Long Embarrassingly Poems
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My beloved friend and esteemed professor,
is it so wrong to worship and admire
you with so warm and glowing a splendor,
which is unbounded with heartfelt desire?
Your silhouette is my Achilles's heel,
and your lips (what lips those are!) dare I kiss?
Your soft skin glows with a warmth that reveals
to me a sensuality that I miss;
I am undone! For you are my dilemma.
My need for you is embarrassingly clear!
Must I extinguish this overwhelming fire
which I have for you? For you are most dear.
Were I not just a student or your friend,
could we be more before this sonnet's end?
Mary, the daughter of some parental friends, is on her high-school-senior college-tour and my mom (on Face Time) told me their plans called for them to be in New Haven over the weekend.
“Would you mind taking an hour to give her a campus tour?”
I rolled my eyes saying, “I barely know the place myself.”
She waited silently with obvious, parental patience.
“I’ve got a TON of homework,” I pleaded.
“I’d owe you,” she said, encouragingly.
I sighed, struggling with my new and heavy burden, “ALL right,” I groaned.
Mary and I know each other from hospital events we couldn’t avoid (her dad is an emergency surgeon) but we’ve never hit it off.
I take some pride in being able to talk about anything - from football to politics or movies to fashion but Mary’s one and only interest is guys.
Mary’s one of those girls who HAS to have a boyfriend - like there’s a municipal ordinance requiring one - and just about any guy will do. She didn’t even have to particularly like them but they had to be Instagram pretty.
So any time I’d see her (we didn’t go to the same school) she’d have a Tom or Ed or Frank in tow, filling that boyfriend requirement and due to the high boyfriend turnover rate, she’d constantly and embarrassingly flirt with other potential boyfriends right in front of Mr. Now. It was enough to shame my gender.
A typical Mary conversation:
“Are you dating anyone?” She’d ask.
“No,” I’d admit.
“You’re just shy,” she’d say, “You just need to put yourself out there.”
She was positive and encouraging, even in the face of increased competition.
“I used to be shy,” she revealed. Which I doubted very much.
Anyway, once they (her Mom joined us) were certified vaccinated, we got a student volunteer for a real Yale tour. I love the “Harry Potter” look of old campus. (COVID restrictions limit where visitors can go).
I find I already have a sense of “ownership” here and I secretly hope she ends up somewhere else. I waved as they drove off, wishing her a bucket of instagram smiles.
.
Hmmm… maybe this sounds catty *shrug* - does this sound catty?
LOL whenever you tell a joke to me.
LOL whenever I'm laughing hysterically.
LOL means Laughing Out Loud obviously.
Just thought I'd mention that to all of the readers,
who don't know what LOL be,
because I say this most embarrassingly
I only learned recently the true meaning of what LOL be.
(Shouldn't that last line read "what LOL IS" grammatically?
It doesn't matter. I claim poetic license you see.
That's a privilege extended to all poets like me,
or should it be "all poets like I" grammatically?
Once again, it doesn't matter.
Once again poetic license is extended to me.)
LOL
Incomplete metamorphosis of this stilled adolescent...
petrified, sheltered, and mortally wounded prepubescent
I consider myself
analogously buttressed, cocooned,
garrisoned, hardened, insulated,
where cell baited jumping frog
o' Montgomery County ne'er
went leaving larvae stage,
now no divine providential
power can assuage,
yours truly metaphorically locked
within invisible iron bound cage
every occasion to shower
validates steep wage
permanently doled out,
yet tis futile to rage
against this human machine
i.e. body dielectric rampage
clocking three scored
orbitz chronological gauge
forever fixed feigned fodder,
when unlived uber story
of mein kampf writ faint
chicken scratch final page
gin hated anorexic
regressive toddling cribbage
deadly game of mine Life pampered
post infancy attended
Aladdin (a lad in) his hermitage
late childhood marriage
with grim reaper as
coefficient co-inhabitant
feasting emaciated lovely bones
verily scrawny, puny, and
nerdy, yea easy to lyft
courtesy lost livingsocial scrimmage
trademark spindleshanks -
stagnant embarrassingly useless
two legged equipage
at childhood's end...,
me skinny package then
weighing, eh no
more'n half dozen stone,
these days when
undressing to wash
forced to espy physical
*****sapiens wreckage
constant visual reminder
this spare rankled, stunted,
tendered ship of state,
yours truly nah oh sage
enlightenment gleaned i.e.
