Washroom Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Shadowkin

I remember crying in that washroom stall.
After they broke down my strongest wall.
They read aloud my crush in my journal.
Made me so embarrassed without console.

I remember dying a little on the inside:
Every single time my circuits would override.
They, my family, would save me everytime.
Made me all the more grateful for their time.

I remember how every funeral made me feel.
Over time I come to know death isn't real.
They watch over all of us for a while,
Until they must be reborn phoenix-style.

I remember seeing a shadow of a hat man.
Though I was scared back then,
I look back, and consider him an old friend.
Maybe I'll go as a shadowkin in the end.

A Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality


A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance 
to your steps, as you walk the tightrope of life.
Quote  By William Arthur Ward 

We were young and filled with responsibilities 
new to town, married and in our early twenties 
My husband needed surgery and I didn't drive 
with two small kids I had to find a way to jive 

When I got to the hospital I bought him a souvenir
one big fury ape with a grin that said, "I'm here! " 
He wasn't in bed so I put the ape in bed instead 
a nurse came in, she almost fell over with dread 

He came out of the washroom and found  it there 
when it comes to humor we make quite a pair 
He soon recovered and the ape came live with us 
I took driving lessons, now I don't take the bus 

This is a true story of how I used humor to cope 
years have come and gone still I climb the slope 
Using humor in a crisis can surely help my dear,  
it can ease the soul and help you when you fear.

Shadowed Games


Shadow Games

While my back was turned, you slipped into the store,
Went to the washroom, then out once more.
You could’ve retraced your steps, stayed out of sight,
But you leapt the chain—made sure I’d catch the sight.

You lingered at the door, a ghostly trace,
A fading whisper with a hollow face.
What brought you here to haunt my day?
A question that simply won’t fade away.

You played your part, a fleeting flame,
Four months of warmth then cold with blame.
Your caring ways  was merely a disguise,
Before you cut me down with an icy goodbye.

You turned to ink, your spite set free,
Penned  your poison for all to see.
An “OLEFOWL from Penal,” you bitterly said,
Twisting words, calling me ugly instead.

You mocked my name, spoke of wood,
Called me mad—just as you would.
You whispered lies about me to my relative
using venomous word dripping with fear.

You’ll read these lines, I know you will,
Clinging to your shattered thrill.
Your fractured mind deflects your pain—
Blaming me while chaos still remains.


written by mjm 2025/march


Premium Member When I Bring Home a Deer

When I bring home a deer...
to live in our living room, my roommate
won't hear of it. Fear of what? I will ask.
He has no horns. He eats only oats, but
not yours only; I bought him some food.

He's not even hairy. I'm not even sorry
I brought him home. He'll sleep with me
on the floor of the washroom. I'll wash
him down with a hose and a broom.

I suppose you think there's no room
for a deer without antlers (as dear
as he is). What do you want?  I should
bring home a goat?

Premium Member Fries And Burgers

Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word
Too many fries, too many burgs

When will I learn I can't handle that stuff
Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss

Once could eat nails and all kinds of gunk
Now I eat mush and ground junk

My teeth are all gone, can't chew anymore
Things go down whole, my tummy gets sore

So such is the life of this senior type dude
Head for the washroom, each time I eat food

Food disappears like famous greased lightning
Or I sit there for hours, really quite frightening

Irregularity's my name, I'm “IRREG” for short
Hope an operation, I don't have to resort

An artificial esophagus transplanted in me
So I can go regular like it once used to be

Oh for the days when I could eat all that junk
Those days are gone, who woulda thunk

That one day I'd be eating my morning cereal
Laced with Metamucil or some such material!

Premium Member Strands of Disarray

Strands of hairs on floors galore,

Papers and rags strewn over the tables,

Clothes on the sofa seats,hung on the chairs,

Cobwebs and spiders on the ceilings and walls,

Moldy food and vegetables in the kitchen,

Odors emanating from the washroom,

Cars dusty,air inside impure,

Courtyards and surroundings unkempt for days,

Garbage from the house dumped at the roadside,

Thrown on the drains, rills and rivers,

Perfumes and beauty products everywhere


Premium Member Holding With Tears


It was a fine porcelain washroom art,
ravaging time broke the pieces apart.
   Water from faucet still flows,   
   clings to smashed frame of friend close,
just like I hold with tears my broken heart.

Premium Member Shisha

Suddenly aroma of sweet shisha flew from across the room,
As I walk out of hot-boxed washroom, and into the living room,
I see love of my life in a chair far across the room.

The Case of the Missing Socks

Dear Curious Youth

And inquisitive Sleuth

I present to you a quandary


A baffling report    

An enigma of sort

Whenever I do my laundry


It’s quite odd enough

That some certain stuff

Go missing before I’m through


Between warm, rinse and cold

Sort, hang and fold

I find one sock instead of two.


