Best Bald Headed Poems
My Blood Bleeds Sand
My blood bleeds sand,
That golden sugar that spreads
Across the wandering West
Where purple sage dots, and
There a tarantula spreads atop
A random hill.
Where blazing and blinking stars light
Black blue skies.
And stupendous sunsets
Color and shadow sand mounds
Like bald-headed men, and
A free blowing wind carries the howls and dances of
Long ago chief and squaw.
Where prickly pears bear red wax blossoms, and
Mescal thrusts and thirsts to the clouds
Over tracks of slithering snakes.
And whistling wails in moonlight beams
Echo ancient wagon songs
Where I belong.
My blood bleeds sand.
"I wandered lonely as a cloud"--- By William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a tramp,
Far, far away from all human habitats
Away from all prying eyes
Following the bent
Of my vagrant inclination;
Into Nature’s sylvan pockets
To places studded with trees
To the tranquil bosom of the woods
Onto the heights of bald headed hills
Where shrubs struggle to strike root
From the cleft of rocks and ledges
Where in hollows, wild bushes grow in clusters
To watch the shreds of hovering mist
To gaze upon piles of sailing clouds
To shout loud and whistle long
And to listen to the hills
Mimicking my own sound
There I will hop and jump,
Like a sprightly forest fawn,
As I don’t fear
Either the silently gliding streams,
Or the clump of swaying trees,
The host of wild flowers,
Or the monstrous mossy rocks,
Either the birds or the beasts
Never will they watch my cranky pranks
And call me a loony
As here my own men might do!
September 19, 2022
Written for the contest, I Wandered Lonely As _ Challenge
Sponsor, Natasha L Scragg
Judged on 9/24/2022
I spoke to the sea,
a calm breath
though a gale raged
inside of me – both my
sails shredded, I begged
for mercy:
“Thou art the greatest world current,
what brag would be a wretched notch
like me!? Devourer of coasts!
Reshaper of vast continents! Bane
of man’s mightiest fleets! Countless
formidable have foolishly challenged thee, and now
lie silent in your crushing depths...were I
added to such esteem numbers,
a bald-headed, gray bearded, toothless
old dote, it would be a disgrace~
better toss me high into the
air, toward that island over there, for
unlike you, Great Wet Majesty, crocodiles
and lizards have no pride; then there
not be shame of yours to hide –
promise, never will I return….”
and this, dear children, is why
grandpa cannot take you fishing --
There was an elusive little guy often espied during World War Two,
And who he was and whence he came no one ever really knew!
He was a bald headed little feller with a very prominent nose,
And he always left the message "Kilroy Was Here" in very stilted prose!
You seldom saw his eyes and his hands were clinging to a wall.
Many G.I.s saw him in latrine stalls and in their greasy dining hall!
His origin and parting message are debated to this very day,
And no one has ever nabbed the graffiti artists who always slunk away!
He was portrayed in cruisers, battleships and even on submarines!
Kilroy's portrait was tattooed on the chests of a few diehard Marines!
'Tis said Hitler saw "Kilroy Was Here" and wondered what it meant,
Thinking it a secret code when found on American accouterment!
Kilroy became as famous as the mysterious smile on the Mona Lisa.
(I even saw his mug when I climbed to the top of the Tower of Pisa!)
Rosie the Riveter may have been guilty, if the truth were told,
Of tracing Kilroy's image on bombers, including the bomb bay hold!
Well, 'tis for sure we couldn't have won the war without the little guy!
Kilroy's antics lifted morale at home and overseas, that you can't deny!
But you haven't seen the last of him, for he is forever etched in history,
On the World War Two Monument in DC - how he got there is a mystery!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
For those a tad younger who may have never heard of Kilroy, go to your search
and type in "Kilroy Was Here" and click the Wikipedia notation and you will learn
more than you ever wanted to know about him!
Once a bald-headed man
was holding a can.
He tripped and went down
fell on his crown.
He had a massive sore
but was more than sorry
when he read this and
didn't like the way
that I wrote for you
his story.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2014
10.11.2014
When I was a mere lad, my Dad always cut my hair,
But as I reached my teens and became much more debonair,
To the bald-headed barber I whizzed in my old hometown,
Seated myself in his chair and plopped my quarter down!
I had never been a paying client at a barber shop before,
So I asked about that red, white and blue pole spinning by the door.
Said he, "It was a sign for barbers doing surgery in the olden day!"
At that I gulped, almost choked and turned a sickly gray!
Done with my hair, he'd shave my neck and brush on lots of powder,
And liberally douse my scalp with Vitalis - I couldn't have been prouder!
His shop reeked of pungent oils and stale tobacco smoke,
It was all I could do to sit there, trying to stifle a choke!
The town barber shop was a place to gossip and hear inane babble,
And was the local hangout for ne'er-do-wells and other idle rabble.
The risque banter invading my naive and delicate ears,
Gave me an education far beyond my tender years!
The tales I heard were of the local women, booze and such.
Though I had some inkling, I didn't understand all that much!
Had my dear devout Mother known what transpired there,
I suspect she would've insisted that Dad continue to clip my hair!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
UUUUUHhhhhh!!!!!