20/20 hindsight kickstarted
quickened, leveraged, mortgaged...,
principly unbalanced worthiness
anatomical disparity
impossible mission to salvage
accounting rent permanently askew
fixed APR rendered
amortization sabotage
irreversible penalty suffrage
escaping serfdom volunteering
self as webbed vassalage
til death do me part.
Great sins of omission
are not in anyone's book of
What I Plan To Do When I Grow Up.
Henry Ford,
his automated
and then incorporated
financial investment company,
did not intend to emancipate us
from family farms,
Thereby disenfranchising
our sense of secure
and fertile wealth health,
interdependently sufficient
organic homes,
silent rhythmic rural memories,
Fading views and feels of cannons
pulled by slow-marching horses,
mules,
plodding oxen,
ghosts of elders past
monoculturing aggression
at slower blade-drawn pace
Sometimes domestically violent.
Sometimes military chronic stressed
LeftBrain against Right's longer kinship memories.
And sometimes more polyculturally enriching
rural WiseElder tree memories
of nurturing ponds
and domestically peaceful milk cows,
curious cats,
tribally defensive,
and embarrassingly rutty, dogs,
horny yet happy crickets,
Flirtatious cycling
recycling moonlight
and radiant enlightenment of daylight
and dualdark co-relational resonance
of night play.
To sustain Original forested home
and extending family
we need parental and school support
for cooperative resilient communities,
secure and healthy homes,
habitats,
wombs.
Whether rural
or suburban
or urban
But mindful
that rural tribal homesteading
and cooperative diverse economies
and multicultural politics of healthy nurturing,
solidarity with home place
and wealthy polyculturing kin,
mutually share one
humane-divine ZeroZone Planet
Inside calling us back and forth
toward Polyculture Zenithing EarthSoul
embodied within
GaiaEarth
Ecologically gracing nutritional homes
poly-theologically re-membering health within.
Trivializing grace of WinWin commission
co-arising global communion
is not in my book of
What We Have Hoped To Become.
Or even in my textbook studying
What I Missed In School
The ocean is so beautiful, so wild and untamed.
With power and a majesty that never can be named.
We get lost in its rhythms, we’re pulled down into its depths,
Imagine we can hear the song, the tears Atlantis wept.
Then wake up to the life that’s ours, embarrassingly bland.
Just for a moment we forget we’re still standing on just sand.
We fool ourselves if we believe we’re greater than we are.
To think that we might fly away and pocket our own star.
Our lives are brief, though beautiful, as anyone can see.
From dust to dust we long for life, yearn for eternity.
And the years roll ever on indifferent to our demands
As for a moment we forget we’re still standing on just sand.
How it shifts beneath our feet with the waves and with the wind.
And if you think, you must agree that’s just how it has always been…
Though we seek a firm foundation, something solid as a stone,
We still long for mystery and set off into the unknown.
And though we sail across the ocean and we journey through the stars,
We must remember where we come from and hold fast to who we are.
We might believe we’re safe but there’s much we don’t understand
When for a moment we forget we’re still standing on just sand.
Are we no different than we were when our history began?
For just a moment we forget we’re still standing on just sand.
I just found a new quarry;
of my childish admiration, he should be wary
having admirers have no quota
so, I’m ready to line up even to the gutter.
Starring embarrassingly, I have no qualms
to his chocolate and well built arms.
The Afro makes him quaint,
his obvious protruding gluteus
is about to make me faint.
He responds with a look quite queerly
that actually shows I’m doing things too early.
