Sometimes I follow faded stars
Lost lonely souls with jaded hearts
But brilliant minds indigo smarts
Full of wisdom despite their scars
The beautiful ones have stories
Some of victory of green glory
But personally I prefer the gory
Truth of failure to be less boring
Life makes you like a dog collar
Is strangling neck so tight you holler
Despite experience status as scholar
No matter your position in beauty parlor
For beauty is a burning boisterous blade
that cuts two ways leaves you spayed
For others see you and miscalculate
The pain you have inside is dead weight
Yet there is a deadly denim denial
In creases of your courageous smile
They always tell you to be proud
To turn a bloody frown upside down
A faded star with a hole in red heart
Has adjusted to the irony and dark
Paths sarcastic laughs of lone sharks
Feeding on energy from the flower park
Not all pretty faces will win the rat race
Someone left behind must lead the way
For the rebuilding of the hearts that break
For the sacrificial lambs that find faith
In beauty parlor
Don’t need the charm of heaven
Need you love, need you in heart
Loveliness is time
Nature is nonstop for all
But valentine you are mine
© Mawlid Ganim
He’s still out there…
She said she would never speak to Aunt Mable again …
The funniest part was….
I am trying not to listen, and doing a great job apparently
Because I am catching tiny little bits of everybody’s conversation.
There are several old ladies here getting their hair fixed.
There is gossip coming out of their mouths,
but no matter how hard I try, I only hear sliver and slices.
My kids are glad Mrs. Brown is….
If I ever see him do that again, I will…
He’s sleeping with her best friend! They are both pregnant!
This perks me up. Who? Who? WHO?
I strain to hear more but beautician is dunking me under a faucet now.
I do not know how they stand it! An old lady says I would cut off his....
I am finally finished.
My husband stands to go.
You look great he says
I burst into tears.
I have nothing to share at church on Sunday.
Stranger
I never really met him
But I know him
I know his face in profile
The furrows of his brow
I’ve seen it enough times
At Barnes & Noble browsing Asimov
I’ve seen him
Leaving the loft
Watched his hands
Holding the door
For his momma at the beauty parlor
He always tips the stylist who frosts his mamma’s grays
The other day I just missed him
Leaving the last row of the church pews
The handout he left behind was still warm
His pencil still on the floor beneath the ancient wooden bench
And on Tuesday, I watched him do a coffee run
for the guys at the office
I know it was him
I floated in on his Perry Ellis
He takes his coffee black with extra sugar
He goes running on Saturday mornings rain or shine
Always listening to Miles
I still hear the bass echo in the trees
He has his board meeting
Every third Thursday
I know ‘cause he always picks up his dolce suit
Every third Wednesday
Then stops for a fade
Spends an hour with his boys
If I time it just right
I might get lucky
And bump into him
Accidentally of course
I betta’ do it this Sunday
‘Cause this Monday
Is his first date
With the chick who frosts his mamma’s grays
Women at the beauty parlor wear tin foil on their heads.
It makes them look like aliens from the TV shows of the 50’s
In a contest for space woman of the day
They wear fleece pajama pants too,
And their faces are pierced.
None care what they look like.
Few can keep a confidence either.
Nothing is sacred or secret.
Every confidence is shared, in a witty,
Upbeat, happy “you have to hear this” kind of way.
I sit there for hours sometimes,
Not making an appointment or keeping one,
Slyly accessing their stories.
I just ran into Miss Bear,
At the beauty parlor frosting her hair,
Says she's been there all day,
Trying to hide that pesky gray.
Said she has a date with Mr. Porcupine,
Looking later for a good steak and some nice red wine,
Despite the pain of her claws and his quills,
Their romance has been a great thrill.
Every time they get up and dance,
She plucks the quills from her pants.
That porcupine can really cut the rug,
And bear gives the best hugs.
Love conquers all and they will be fine,
Even for a bear and a porcupine,
Their love is an affair of the heart,
Close enough to kiss but still apart.
When clouds emerge from their bedrooms
they sail, hug and kiss one another mid-air
beautiful costumes they wear as on wedding trip
cotton-white, golden dark silver lined-amazing!
Matching in formation as girls in beauty parlor
flash eyes, drum nice melodies, spread attire
herdsmen and travelers enter bitter argument
some say; beauty dangerous; others beauty gracious
Let them wear anger in faces. No joking anymore
beautiful arrows they shoot at everything on earth
humans run in hiding, branches sway, leaves whistle
no creature brave enough to fire back any arrow
Amazing beauty lives up there with the clouds
no human has ability to parade them in contest
I own a beauty parlor but I always get things wrong.
Last week I left a lady under the dryer far too long.
She was under the dryer for hours and it fried her brain.
They put her in a funny farm because I drove her insane.
When I dyed a woman's hair, it turned green.
I soon met her family and they are mean.
They made me eat shaving cream and it made me vomit.
Then they grabbed my underwear and gave me a wedgie that was atomic.
They kicked my scrawny ass and and broke my fingers so that I couldn't call the cops.
I think you'll agree that the time has come for me to sell my shop.
(This is a fictional poem.)
I shall daily visit the beauty parlor
And make myself beautiful for you.
I shall never clean the house
So that my skin is not tarred.
I shall ever watch my figure,
Eating calorie less foods and drinks.
I shall stay home all day
And will never be stay at home mom
But will go for Disco at night.
I shall not take drugs
But a drink or two in limits.
I shall awake late in the morning
So that you are not disturbed.
I shall adorn the house to earn
Adjectives from the neighbours.
I shall buy the furniture to invent
Nouns to be told to the visitors.
Our house will be all pronouns
But will never admit verbs as
They shake the very foundation.
=========================
Honorable Mention
Contest: Fill in the Blanks
You assume I am happy
at the mall, at the beauty parlor,
at the cocktail afternoons with the girls.
Look in your wallet.
The plastic cards
don't say, "I Love You!"
My goodness but its hot
I'm wringing wet.
"Women perspire," he said,
"only men sweat."
Well, guess again buddy
maybe la-de-dah ladies perspire,
but Real Women sweat
and right now I'm on fire.
In high school my mother
would take me to the beauty parlor
to get me a fancy dance doo
and then later I'd hollar
Because after a dance or two,
my hair would be dripping wet.
I was so embarrassed
all covered with sweat.
Air conditioning is just too cold
and it smells funny,
so I sit in front of a fan
when it gets too sunny.
But running out for chores
in 90-degree heat
is no fun at all
I just come home beat.
So you'all have a good summer ...
and I still say it yet ...
that ladies may perspire,
but Real Women sweat.
I shall daily visit the beauty parlor
And make myself beautiful for you.
I shall never clean the house
So that my skin is not tarred.
I shall ever watch my figure,
Eating calorie less foods and drinks.
I shall stay home all day
And will never be stay at home mom
But will go for Disco at night.
I shall not take drugs
But a drink or two in limits.
I shall awake late in the morning
So that you are not disturbed.
I shall adorn the house to earn
Adjectives from the neighbours.
I shall buy the furniture to invent
Nouns to be told to the visitors.
Our house will be all pronouns
But will never admit verbs as
They shake the very foundation.
*** I wrote this poem much earlier noticing a young married woman of a modest family adopting the modern living going astray from the household chores *** Based on a real
person.
The poem was posted on 1/16/2007
========================
Dr. Ram Mehta
Tenth place win in:
Contest: Any Twisted Poem sponsored by Destroyer A Poet
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.