Despite diligent seeking

Specifically speaking

And searching high and low


And just to be clear

I have no idea

Where the missing sock might go
 

So I’m left empty handed

Or single-sock stranded

And am leaving you in charge


So you my dear friend

May soon apprehend

This sock-napping culprit at large
 

I must soon leave this place

And commence my next case

Please continue with my query


But before I go

You ought to know

I’ve formulated a theory


Just thinking this through

And an evidence review

Consider this please, I beg


It’s rough and brief

But the brazen thief

Might only have one leg!
 

Be smart and reflective

My washroom detective

It’s now entirely up to you
 

To determine the fate

Of this Laundry-gate

Your Good Friend, 

Nancy Drew

Premium Member what about pink we wondered

Everything was pink for Zee when she was a child
Hot pink, light pink, medium pink, nothing blah or mild
Pink bed, pink pillow, pink closet, pink clothes, pink doll
If it was not pink, Zee simply did not want it at all

Imagine our shock when she joined the military at eighteen
Our princess was now a soldier, which was quite unforeseen.
She trained to be all black and white, there was no pink or gray.
We watched her boot camp video, laughing our guts away.

Zee got a corporate job, and rose straight to the top.
Her career was the best, it seemed her success would never stop.
What about pink? We wondered. Where is the pink now?
In her corporate washroom we found a pink toilet, it was a wow.

Not only pink, but shaped like an enormous kitty too.
You cannot leave yet we’d say; you have to use the loo.
Our daughter would roll her eyes, thinking we were crazy.
But we all wanted to see the toilet, designed by our Zee.

Premium Member What About Pink

Everything was pink for Zee when she was a child
Hot pink, light pink, medium pink, nothing blah or mild
Pink bed, pink pillow, pink closet, pink clothes, pink doll
If it was not pink, Zee simply did not want it at all

Imagine our shock when she joined the military at eighteen
Our princess was now a soldier, which was quite unforeseen.
She trained to be all black and white, there was no pink or gray.
We watched her boot camp video, laughing our guts away.

Zee got a corporate job, and rose straight to the top.
Her career was the best, it seemed her success would never stop.
What about pink? We wondered. Where is the pink now?
In her corporate washroom we found a pink toilet, it was a wow.

Not only pink, but shaped like an enormous kitty too.
You cannot leave yet we’d say; you have to use the loo.
Our daughter would roll her eyes, thinking we were crazy.
But we all wanted to see the toilet, designed by our Zee.

Your Name

I don't dream anymore
I am ugly without you.
I don't live anymore.
I am incomplete without you.
I am lonely
Like when my mother used to go out
When I was little child.
My life stopped when you were leaving me
I don't live anymore.
I am unhappy.
Perfectly not fine.
Your love is killing me slowly
And if it goes on like this
I would die alone
Like an orphan
In the washroom.
I sit accompanied by my despair
Can't feel anything past seven.
Echoing through my heart
Your name, your name.
And I cried, I shouted
Don't go away please, please.

Audio Bugs and Hidden Cameras

Supari type thugs often use spy gadgets,audio bugs and hidden cameras to record audio and video.Spy gadgets are available in the shape of internet modem,usb device,mobile charger,energy saver,switch socket,Lcd,TV, trolley, Writing Pen,Ladies Purse,Suit Button,Hand watch,Head Cap,AC,Glasses,flower pot,cloth hanger and washroom mirror.Spy gadgets need electricity to work and that is why they are often attached with internet and telecommunication devices.
Spy gadgets are planted in the Lounge,home,office,guest house and hotel rooms.
Note.Grow up Dude no dues are Left...

Premium Member Fear of Death

Fear of death shadows me like clouds of rain.
When fiercely I indulge in deeds so worth;
Like fountains brim-fill within ceaseless pain,
With grim queries: What's life? Why is this birth?

My mother went, like bloom-fades, with no sound,
I saw, so roughly, my father's goal end;
My kids too, like dead butterflies, I found,
It's, hence, I fear death; He is not my friend...!

Will he knock me down when I freely walk?
Will he chock my breath when I have a snack?
Will my veneered washroom witness his shock?
Or, all these, like volcanoes, wisdom crack?

Midst these, I sow; harvest: gather, in vain,
Fear of death shadows me like clouds of rain.


12 May 
Orphan Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet

Premium Member The Pefectionist - Hlm

my friend is thorough
doing things he has his way… 
praise is what he wants

He is a perfectionist, not a crack,
each night before starting to stride the track
he enters the washroom
to diligently groom,
returns to find his wife has hit the sack.

he has turned into narcissus, carrying his marriage on the rocks

__________________

January 30, 2022
Syllable count checked on PS Counter
Contest : Charlie Hai-Lim-Ku
Sponsored By : Charles Messina

Sub Categories

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace