Best Barbershop Poems
Old Mr. Nicholson
totters across the town square
to the barbershop where
Clive has cut his hair
for the last forty years or so
Not hardly needing
even a trim
but pretending
he has a reason besides
the gossip waiting within
Inside, the shop smells like hair tonic
shaving cream and old leather
and the only noticeable things
that Clive's changed
in the last forty years
are the calendar, magazines
and gumball machine
Tall and gaunt, Clive stoops and
shuffles around the shop
a bit slow and shaky, but still
the cheapest and best around
as he drawls out the latest
scuttlebutt from all over town
Harry Van Hoorn leans
sideways in the old barber chair
hanging on every word like an old hound
ears flapping in the breeze
making an odd squinchy face as he
holds back a sneeze
bits of loose hair tickling his nose
While old Arnie Bruner
broods in the corner
his usual sour-faced self
like an old prune
all wrinkled and dried up
without a single good thing to say
“Well, hello Ed!” Clive stops and says
as Mr. Nicholson sidles in
he amiably waves his comb in the air
continuing to work on Harry's hair
thoroughly ignored as he
continues to speak
“Long time, no see!” Harry sings out
even though they were both
in here just last week
“Hiya Harry!” Mr. Nicholson says
in his high-pitched little whine
“Have you heard about-”
“Oh wait, lemme guess-” Arnie breaks in
in his growly bass
“...it's about that place... next door to-”
“Jim and Grace” Harry cuts in
“No, I was going to say-”
Mr. Nicholson chirps
a bit snappily
“It must be about Jenny Mae...”
Harry chortles gleefully
“No, it's gotta be about Faye!-”
Arnie belts out grumpily
Meanwhile, they're missing
all the scorching details
of the greatest scandal
as Clive croons on
amid the din
of his gabby, blabby customers
each desperate
to get a word in
Back and forth, in and out
with bickers and shouts
hums, warbles, trills, groans
solos and accidental duets
their crazy cacophony has become
a funny (albeit gossipy) kind
of barbershop quartet!
THE BARBERSHOP QUARTET
The barbershop quartet, mustache brushes in hand.
A Capella joviality, with torquing wrists, snapping fingers.
Bristles foaming, silky white and smooth, voices grand.
Dapper in their pinstripe suits, hats — Delmonico brand.
Sweet Adeline, drawn out. My Adeline — peaks, lingers.
The barbershop quartet, mustache brushes in hand.
Choreography matchless with their sugar-cane wands.
One by one they tap and score with lighthearted zingers.
Bristles foaming, silky white and smooth, voices grand.
Bass, lead, baritone and tenor glitz altogether stand,
Impressing the country stage — these polished singers.
The barbershop quartet, mustache brushes in hand.
Differences overlooked, blend of ringing chords command.
Friendship in angelic voice, grooming of youthful wingers.*
Bristles foaming, silky white and smooth, voices grand.
Brothers in harmony, gathering precious social sand.
Through time, the dusty chair spins and memories linger.
The barbershop quartet, mustache brushes in hand —
Bristles foaming, silky white and smooth, voices grand.
4/25/2018
*wingers - I am using to describe the new set of kids who
practice “wing it”
Sweet Adeline written by Richard Gerard
A cluttered barbershop in my old hometown I fondly call to mind,
Was a gathering place to loaf and socialize, a great place to unwind!
Harry, the barber, kept farmers, the local rabble and boys like me,
Looking right smart, clipping hair and shaving necks for a two-bit fee!
Outside, as raging winter storms amassed piles of drifting snow,
The old pot-bellied stove radiated warmth setting hearts aglow!
The shop rang with debates about politics and the charms of local females.
Hiding behind a comic book I learned some mighty intriguing details!
Harry's shop had just one old wrought-iron footrest barber's chair.
Thereupon hung a strop with which he honed razors with flair.
In a cream-colored cabinet, Harry stored the tools of his trade;
Brushes, straight razors, shaving cups and pungent oils of pomade!
Wall posters depicted sports figures and women scantily clad,
Also, ads for Vitalis, Brylcreem and other concoctions to be had.
In the back was a room where ne'er-do-wells usually hung around,
Enjoying a smoke or playing checkers - fellowship would abound!
Adding to the cozy setting was Harry's inscrutable cat.
No one dared move him from the chair where he always sat!
Harry and his quaint barbershop are now forever gone,
But to the memory of those simpler times I will e'er be drawn!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Welcome to my barber shop,
Owned by the late Puddin' Pop.
That's my dad's picture in the frame:
Let me tell you how he earned his nickname.
Back in the summer of 1984,
My mom bought my sister and me to the store.
There was a barber shop next door,
And here's my pop. His name was William Moore.
I'm Calvin, his son; Anne is his wife;
Penny is my sister who loves Barney Fife.
"Hey, everyone," my dad said with a smile.
"I haven't seen you guys in a long while.
I just opened up my shop today:
What would you like? Let's get started right away."
My mom said, "You see this full head of hair?
Calvin looks like an afro grizzly bear.
He only needs a shape up and a little off the top."
But I was a little nervous and yelled, "No! STOP!
I don't look like no grizzly bear,
And there's no way you're getting me in that chair!"
So Mom and Dad thought of a scheme
To convince me to look fresh and clean.
Mom reached in the bag that was brought from the store.
What did she take out? I had to explore.
It was chocolate and vanilla pudding pops from Jell-O!
My sister and I were like, "HELLO!"
"Now son," said dad, "you don't need to fear.
Your mom, sister, and I are right here.
But if you want this frozen treat,
Stop your bawling and get your booty in that seat!"
My hair had to go. I didn't have a choice,
But to obey my father's strong baritone voice.
After 15 minutes, it wasn't so bad:
I received my first haircut from my dear old dad.
My mom paid $10 and gave me my dessert;
I was so happy, even with the stains on my shirt.
For almost 15 years, we've been going over there
To get rid of my so-called "afro grizzly bear hair".
Sadly, my Puddin' Pop passed away.
But his barber shop is still standing today.
There's been a minor change since he passed on:
Now it's a barber shop and a beauty salon.
My sister and I own both of these places
And loves the smiles on our customers' faces.
Every time we open our shops for the crowd,
I know in my heart that we've done our dad proud.
That's the story of this awesome barber shop.
Thanks for everything, Puddin' Pop.
Through the window you can see him there,
shaving whiskers and trimming hair.
Red and white swirling outside the door,
as hair drifts skittering across the floor.
He stands all day, he works so hard
dreaming of a sunbath out in his yard.
The little girl waits with broom in hand,
for the Barber to give the sweep command.
And on Sunday, his day of rest,
he let her do what she liked best.
He sat and read in his rocking chair,
while she braided ribbons into his wisps of hair.
Lelah Walters
10/10/09
barbershop quartet
Dick Tom Jerry Chet
singing in harmony
a gorgeous melody
old school singing
their voices ringing
dressed identically
next choice they all agree
Good ole Dick Tom Jerry Chet
Get along super well I bet
all my favorite oldies sung
I feel refreshed when they’re done