Michael Coy Poet Rhyme

Hair

(not so much a hippie musical,
more a Spenserian stanza)

I’m ‘follically-challenged’, as it’s called
within this non-judgmental modern world:
my mother has a balder term – I’m bald.
Upon a scene of sex-gods am I hurled,
unloved, uncombed, unpomaded, uncurled!
How many ball-caps can a grown man wear?
I won’t be Frank Sinatra’d, Milton Berled:
I won’t wear someone else’s luscious hair.
At school they said, “Nice head – but nothing there!”

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Andrea Dietrich November 3, 2025 at 1:15 AM I think this would be such a difficult thing if I were a man having to endure it. I would be doing those hair plug things, whatever worked best because i can't imagine going bald. My poor hubbie went bald in his 30's so it's really not such a big deal. Anyway, I love your humorous take on it. Congrats. Michael Coy November 3, 2025 at 1:20 AM Andrea, you always write such nice reviews! Thank you very much. Michael