Best Embarrassment Poems
The pipe major at the front led the way
On this cold and windy St Patrick's day
He was six foot and well built
A freak gust blew up his kilt
The crowd cheered at his manhood on display...
An event I have to tell you about was a rather embarrassing occasion for me,
But they say laughter is one of life’s best medicines, so I’ll share it with you happily.
One morning I was getting dressed and got down on my knees to look in my bedside locker,
Realised I was stuck and couldn’t get up; the nurses would think I was off my rocker.
I had no choice I had to get help, so rang my buzzer for someone to come and assist,
A nurse popped her head round the curtain, she needed extra help, though I tried hard to resist.
You may wonder why I was reluctant for there to be so much fuss and unnecessary concern,
The embarrassing truth is my bottom half was totally naked and my cheeks started to burn.
Later during the medicine round, the Sister asked me about the fright that I’d given the staff,
“Are you sure that you didn’t fall?” she said, I shook my head and I started to laugh.
I told her, “I was on my knees and looked like I was praying, when I was descended upon,”
She laughed & replied, “Well in future if you feel like being religious, make sure you have some knickers on.”
embarrassment
delivered on the wings
of indiscretion
1st amendment atrocities
Secondary nature
Pound for pound
They scream above holy lungs
Of righteous contradictions
As humanity continues to dry-hump “social” media,
Their sedentary psychiatrist
Judgmental lip smacks
Chapped from the arrogant vowels
They spit
Another syllabic lyric
Within our home of the “free”
Our 50 stars become 50 irrational assault rifles
In order to become bullet proofed
From infantile validation
We embrace rusty excavators
Crushing on Bones wearing red sweaters & silky moustaches
While MBAs & Bachelor Degrees
Fight in Spartan-tempered mouth-offs
If a dress is blue or gray
Donkeys & Elephants become consensual orgies
In the name of desperate prayers
But, neither will raise taxes in the name of God
For church & state are separate
Until dollar-store woven baskets made in China swoop in
During Sunday mas(k)s
Stairways to our imaginary heaven,
Its railing removed by forced epiphanies,
Replaced by “angelic” archways
Made of Kardashian silicone
And rose-tinted ascension
Yes, we can.
Yes, we did.
Yes, we fell.
We. Must. Change.
©D.J.E.
To say today has been a strange day would be an understatement. It started off this morning when I went into the den where our eldest cat, Paint, was meowing up a storm. I petted her head a few times and no joke she keeled over and died right then and there. We were kinda expecting it but damn what a way to start the day.
A few hours later I had an appointment to inspect a truck for a family and nobody speaks English except the kindergartener. I pull up to their house and this yard is a mess. Trash everywhere. I see the truck I needed to inspect parked in the yard and the cutest looking little sleeping puppy curled up next to the front tire and yep you guessed it...I go straight to ’selfie with an unsuspecting dog mode’. Here I am kneeling down trynna get the best angle for the perfect selfie and reach out to pet the pooch and this dog is cold and stiff as a rock. Just then the entire family (Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents 2nd and 3rd cousins) pours out of the front door and here I am hovered over their dog trying to explain to a bunch of people who don’t speak a lick of English that their dog is dead. Stupid me is pointing at the dog while pretending to slit my throat...the international sign for your dog is dead ????? The Mexican father reached down and pokes the dog then starts jabbering something about El Diablo and giving me the stank eye. The grandmother breaks out her rosary beads and begins saying the Lord’s Prayer and finally the English speaking preschooler comes toddling out and interprets for me....I didn’t kill your dog! I just want to get the hell out of there so I begin taking photos of the truck. Here comes the funny part. I accidentally step on either a tarter sauce or ranch dressing condiment container and produced what sounded like explosive diarrhea and spewed white looking pelican all over everybody’s pants and shoes. The toddler giggles and I just grin and keep on keepin on. Fast forward to the end of the day I’m digging a hole to bury my cat ‘paint’ and out of the ten acres we own I pick the exact same spot I buried another cat-dog-chicken or chupacabra a decade earlier and there’s bones and ribs everywhere. Anywho I feel like I need a shot of tequila or twelve.
Have you ever felt nervous to the point of no return,
your face is getting red and your forehead soon to burn,
you can't think clearly wondering what you'll do,
and while all of this is happening your trying to stay true.
Stay true to you and who you want them to see,
but it gets so over whelming you want to flee,
get away from them and even your mind,
but it's only a matter of seconds until you run out of time.
You collect your thoughts after this little attack,
hoping to just get back on track,
but you look back at their faces all red,
and try to take back something shouldn't have said.
They see that you're embarrassed and frustrated as well,
but not only them, the teachers can tell,
you excuse yourself and walk away,
hoping tomorrow will be a better day.
For many years... My life has been
an embarrassment!
Filled with hopelessness
and discouragement!
Many things I thought I had enjoyed...
Have left in me... A large and empty void!
Many nights, I would
cry myself to sleep.
Knowing the hole my life was in,
was very, very deep.
Then one day, I called out to God!
I wasn’t sure if he’d listen!
My family, my old church,
I was now missin'.
My family prayed for me for so many years.
I often brought them embarrassment and tears.
God... I tried everything else...
I want to come back to you!
I need you now Jesus! I really do!
Please come into my heart,
and cleanse me within!
Set me free from all addictions and sin!
I know that you will never let go of my hand.
My whole life, on your word,
I shall now stand.
Only you can satisfy the emptiness in my soul!
I am now complete,
satisfied, and made whole!
