your not worth it...
Given 20 years since birth,
Just thinking it's a sure fit.
To give them life,
Then have yours taken away in just a few short words...
As these tears stream down my face,
I thank God that I have one who doesn't think I'm a total disgrace.
I surely did not ask to be "sick",
Or wanted to be in that coma...
I wanted to be by you sides,
To just be there, home for ya's.
Oddly enough part of me can't blame her for being mad,
For all the anger that just became her...
Now I find myself feeling nothing more than just, sad...
Those who claim they are righteous..'
Yet divorce themselves from its fruit
Bear witness through-out the worlds.'
Poetry Misunderstood
Instrumental music flows through me
Coffee is soothing
Writing poetry is therapeutic
I didn’t invent the pen
Mind racing, document waves perspective
A melody journey
Paper writer purity
For we are misunderstood
Deep thinkers
Limitless potential
Creative sculptures
Vision absurdities
Ink bleeding
Candles burning
Beautiful scenery
Pictures travel photography
Paint a master piece
Heaven hues with golden shades
Many colors ablaze
Outlandish vast array
The love of poetry
Write a short story
Document your own journey
Sink loftily into the night
Mysteries on every page
I buried your voice.
How?
Echoes of my apologies.
They hit nothing but the cold stone.
So hard the cliff splintered—
Killing the cries before
they ever made it back.
Shattered, muffled—
Buried.
That makes no sense, my dear.
I know,
that’s a poet’s elegy.
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