Short Awkwardness Poems
Short Awkwardness Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Awkwardness by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Awkwardness by length and keyword.
That awkwardness
Unexpected,
Unthinkable
But hey it's the moment,
Besides in the latter is a good story to tell and laugh at...
Space-Poet
You shadowed my bob
Down Malvinia Street
As we held hands,
Hid my awkwardness
Carrying both our bags
High School Memories
With a smile:-)
01-08-2015
Absence of thought process
What shall be focused
Lights or darkness
Awkwardness
Nothing gained or heard
Not even one single word
Losing touch
But yet wanting so much
Awaiting your ghost
to enter
I miss
your awkwardness
around
It's like you never left
sitting in cities
sitting in trains
miss your awkwardness
its like you never left
i blame it on time.....
Buzzing bumblebee
you just might be the cutest
thing today I've seen.
Your black and yellow
jacket, awkwardness of flight;
Amusing fellow
This burly, yellow,
fellow that visits different
flowers all day long.
I
did not
give my best
and
I log,
far behind,
from
thy love
that I went
alone, sailing the sea
of
unknown
adjectives
and
mastered
the language
of
my heart’s
awkwardness,
…carving it, as muses!
Kim: “So, your plan was to win him with awkwardness?”
Me: “No, my plan is to be as sarcastic as humanly possible and see if he can handle it.”
Kim: “You are SO good at the interpersonal stuff”
Me: “ I so hope college guys get me - I’m out of sync with these high school durks.“
What anguish masks her face
with cherry chapstick on her lips
and Medusa’s beautiful head of hair
there are signs of inner turmoil seen
in her deep blue eyes and her demeanor,
Or is this just an attempt to conceal her
quintessential adolescent awkwardness?
Contest: A Brian Strand #1172.
sweaty palms,
lead to a brisk handshake.
averted eyes.
awkwardness.
the epitome of adolesence.
young boys and girls pretending to be grown up.
masquerading in ties and lipstick.
leaving numbers on napkins,
half-smiles,
and shared taxis.
it starts with a handshake.
quick
brisk
sweaty.
false.
like everything to come.
why’s it so easy for
a group of ants to
hang out together
without playing favorites,
without making one
feel out of place?
let’s say
one ant from a
different colony
drops by.
there’d be no
awkwardness,
no ants of ebony
judging its
red exterior.
blend in,
you’re one of us now,
one of them
will say.
If only humans
behaved the same way.
Form:
The first time it is not so good
From fear and apprehension
We fumble through the awkwardness
While discovering dimensions
The next few times is not so bad
As there is less pretending
We start to learn the ins and outs
While reaching the impending
The more we do the dirty deed
The more we find its meaning
To stop the taking all for me
The purpose is the Giving
There is a poignancy in boyhood...
The high voice, and ineptitude,
The yearning to be free of mother's strings;
The awkwardness of age fifteen, to wit
A boyish sullenness.
There are some things lost when manhood gained -
And mothers cry on thinking.
----------------------------------------------------------
3/10/2015
Featured poem of the week commencing 8/13/2017
Purple dress, suit with a purple-ish tie.
Dinner. Fast car. Awkwardness. Dance?
Yes. Am I supposed to kiss you now? Do
you want to kiss me? Yes. Kiss me. Ehh.
Again? Wow. These words and sentences
describe a night, a night too meaningful to
explain. In that one night I gained. I gained
a dance, a kiss, and a new song. I song I will
remember forever. A song that put me in heaven.
Form:
I've fallen in love with her...awkwardness.
Her wispy little poem petals.
The petals coming together.
The reds, pinks, speckled with blue infinity.
Flowing against the current.
Against every trend.
She eventually caved in, tumbling over the brink.
Broke apart in a cool black pool.
A mosaic in stained glass pink.
Trapped in a tangle of sinkers and plastic weeds...
Macabre and painfully serene.
She is beautiful in her awkwardness
Armed with a tired smile
Foolishly believing in good all the while....
Broken hearts her path has trodden
Time foolishly mended what should have not been forgotten
'Whatever does not kill me' her philosophy
Or is it just a desperate plea?