By Jim Pemberton
Aunt Boo posted everything on social media.
Misspelling words, never using Wikipedia.
Atrocious punctuation was almost laughable.
Her caustic posts were anything but affable.
She had warnings all the time by those who knew.
She never verified facts - not a great thing to do.
People were consistently threatening to sue.
For she posted libel hourly, without a clue.
Not caring to verify if things were true.
A big embarrassment, my relative, Aunt Boo.
Embarrassment at the Big Box Store
By Elton Camp
Sue was checking out at the crowded store
Then occurred something that she did abhor
Although the checker tried to do it twice,
A bar code just wouldn’t scan—no dice
So, loudly over the store’s public address
The equipment malfunction he did confess
“On super size Tampax I need a price check.”
It was misheard as “thumbtacks,” then heck
Over the public address system came the call
That was unavoidably heard by one and all
And so loudly the question then did come
“Is that the type you push in with your thumb?”
“Or is the missing price you need me to trace
Ones that with a hammer you drive into place?”
Red-faced Sue made a mad dash for the door
And resolved never to shop there anymore
The food tasted so very yummy
He crammed it all in his tummy
Soon he wanted to poo
But there was no loo
Had it before found a toilet crummy
Feb.16.2022
A New Bawdy or Humorous Limerick
Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Tania Kitchin
My freshman year is ending and I’m as busy as a one-armed juggler. Of course covid is back.
It reoccurs at the worst times, like a movie slasher long thought dead.
When we have something scheduled very early in the morning, we call it an “early-burn.”
This one early-burn morning I had a 7am meeting. Peter and I had met for breakfast because he’s back in my life and he’s ALWAYS up and out early.
It was snowing and we were hurrying, because somehow, I always cut things close. I think I tripped over my shoe-string on a patch of ice. I went down hard and I heard this loud ripping sound. I’d ripped my pants badly and my book bag spilled too. I’m scrambling around on the ground in an attempt to grab some loose papers the wind was scattering.
Peter says, “Wow, your panties are really thin.”
I jump up “I feel you don’t know where our boundaries are,” I laugh, “you’re so nasty - don’t just stand there grinning - HELP me!” I indicate two papers for him to chase. I looked to see how bad the rip was (BAD). Of course, my coat was short that day, so I untucked my blouse. “How does this look?” I asked Peter.
“That works,” he said, giving my fix his imprimatur.
The two of us managed to corral the papers. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen,” Peter said.
I realized I’d ripped my pants leg and scraped my knee badly - it was bleeding profusely.
“God Damn It!” I went off.
This lady comes up - seemingly out of nowhere - this old white Christian lady who we’d never seen before. She was so out of place and random and she says, “I really don’t think you should be talking like that in public.” She wasn’t harsh.
At that moment, a gust of wind came up that made me lower my head, as though I couldn’t look the old woman in the eyes but I was just ignoring her anyway - having my own set of issues to deal with.
She had a point though. I’m cursing too much these days. I feel like If I admit it, maybe it’s ok but I am trying not to cuss anymore - well less maybe - at least in a negative way.
“I think you look fu-kin’ GREAT,” would still be acceptable.
The party’s going well, the drinks are flowing fast,
When someone saunters over from my long and distant past.
‘Hello’ I say sheepishly, for his name I do not know,
Is it Frank or maybe Steve? I hope it doesn’t show.
‘Where are you working these days?’ a fishing exercise,
But I still don’t know his name, something I’m struggling to disguise.
‘I’m sorry’ he says ‘but I cannot place your name’
‘Me neither’ I reply ‘ but it’s Ronnie all the same’.
11th November 2019
Give me 8 lines of poetry contest
Sponsor - Tania Kitchin
Week before middle school
Twelve and shy
Sent to get haircut
With three dollars
Clippers were brought out
I was too scared to look
I had never had a store-bought haircut before
The man had a funny smell.
I would not know it was alcohol for several more years.
He sang while he used a razor on my head.
When he was done I looked up.
He said "Three dollars son."
I started to cry.
A tear ran down my face.
He had given me a buzz cut.
I had not grown any kind of indicators that I
was a girl. I had never thought to tell him.
"Don't worry, Son," he said, as he took my three
dollars. "It will grow back."
So I went to middle school looking like
a male army recruit, at the age of twelve.
Worst year of my life.
At that time.
I planned all night that when I saw you we would finally converse and that I would finally get to know you better.
Between all of the passing glances.
And not being able to catch up to you sooner.
Tomorrow would be the day I catch you when your not busy and fill you in on what's been on my mind.
But of all the craziest things.
I forgot the words mid sentence.
My lips moved but nothing came out.
You stood in anticipation.
I stood anxiously waiting for some type of sound.
Constantly playing this moment in my head before actually getting to this moment.
I stammered over every word.
Stuttering over the simplest of words.
I barely managed to get my name out.
I held my hands out and paused.
Inviting my lips to let at least one word out so this situation wouldn't be completely awkward.
I continued to stand feeling beads of sweat begin to form against my forehead.
In a climate controlled room I felt like I stepped inside of my own personal hell.
The simplest of words were the devil.
At that moment embarrassment became my biggest sin.
I don't know if it was bitter sarcasm.
Or a good sense of humor.
But I did finally feel a bit of relief when you told me that you didn't speak good english either
I have written many things
Of which you will never read
About you, to you, regarding you
A mystery they will always be
Secrets deep within my heart
Hidden by the light of day
Only in the dark of night
Does my pen have its say