Tag Archives: odd ducks

Proddings

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Proddings

I guess that it took gumption to stray so far from home.
Who knows why certain people are driven so to roam?
For certain, curiosity plays a part in it—
a proclivity to action, a resistance to just sit.
A passion to be accurate in finding all their pieces.
A need for further education after school ceases.
But I can’t help but feel that there is more to it than this.
It isn’t only fearing those things that we might miss.
There’s always that small feeling that we do not belong––
that sense of isolation from the local throng.
It is a bit like pushing the odd fledgling from the nest
who does not belong. The other fledglings may know best
who would belong best elsewhere, and speed them on their way.
Odd ducks who display gumption or creative ones must pay.
And in becoming targets, they are prodded to depart
to find other places where they can make their start
to finding who they are in life—places where they can see
all those different people that they might be meant to be.

East Timor, 1973. Off on a long adventure

These word prompts were made use of in the above poem:

RagTag: https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/06/16/rdp-16-target/Target
Daily Addictions:https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/: Accurate
FOWC: https://fivedotoh.com/: Gumption
Weekly Prompts: https://weeklyprompts.com/: Home

Pariah

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Pariah

His classmates found him bookish and his siblings found him odd.
There were no other similar peas within his pod.
Nobody understood him—not his parents, not his teacher.
He found no ally in his doctor nor his preacher.
Oftentimes the acts for which they should have been astonished
were the ones for which he had only been admonished.
They flunked him out of chemistry for blowing up the table
by concocting an explosive that was something less than stable.
They called him just a “ne’er do well.” It seemed he wasn’t able
to do what other kids could do and so he earned the label
of klutz and geek and doofus. He could do nothing right.
He couldn’t chug a beer down. He couldn’t win a fight.
He never ever dressed right. He was fond of oddball hats.
Other people shunned him. His best friends were his cats.
Even as an adult, bad luck didn’t abate.
He remained a pariah. He couldn’t get a date.
He failed at conversation and he was a lousy dancer.
His single social skill was that he found a cure for cancer!

The WordPress prompt today was astonish.

Treed

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Forgottenman gave me a prompt tonight, just for the fun of it. and said he’d do it, also. The word he gave me was cul de sac, and here’s my poem, for what it’s worth. (It’s 1:34 a.m., I had 4 hours of sleep last night and I hope I’m about to get a better night’s sleep tonight.)

img_0403

Treed

Stuck here in this cul-de-sac,
my mental skills are out of whack,
and I don’t seem to have the knack
for learning lessons as I look back.

I’m tortured as if on the rack.
My muscles wrench and joints all crack
my loosening bones go click clack clack.
With prospects dim, my soul is black.

Value in life is what I lack.
My life’s comprised of bric-a-brac.
I circle round and round the track,
until I’ve lost my will to quack.
Then
I
give
up
and
join
the
pack.

The prompt word today is “trust.” It may not be obvious what this poem has to do with the prompt word today, but actually it has everything to do with trusting yourself and your own unique views of life and to resist “losing your quack” and settling back into being like everyone else.  The narrator of this poem is not me. It is only who I am determined not to become.

Since both the illustration and the shape of the poem are trees, I think it is also appropriate for Becca’s Sunday Tree Challenge.