Long Embarrassment Poems
Long Embarrassment Poems. Below are the most popular long Embarrassment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Embarrassment poems by poem length and keyword.
Growing my hair down below my knees...
stimulated courtesy follicles,
where Coconut, Olive, Grapeseed,
Jojoba, Amla and Vitamin E oils
allowed, enabled,
and provided head start
germinating peach fuzz into brown strands
after Flaxseeds, Pumpkin seeds and Fenugreek
being sprinkled on my scalp
yielded a bumper crop of hirsute weeds
occasionally tripping me up
analogous to hallucinogen
causing a public health hazard
warranting, necessitating, and goading me
to give shout out for stylist
to tender mine lovely brunette locks,
which might be repurposed into a wig
for patients undergoing chemotherapy,
or afflicted with alopecia,
(the partial or complete absence
of hair from areas of the body
where it normally grows; baldness).
As a knobby kneed, puny,
scrawny, wimpy kid whose,
(back in the nineteen sixties),
his parents decreed their singular
(painfully shy dorky, geeky and nerdy)
old school boy who sported a buzz cut,
which found him reacting and responding
(in short order rebelling)
passive aggressively by
refusing to bathe
until mommy dearest demanded
(well nigh upon
the bewitching hour of midnight)
to witness her son soaked
and essentially marinated
(until my skin shriveled like a prune)
in the (clawfoot) tub
lest he stink to high heavens,
and given a serious dressing down
by the timely principal Mister Clock.
Far back as I can remember,
the significance of hair
assumed an outsize role,
whether enviously eying other lads
their thick straight hank,
or nowadays bristling
with self reproach
cursed with thinning
greasy limp strands
(interspersed with gray)
experiencing shame being seen in public,
a disgrace to our family name of Wagstaff
and an embarrassment
to the human race
ofttimes associating
myself with Samson,
whereat emotional, physical,
and spiritual strength
rooted (pun intended)
within each hair shaft
(the visible part of the hair
that sticks out of the skin),
and rooted in the skin and extends
down to the deeper layers of the skin
surrounded by the hair follicle
(a sheath of skin
and connective tissue),
which is also connected
to a sebaceous gland.
Shatter the silence
With love there are no answers.
If you aspire to love forever, you will be disappointed;
But if you find the one, you will be given many second chances
And it will feel like you have been in love forever, with each other
And the heart you thought was dead will become reanimated.
A smile can change a life for two separated people.
A connection of the minds is the only search that matters,
For everybody needs to find their equal
And if you do meet them, you will only be able to hear the sound,
Of your two hearts, as together, like a pair of cymbals, they clatter.
Shatter the silence with a misspoken line;
A compliment has a truth hidden inside it for the other person to find.
What’s the worst that could happen? A little embarrassment?
Nothing will change without taking a chance,
So don’t hide the truth behind avoidance eyes.
Love is the sequel to a movie called lust;
What happens between two lovers can inspire us all.
It will be gone far too soon, but if you have love,
Then you will become immortalized in a memory,
Or inside a picture on a wall.
Desire is the fire that ignites the passion within our soul.
Love is the only thing that matters, so go and be brave!
You cannot ignore it for a life time,
So act on instinct and find love.
The one thing you cannot do is ask me for advice;
For I am alone.
Do what you think is right
And you will find the happiness I could never attain.
Go forth and multiply
And you will be with someone,
Who would love to give you a hug.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
standing up in a class of fifty,
offering her answers, quite gently,
will the professor think she’s nifty,
or will he think of her differently,
she blushes, though she isn’t shifty,
discombobulation, incidentally,
answering, she mumbles – befuddled,
oh, no, her answers are muddled!
Walking home from class, gusts blow.
She feels her dress rise off her form,
Baring her rear, all red – she does glow,
Embarrassed as can be by the storm,
She hopes no one will see this show –
Oh, her cheeks do feel moderately warm,
Will anyone notice her mortification?
Her naked bottom brings quite a sensation.
when she reaches her destination, she finds,
not only was her bottom seen, but snapped,
by a sneaky camera, who always reminds –
those awkward moments, when unwrapped,
prompt the owner to turn shades of red in all kinds,
marking these days where there’s laughter to be kept,
so, at least, her embarrassment is a reflection,
often found in some comedian’s photo collection!
Darkness
The Hell I live in
Forever burns, is black, and is completely alone.
It is void of sound and emotions.
I have lived here for years.
By myself.
Delivered by you.
Your narcissistic behavior brought
Me here on a black chariot.
Evil, cruel behavior cut me down.
Piece by piece is lost.
My emotional control was the first to die.
Your words were so cruel.
So cutting, a knife through my heart.
And when my heart stopped beating
you went for my self control,
What I looked like.
The world said I was beautiful.
A goddess, a queen.
But you said I was ugly. .
Then you beat you my physical body.
Broke my face. Bruises.
More words to break my self esteem.
I was awful and worthless at everything.
Had to correct even my sentences.
I can not even speak correctly.
Lastly I was not even worth leaving the house with. An embarrassment in public.
Everything is an argument.
Constantly fighting.
You took my soul.
My everything is lost.
I am a shell.
Skin and bones.
I cant think for myself.
Who am I but a ghost
In this Hell.
Wandering.
Lost.
Empty.
A prelude to a prompt quick-fire affair,
Nor ever lovelorn heart's innocent heist,
Routine good manners nor eyeful flutter,
Frisson nor frown furrowed, though deemed fairest,
A harmless hailing from the male of sex,
Nor yet the fair sex warmly acknowledging
In a casual way that tends to relax,
Whatso… all show a dearth of good old flirting.
