Try to hide this longing
but am as obstreperous
as a Blue Jay proclaiming presence.
Please know, that behind
awkwardness is a heart true
purity of intent incognito.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own. As a child and into my dating years, I was called obnoxious. Now that connecting with others is limited, I am once again aware of how this over exuberant side of myself emerges from time to time.)
A wounded creature, I circle the pack;
A laggard seeking inroads, missing cues;
A social wanna be without the smack –
This fogged state a waning of my hues.
My path a heartless road through blinding snow,
And I without a map or coat, alone –
To ask for help, a degradation – No!
Tis arrogance and stubbornness I own.
I’ll bide my time on sidelines crying ill,
Bemoan this wretched fate and limp along;
Til self-indulgence wears thin, then I will
By humble act, declare I do belong.
And in the end no consequence is worse:
Than mulish woman bearing no self-worth.
(This modest attempt at iambic pentameter is brought to you by the promptings of Frank at dVerse. Hope it wasn’t too painful.)