Best Cringe Poems
These feelings in my mouth
Make it hard to speak.
Sour and acidic
My face becoming a perma cringe!
I would swallow my words
But I fear death would be ,
The end result.
I cannot breathe dread and
Anxiety take hold of me.
I grow pale;
And pray you can read
My thoughts, and see
The things I would not
Say.
I’m not at ease,
And am one breath away
From spitting out a curse!
I have lived my entire life suppressing squeamish hurls.
My cringe that never ends startles, falters and recoils.
I would like people's internal body substances properly contained
but cannot even escape vile as piled by family and pets in upsets.
Slithering, slimy reptiles are so very, entirely ugly
their looks even hurt the feelings of their mommy's.
Televised close-ups of intrusive surgeries are so yucky
I must close my eyes to keep funky from my tummy.
Someone screaming terror, alive and sobbing in a coffin,
puts my sanity through a horrendous, endless haunting.
In public I cringe straight to furious seething when
an adult fist threatens an innocent little her or him.
Flinching happens, sometimes accompanied by a scream
and while it's not great, it at least validates my heart rate.
I cringe when the smoke comes
Of the crippled boy leaning on the ground
Creeping toward the sounds
Of the birds of love, celebrating
A cremation party with bounce.
I cringe when the smoke comes
To the hardy knight’s pout
Under the hyena’s slurping sounds,
To the immolated pigeon on the ground.
I cringe when the smoke comes
When a holy page burns
Bunches of lilacs and roses.
And I cringe and cringe
Whenever the smoke comes!
See Trump I Cringe
When I woke up in middle of the night
Another poem I did decide to write
All about Trump and mess he is in
Locker room talk and won't say it again
Now each time cringe seeing his sight.
Jim Horn
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
Cringe After Hearing about Binge
Regarding disaster we were on the fringe.
And about the thought will always cringe;
Then we worried,
While they hurried;
Heard they had been on a drinking binge.
Jim Horn
She loved the feeling of the singe,
As she further pushed in the syringe.
(Note: This is about no one. Just a cool rhyme and dark topic.)
the Dark encroaches
frightening fears
smothering heart beats
ending now
Deaths beginning
near
Final
-For Dr. Ram Mehta's "Septolet" contest.
Tim Bryant
Death is less grave reaper
Than stone-faced gate keeper;
A dark doorman who waits
At eternity’s gates
Opening one to Light;
One to dark, fiery night.
He will surely show you
The exit to pass through!
As Death’s last oversight
He shuts the gate to Light;
Then Death will cringe in fright
Doomed to dark, fiery night.
Are you ready for a few laughs
from Horn Haiku of course
Cognitive dissonance and resonance
Santos on drug binge
had been using a syringe
causing us to cringe
Santos still livid
they say that he has COVID
loosing would flip lid
had mind badly soiled
Santos is like eggs hardboiled
a child who was spoiled
When Santos occurred
as usual reassured
trouble up had stirred
Santos much bad news
Peruse then he would abuse
suffered a big bruise
I’m pretty sure cringe is the most modern poetic style
Med-school freshman year is over - finals are over,
and if they aren’t already forgotten they’re fading fast
- my relief feels like achievement.
We haven’t gotten our grades yet, but I’m full
of aggressive patience and prom optimism.
One suspects the grades will arrive soon, but if they’re bad,
I hope they’ll have the decency to wait a couple more weeks.
The thing is, I’m no longer spiraling!
My moods changed from high-anxiety to summer itinerary.
Peter (my bf) and I are swiping-right on freedom, messy as that is.
Our mission is to re-write the entirely accurate school-year emotional-math,
from studies 100, boyfriends 0.
No more lectures, labs, and computer screen-time malaise,
we’ll tackle the ‘loneliness epidemic’ in a hundred ways
- because freedom always begins as a decision.
We’re on our way to the sunny-fair beaches of Heraclee
- on the French Riviera, where heaven’s in easy reach
and life can unwind, unburdened by consequence.
Our mornings will be sun splashed and surf-adjacent - I say,
“If youth must be wasted, make it a littoral squandering.”
In the evenings we’ll chase the dusk on rented bikes,
and watch the local kids flying 3D, sculptured kites.
There’s a rickety old merry-go-round that we can ride all night
on garish, multicolored sea creatures from B-movie features.
Busy Saint Tropez is right down the street (11 miles)
where there’s a rainbow ferris-wheel lit by 160,000 LEDs,
Hawaiian ices, neon lights, dance contests, and cotton candy.
It’s very festival-like, and while music spills from local bars,
we’ll sip umbrella’d concoctions under the stars.
I’ll be wearing cheaply purchased, beach-merch tank-tops,
that I didn’t own last week and I’ll donate in the fall,
with prada silk-mini-skirts so short that they’re practically earrings
- no fashion Interventions please.
.
.
Songs for this:
Hawt Heart by Born At Midnite
Celebration Lover by Chuck Senrick
Smash by Born At Midnite
.
.
littoral = seashore
Assailed, maligned, hounded and betrayed
And all for why, simply for the game I played,
My aim to win but of course the lefties don't agree,
Their views alone are all they ever want to see.
Control and power their only final goal,
That's why I say it was they that really stole
All those elections across our glorious land,
They and the Media, such a sordid little band.
But that didn’t suffice, so why not start an inquisition,
From which to shout their nonsensical position,
Naming me for causing all that mayhem,
Their fear so clear, but can you truly blame them.
Little they know their knife is blunt and brittle,
Their constant jabs hurting me so little,
Look at the polls, Americans know better,
A few drops may hit but I assure you they'll get wetter.
As they saying goes 'What doesn't kill me makes me stronger'
In Biden’s state he won’t go that much longer,
And then Kamala, do you really want that Dame
Sitting in the White House when all she wants is fame?
Let them try for what possibly might stick,
Not recalling that my tongue is equal to my kick,
If you don't believe it just listen every day,
For their only news is everything I say.
The media froths at every twist and turn,
The stake well-lit awaiting me to burn,
And yet I soar above their shrill and deranged noise,
Watching them cringe is one of life's unending joys.
Why do I sing such a memory?
You're gone now, I've sung you away.
Recalling a song
or humming a tune
seems not to be enough.
No, I have to sing, to holler, to bellow
and then that recollection will depart;
such noise will take its place
and singe so many ears.
And then they will cringe.
(4 Oct 2023)
Cringe at Image of Scrimmage
what we did was cringe
when they inserted syringe
trump did see image
Jim Horn
Eye wood bee grateful,
Ifs yous dont judge me poorly
Four writen this whey
Just doing what u asked me.
I'd be chuffed if you red dis
My dodgy atemp to write
This cat's meow of a verse
Pleese dont bee salty
I went to a restarant tuther day
They had two many knifes
I asked the waither for informations
It cawsed a grate kerfuffle
I was reeley shook
Delulu rizz me mate showd me
His sockdolager left me realing
A bee's knees this verse is.
From me another gets a thing
Because he deserves something
And from me Absolute Nothing,
When he is eyeing Everything;
To the lustful her wished fling
At a fighter lesson-teaching swing
Such as boxers collect in a ring
And detached a feared wing…
And when insult in my ears ring
Dong-ended ding ding
And they displeasure bring
I try to Ease restore with Zing
Unwisely, I don’t to God cling
But wisely wouldn’t choose to cringe.