I woke up this morning to find I am bald,
Wear glasses and only 5foot 7 tall.
Me bodies out of shape and what is more,
Me bits are all shrivelled, scaly and small.
Who the hell says life begins at forty,
I’m a blind, toothless bald headed shorty.
Which woman is going to throw themselves at me,
She will have to be blond and rely on a dog to see.
I walk up the stairs and stop half way,
Me hearts pumping mad saying “lets call it a day.”
Me **** started making these terrible smelly sounds,
And parts of me body are having a race, the first to touch the ground.
I now need Viagra to turn me into a yup
Or scaffolding under to prop me bits up
Foreplay is leave me teeth in the glass
The climax of me sex life is squeezing a pimple on me ass
Oh youth where art thou,
You left me in a mess.
I look in the mirror and cuss with every breath,
I’ve turned into an obese belch farting sow.
And they say life begins at forty, with a body like this tell me how?
** It has been brought to my attention that I should not have used "blond" so if you are blond please change it in your mind to blind, thank you :-)
slam it to me punk you think you’re so cool
this bald headed old fart will take you to school
you think you’re the first generation to revolt
if you read a history book you’d know that’s a joke
yes that’s a joke
go ahead punk – take a poke
hell i was sitting down in a war protest strike
while guardsmen flexed their muscles and sticks of the night
don’t talk to me about your troubled young fate
until you’ve been through a night like at Kent State
people died there
shot by the man
four college kids killed right where they stand
go ahead shout, curse and be rude
show me your underwear and your attitude
pretend you’re real mean and ain’t scared a nuthin
brag like you think you can beat out my stuffin
i’m an old fart of fifty plus years
i’ve already shed an ocean of tears
i aint got nothing much left to loose
which is what makes me much more dangerous than yous
pain ain’t nothin when you’ve had a rectal exam
you think you can scare me more than the doctor can?
think again
young man
i’ll slam your slam
this ain’t writing
it ain’t exciting
its simply yelling and telling lies of being tough
it ain’t enough
now go write some good stuff
you think this stuff makes you a hero
you think it ain’t conforming to norms?
you’re a real zero
you aint the first
heck you might be the worst
you are just replicating
duplicating
other punks beat you to it
now write a sonnet – if you can do it
you’d be the only punk out on that island
that would make you brave
make you stand out
give you some clout
if you could do it
but you can’t can you
instead you say you’re one of a kind
don’t waste my mind
you think I’m blind
i’ve seen it before
you’re just a slam whore
easy to ignore
i’ll slam your slam
now go jam my jam
I'll always be a poet
I'll always breathe
dance and weave
I'll always be a poet
who wanders into the shadows
where I will live and I die
and in those moments of pain
I'll drink to him
yes I'll drink to my hero in the sky
my dad, who left his body
some 15 years ago
he's my all time hero
I know he checks in with me
from time to time
and this I know for sure
he's always
deep inside my heart
dad, I love you
dad, I miss you
dad, I'll soon be seeing you soon.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Ladies & gentlemen, NSA, GCHQ, MI5/6 & MOSSAD ;)
My dad battled with lung, prostate and skin cancer and left his body at the age of 81. We shared a beautiful final 10 years and I know he keeps an eye on me ! He had a wacky sense of humor which I have inherited ! His catchphrase was - 'I'm looking for a bald headed blonde ! '
ADDITIONAL NOTE'S:
I have, with the wonderful assistance of my wife Nikki published my first Kindle book of poetry, it contains a selection of never before seen, four lined poems. The title is Words For You - Lenny Gazbowski.
Ron desperately wanted to have a girlfriend
He’d looked after his old mum right till the end
Ron was a tall and extremely attractive guy
Unfortunately poor Ron was so terribly shy
He saw a poster in a window for a single’s night
There’d be lots of ladies, it seemed just right
He phoned the organiser, her name was Eva
She’d greet him at the door; he couldn’t wait to meet her
Eva smiled when she saw Ron’s handsome face
with her skin-tight dress he baulked at her embrace
Her huge breasts looked like two bald headed men
He extracted himself; so he could breathe again!
Tables for two were set up around the room
Scented candles gave off a lovely perfume
Ron sat down at a table in search of a date
Would he be lucky and meet his soul mate?
Big Beryl sat down; she had such bad halitosis
She covered her mouth hoping Ron wouldn’t notice
The moment she spoke poor Ron got a foul blast
When their time was up; Ron moved seats - fast!
Then next he met Ann; she was obsessed with her pussy
He would only eat Whiskas; her Tom was ever so fussy
But any hope of romance they had to defer
As Ron had an allergy to animal fur
Butch Bertha said she preferred women to guys
Ron thought it a pity as she had such lovely eyes
Her mother had forced her to go out that night
They both agreed a date just wouldn’t be right
Mavis nervously sat down, she was painfully thin
From the smell of her breath, she’d been hitting the gin
She said she’d had a tipple to steady her nerves
And she’d got her hip flask if she needed reserves!