Perhaps people are no more ruled by heart,
Maybe, their sex simmers much more in head,
Or male mystique has turned into tame art,
Gallantry’s nigh but gone, chivalry’s dead.
Seems, Venus shines dim in the evening stars,
And lost has its ruddy red, warring Mars.
______________________________________________
Sonnets | 06.10.2011 |
Poet’s note: The art of good old flirting it seems has gone almost dead. The traditional male etiquette, chivalry, and gallantry survive today only in novels of ere. An average young man has turned timid to make even an eye contact, perhaps for the fear of being charged for sexual harassment or for sheer personal embarrassment. So much as even a harmless appreciative compliment has dried down in civil society. Even in India, the land of nymphs, apsaras, naayikas, and dasis, flirting as a fine art has got all but frozen. In a somewhat humorous tone, this sonnet explores why. The answer is ventured in the Volta voicing from the 9th line.
I am stuck in an elevator with Cher, Tina Turner, Bette Midler,
Pink, Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga when
Liza Minnelli drops in from a tiny opening in the roof.
We all scream “LIZA!” and then we whip out our instruments.
To be fair, I do not have one to whip out, but I find a spoon in my purse
And a lid to a small sauce pan.
Please do not ask.
This would add to my embarrassment.
They start saying “how about this one?” until Pink wins.
We sing her songs. All of them. They stop playing in the third set.
“Who is clapping off rhythm?” It boils down to me.
The elevator roof trap door opens and Willie Nelson arrives.
He and I agree we are on rhythm
And all the rest of them are wrong.
Best elevator ride ever!
Just within reach
Pride that only a procreator can take,
life will cease to exist if else for sake,
Elated I was, to learn of the Cyesis,
recalled then the societal crisis,
A new life was just within me and my reach,
tender emotions were ready to preach,
Soul that hard struggled for reincarnation,
right denied, now rests in salvation,
Few angelic moments and then doors to hell,
close to desire, my real image I couldn't impel !
Written April 16th, 2015
For contest "Just within reach" by John Lawless
Inspired by .....
Agony of an elderly mother who wanted but could not carry her child till birth due to feared embarrassment in society
Awarded HM
Please, do not ask me...
To pee in a cup!
Oh, that divine thrill an MD commands!
To have us pee in a cup~an experience so
far from thrilling,
Especially, even more so,if your bladder is
not willing!
You have to call in an unhappy staff member,
To run the water for you, as when you
were a child, now,recall do!
And she has to sing "Tiny Bubbles in the
Water" to you, too?
More embarrassment comes, when only two
drops fall in that ignominious plastic cup.
And your name is emblazoned on the
outside of it, much like the Stanley Cup!
Perhaps, I should carry it above my head?
As the great,Wayne Gretzky once did!
To the cheers and applause of the others,
Hysterical and believing..that I truly and
Absolutely lost my lid!
Bring on the Molson, eh?
Panagiota Romios
3/9/2019
I desire nothing more than a chance;
Under my silence lies a heap of words;
And my lips never hesitate to twitch at their scratch,
As the find their way out of my heart;
But then the inner little man holds them back
Because when I speak;
The pile of bitterness comes with floods of tears,
And the bunch of dark memories is let loose.
It is the pain,the betrayal,the embarrassment,
As well as stories of my suffering as a short lady;
Who is taken for a forteen year's old.
At the hair salons,I am not welcomed;
In bars and clubs, I'm chased away like wind chases chuff,
While in malls and shops and markets attendants pay loose attention to my orders,
Saying I'm too young to decide what I want to buy,
Or they laugh at me and make fun of me,
That rats do shopping in modern Uganda;
In the end, I am denied the service I am going to pay for.
If tears could wash all this torture out,
Crying would be my hobby, trying to rid myself of it all,
But it is certainly not.
I am lady of twenty three years,
Not the forteen year's old girl you all see on my outside.
It is my short stature that says otherwise and sells me out,
But I have ripe brains as well as the maturity a woman needs.
My cat face with fat cheeks and young nose-
Which hopes to grow centuries from today,
Makes me look like I was born only yesterday at midnight;
And gives anyone the courage to look down on me.
Like you, descendant of Adam and Eve,
I am a human with freshly flowing red blood in my veins.
I am a genuine citizen of Uganda,
Who pays taxes and preserves her nature and cultures.
Growing through all the ages behind me,
I have learnt to survive in truth and love,
And so,I help bring new lives to earth,in the labor suit.
While you ignore me in your salons and shops,
And while your husbands and sons,
Who do nothing but to sit on those boda bodas;
drinking waraji tease me at the knock of opportunity,
I remain sure that I am as useful as a cow;
Yes,like Ngabo,Bihogo,Kyozi!!
Late one night on Christmas Eve
I stood out all night in the snow
Half frozen, above and below
Just hoping to hear
The sound of reindeer
When suddenly I had to go
My fingers were numb from the chill
They fumbled my zipper, but still
It moved down a bit
Enough just to fit
No matter, it had to fulfill
I made sure no one was around
A secluded spot I had found
I pulled it out slow
Then started the flow
But nothing appeared on the ground
It just didn’t go as was planned
What then did I hold in my hand
Embarrassment swelled
My shirt tail I held
And sadly I now understand
Then sleigh bells about me did ring
A fat jolly elf they would bring
And to my regret
My pants were all wet
It was an embarrassing thing
When sure enough they did advance
Eight reindeer before me did prance
They looked down to see
Then chuckled in glee
Look, that guy just peed in his pants