An excuse to punish her own delicate soul
Hoping this sadistic ritual we will never know
'I will fix him someday'
That's what we all say.
The thrill of being accepted
Gives you a smile that leaves non unaffected
Her smile as she agrees to go
To dance with you on homecoming floor
Drives a man into the clouds
And makes him confident and proud
I grin at the potential future
Holding her by my side in a slow step
Learning more as i talk to her
And feeling her hands on my chest
Laughing at the awkwardness of the others
And smiling when others realize we're lovers
Lasting impressions will be made tonight of food and man
A secret ingredient is part of the pleasure I presume
Same as secrets of the one across from me
A first date - he was late, but quickly pardoned
Given the two glasses of wine I enjoyed while waiting
Not many others around, the awkwardness ascends
As I decide, within lasagna's savory sauce - it's cinnamon!
I have never felt so warm
As in the months of winter. There is
Something more substantial in the crispness
Of the air and the dryness
Of the trees, something that provokes
My deepest sympathy. As children
We walked through the streets after dark
Watching the drunkards sweep
The sidewalks with their sleeves.
We were not afraid of darkness
Or of shadow,
But only
The silence of our sleep
And the awkwardness of dreams.
I have a whimsical patience.
I just have to untangle the slithering awkwardness.
Because I have trusty sludge in my pocket.
I shift through different time zones.
Hopeful.
Reliant as the splotches hissing on my arms.
Untangled.
Like eating old socks, they promised.
They taste as good as taffy.
But that’s just my whimsical patience.
Rustic.
Just like eating the weirdest stuff.
And no after dinner mint ever.
Ever feel like you’re alone
When standing in the middle of a crowd?
Feeling like waldo in a find waldo book.
Like you no longer belong
The awkwardness is tearing you down.
Hating the way you view your self
and wishing for a way out.
The emotional roller coaster of highs and lows
Knowing you have tried to overcome.
Never giving up before
Right now I am looking for the door.
Am I kidding myself?
Can I figure it out?
Narcissi bowing in the breeze;
their adorable awkwardness
surfaces to mind small children
dressed in flowered habiliments
in their very first recital.
Each flowery face reflecting
their image at waters edge
like looking into a mirror
pining away in love with each bow,
their own beauty: yellow and white
petals with cup-shaped central crowns.
I gaze at these comely flowers
and seemingly they are aware
of my presence and smile at me.
First
meetings
are startling,
to say the least
the expectancy,
has a propensity
to take away the magic…
Feeling on the edge, not knowing
whether to hug, kiss or just shake hands
because nothing on earth can prepare you
for the initial awkwardness ahead.
The person no longer a stranger,
mulling thoughts occupy your mind
speculating on his thoughts
does he like me or not?
Could this be the start
of something
amazing
or the
end…
Is the scarceness of peace
Is like craving for sea water although its undrinkable
Is the scarceness of resources
Is like craving for something that is not yours
Is the scarceness of morals
Is like baking bread without the sugar
Is the scarceness of accountability
Is like eating meat with the bones
Is the scarceness of true love
Is like drinking orange juice with the peels
Is the scarceness of happiness
Is like stealing a shoe that is not your size
It hits me like a wave, churning deep within my gut.
Holding my breath as the situation sinks in.
(Climbing a stairway to heaven)
People staring, eyes peering, thinking of a way to get out
(drifting up in a cloud of smoke)
Pale face reddens as heartbeat quickens
(Flying away on invisible wings)
Running, fleeing, where can I go?
(End of the rainbow)
Dirt swallows me up, blanking my mind
(Calm, peaceful, no more worries)
Frozen in awkwardness, palm to my forehead
Stuck in reality.
Hell it feels so sweet of him to say that
And so sweet of me to write this
And the whole poem is so sweet.
In fact it’s so sweet that I’d get a sugar rush
From this if it were a dessert treat.
Okay enough of this rhyming,
I’m so happy and my face is filled with heat.
I’ve got a weird feeling of euphoria.
I kind of like-like this friend of mine
(Okay maybe I really, really do a lot).
I just act shy because I’ll dread me
And anything I say causing awkwardness.