Ron began to think speed dating contrary
Then a beauty arrived, her name was Mary
Pretty in pink she stood out from the crowd
She was shy and demure and she wasn’t too loud
Ron hesitantly asked Mary if he could give her a call
And their very first date was at the local dance hall
At the end of the night they shared their first kiss
Now they’re happily married and life is just bliss
09-27-17
A bald-headed man from Jamaica
Attempted to scale a sky-scraper
From his hospital bed
He was heard to have said
‘I was seeking a hair-raising caper!
Bite Size Poem No.42 Poetry Contest
Sponsor :Line Gautier
Here's another story about Granny
I think she's probably done it all
This was way back during prohibition
When they outlawed alcohol
See, my granny was a moonshiner
This is about her very first still
She had to make sure no revenuers
Came snoopin' around her hill
So she set up fifty-one booby traps
Now It wasn't nothing too bad
But anyone caught snoopin' around
Would probably wish they never had
See, my granny was like Davy Crockett
She killed a bear when she was only three
Well, a limb fell and hit him on the head
While Granny was climbing up a tree
Anyway, back to the moonshine still
Granny made that still all by herself
With some things she found in the yard
And copper tubing she found on the shelf
Now my granny didn't make ordinary shine
Hers was something a little more special
See, she didn't put it in old clay jugs
This took a different kind of vessel
Now, Granny's shine was known world wide
They came from everywhere
They're were even a few bald headed guys
That swore that it made them grow hair
Now my granny's secret recipe, was one of a kind
I could tell you, but you would probably disappear
So it's better that I keep this secret a secret
Cause my granny has some real good ears
Then late one night, a revenuer came
He was fixin' to take my granny to jail
Til he stepped in one of her booby traps
And started screaming about the horrible smell
See my granny had put some skunk pee
Inside one of those booby traps
And when they stepped on one of her triggers
It squirted it all over their laps
Well, prohibition finally ended
They called Granny the "Moonshine Queen"
That little old lady never got caught
And was the richest moonshiner I've ever seen
The hands on the clock make a perfect ‘V’ now
As I watch from the rigid green chair.
He sits next to me, eyes narrowed, foot tapping.
Opposite, a bald headed man winces.
The child in the corner cries for his mum
while she absently reads ‘ok’.
Stark fluorescents blink, blithely
Ignoring the anxiety beneath
The brisk nurse nods and calls my name, heralding
the longed-for, loathsome moment.
The doctor with the unfathomable face
holds my future in his folder.
Back home, the cup rattles in its saucer
Form:
When fairy tales were in fashion, before true love was rare,
A prince wooed a maid who was flaxen and fair.
He came every day and patiently knelt
Before the dark tower wherein his love dwelt.
He'd call out, "Rapunzel, oh, show me you care,
And let down a ladder of your golden hair."
This scene re-enacted for forty long years,
His plaintive pleas ever falling upon unheeding ears.
But one winter's day, very bitter and cold,
The prince puzzled to fathom what his eyes did behold.
Overnight, it appeared, her hair came unbound
And the tresses lay scattered all over the ground.
As he gazed at those sad locks, his poor heart was torn,
Was his loved one now bald, her long hair shortly shorn?
Then the prince felt a chill shoot right down to his boots,
He perceived that the gold was quite black at the roots.
Suddenly down came a note in a filigreed cup,
"I can't hear the doorbell, so just come on up."
"Are you freaking kidding me?" he cried, quite beside himself.
"My perfect Rapunzel is bald-headed…and deaf?"
Much chagrined, he charged in, but the higher he climbed,
His ire waned at the prospect of the treasure he'd find.
He opined she'd be virtuous, angelic, demure,
But then he stopped dead in his tracks at the door.
The crone he encountered at the top of the stair
Was morbidly fat, and far, far from fair.
The prince blanched at the warts and stiff hairs on her chin,
As she lewdly, and nudely, gestured him in.
She lay draped on a bed wearing only a smile,
But a true prince is immune to lascivious wiles.
While most heroes in such tales are stalwart and stout,
This one raced to the casement and flung himself out.
As he plunged to his doom from that horrible room,
And ever nearer beneath him he watched the earth loom,
The prince yelled as he fell, shook his fist, and he cursed,
"Why the heck didn't I vet her on Angie's List first?"
Stranger things beacon
these young teen agers
when a bald-headed
professor
saw them individually-telekelically
a girl a Marvel girl
she could perform miracles
can read minds nothing can be hidden
from this red head beauty
next,...
a cool tween miss guided a little mean
pick on lonely so he spend his youth
frozen, he couldn't be nice
so he was iced, a Iceman
next...
kinda athletic
sort of pathetic
funny somewhat elongated big hands
big feet
Hank the hairy Beast
next...
a hot head or should I say
He has an EYE
for destruction he had better not look at ya
Cyclops
next last but not endangered
Rich boy at least his parents are
His name he goes by is Angel
The wings on his back, shedding sometimes feathers in his lap
These teens are strange yes
Gathered together being trained in the DANGER ROOM by
Professor X
mutants in kind
Beyond humans my oh my
Together teen mesh
these are
the
XMEN
11/04/17
WRITTEN BY James Edward Lee Sr. POETMAN -->X MAN