How expensive is his emotion?
Trust me, I can handle its quotation
without a quiver, forever and ever.
Oh boy! Right now, I don’t mind a quickie
b’cos I’m gradually feeling silly
just kiss me and I promise we’re quits
and I’ll let it hang on my lips like sweets.
I may be nurturing a wish quite quixotic
but the feeling is unbelievably exotic.
Joined Poetry Soup January 2026
I'm a keen observer of the body particularly exhalation of the breath
it happens near the top of body and also near the bottom
There's often heaps of air, in the body it is stored
But sometimes there's just no control, embarrassingly it sneaks out like a phantom
Now when breathing through the nose, up near the top
there's sounds of snort and snore
But when it's near the bottom
beeps and tweaks and motor bikes, different sounds galore
If you suffer signs of flatulence
here's a tip that you should know
If you're surrounded by some company
Please exhale only from the nose and not from down below
There are some foods reputed to build up lots wind, tinned baked beans
Jerusalem fartichokes and alcohol, this list is just a start
There are many other ingested foods that will cause a noisy fart
Now if you're standing on your hands
with both your top and bottom air holes upside down
Does a fart become a burp and a burp become a fart?
How many times do you try not to make a noisy sound?
A burp was once regarded
as a compliment to the cook
But if you're sitting eating at the table and expel a noisy fart
It's most likely you'll get more than just a dirty look
Maybe you’ll call
Today
Maybe you won’t
Deep down
I don’t like the sound
Of either
If you do
I’m a cracked
Overused step stool
For your ego
Overflowing our conversations
With daydreams filling
Our summer
Just for you
To leave each one
At your doorstep
As you shut off
Your bedroom light
Without saying a word
But still expect me
To be waiting there
In the morning
With no tears
No questions
Just happy to see you
With that pleasant smile
On my face
You compliment but really overlook
Just so my change
Ends up in your
Pockets
Cause you spend yours
On things that are
killing your lungs slowly
Or just leave
Your eyes
constantly bloodshot
But if you don’t call
Embarrassingly I feel worse
Than how you treat me
at first it was unbearable i must admit
i wanted to stay home, i told my mom i felt sick
i understand now why they say time heals
it does
kinda funny though, its healing what never was
the first few weeks i’d wake up and try to get out of bed
awakened from a slumber that was only induced to silence the sirens in my head
carefully watching my steps to avoid the shards of glass scattered across the floor
leftover pieces of my heart that you forgot to pick up, the heart you said was yours
our paintings, you left those too
embarrassingly enough, for my birthday all i wanted was a text from you
eventually things got easier though, or maybe i just got distracted by the bells and whistles of life’s orchestration
you’ve given me no closure yet endless confirmation
unremitting sobs and no one to talk to
everyone was sick of hearing of my suffering, it was awful
then the hurt started to leave, and arose the confusion
how could you pretend? how wasn’t it real? was it all an illusion?
was i just another girl to you? how could my everything be nothing to you?
silly little questions that i realized i’ll never find answers to
because i evidently don’t know your heart, i don’t even think you do
the confusion was cut short along with my livelihood when i was met with you know what
funny, it’s actually only you who knows what
do you know what?
don’t you care?
it doesn’t matter if you do anyways, evidently you lied when you said with you i could always share
now, i still see your face when i walk around my house
it scared me when i tried to remember the sound of your voice and it was faint as a mouse
yesterday i passed the photobooth we took those cute pictures in
the ones i had hanging on my wall
i took them down, but i still look at them everytime i have no one to call
i look and remember when i had you and for that i am grateful enough
i won’t lie and say i’m completely over it, because anyone could call my bluff
i am becoming empty now, i actually understand you more
things hurt less and i’m no longer frazzled when people walk out the door
i’m starting to get back to okay again, but its an ephemeral feeling
shortlived by the memories and remembrance
its mostly emptiness though
mostly nothing
just like you
i guess nothings been the same
not since you left