As someone who has many 'unique' socks in my sock drawer I never felt comfortable calling them odd; in my drawer it is more unusual to find a pair! Being unique is something to celebrate, whether it is a sock, a taste in music, a face ,or a personality. This poem is a fun look at something serious. I hope I am odder than my socks, but people shouldn't be called names for being unique. We are 'All Different, All Equal'
Don’t Call Me Odd - a poem by Geoff Roberts
Why do they call me odd?
Why do they call me an odd sock? I wouldn’t say I was that strange.
I’m not part of a pair, or a multipack, you could say I am unique.
I’m a pioneer, an out of the shoe thinker.
There’s no-one like me, I’m a standalone sock,
Not that I often stand alone, I’ll stand alongside any other sock, I don’t mind.
Call me a liberal, a dreamer, but it doesn’t matter if you’re right or left, stripy or dotty, ankle or knee high, I’ll stand with you, even holey socks don’t wear thin with me.
Chuck me in a draw and I’m like the in law that your family loves, I’ll get involved, I don’t need to hide behind another, I’ll get my feet dirty and mix it with anyone.
I’m not fussy when it comes to feet either, I have hugged them all.
Hairy toes, in growing nails, cracked heal, bunions,
Big feet, hammer toes, ticklish soles, I’m indifferent.
Surely there are socks odder than me.
Socks with grippy bits on the bottom, that’s unusual.
Socks with individual toes, now that’s peculiar.
And there are things that would make for an odder sock than I.
A box, that wouldn’t do for socks.
A tin can, would be no good for the foot of a man.
A car tyre, clothes peg, pair of plyers,
TV remote, egg cup, old rowing boat,
Now these would all be odd socks!
There would be no place for a toe, no room for a heal,
When you first put them on, there would be no new sock feel.
So don’t call me odd, unique, that’s fine,
But I’ll tell you this, there’s nothing wrong, with being one of a kind.