Best Bearded Poems
Where sweet grass blankets grow on yesterdays
And passing years weigh heavy on the trees
Serenity is found in every breeze
Unbridled dreams of youth, now hang and graze
Recalling days gone by with slower ways
Beneath the bearded oaks, time stands at ease
In search of long forgotten memories
Beyond the trail that leads into the haze
Twas here, so long ago, in summer shade
Young lovers traded dreams for purity
They took a chance their love would never fade
Two hearts were joined into futurity
Upon the sweet grass blanket, lost in dreams
Hearts filled with love and bursting at the seams
by Daniel Turner
receding darkness
uncovers
the cities cold
bright sun
on bearded snow
3/16/2015
submitted to TANKA 2 - Poetry contest
Scaly small lizard
Eats bugs, but not very often
Where’s the beard?
It has no hair
In my house there is a monster,
Who’s growing every day,
He’s usually quite happy,
In his own reptilian way.
He often watches TV,
He doesn’t care which side,
He really looks quite funny
When his mouth is open wide.
It cools him off when he is hot
He does it all the time,
Locusts are his favourite treat,
He eats them up just fine,
He munches and he crunches them,
It‘s quite a sight to watch,
But even more fascinating
Is when he makes a catch.
He might be multi-coloured,
With prickles on his tough skin,
His spiky beard can blacken,
And he makes a right old din,
I love my friendly monster,
Not everyone can say,
They have their very own dragon
To play with every day.
Let me tell you something
I live in sand
No water barely any food
Strong as a dragon
I have a beard still not old
I eat bugs all day , everyday
Always hiding from predators nowadays
I can't go to Antarctica
I'll die with a brain freeze
My skin is as rough as an alligator
Don't touch me I bite
I only can stand heat that is hot as hell
I may look like a wizard
I'm actually a lizard
BEARDED LADY
Sue woke and looked terribly weird
She’d sprouted a black bushy beard
To get rid of this look
Should she wax or just pluck
Would the re-growth be worse than feared?
Sue tweeted her best friend called Mary
(Sue knew that HER nipples were hairy)
She said try using Veet
It is very discrete …
and the re growth isn’t too scary!
The poem I posted yesterday was deep and sad ... Ilene Bauer commented she was more used to my humourous poems ... so I came up with this little ditty for her
12~29~16
the circus clown is shattered, he’s fallen on his luck,
the bearded lady left him, the romance went amok.
the ringmaster calls for him, the show must still go on,
but as the crowd now gathers, he’s really come undone.
he’s off to see the psychic, his future must be read,
before he goes too far, and someone winds up dead.
the lion tamer heard the news, he searches for his friend,
the show is almost over, the children now depend,
on seeing their favorite clown, before the show is done,
as other clowns are booed, he shows up with a gun.
as people laugh and point at him, they feel this is a prank,
but as he pulls the trigger, their faces all go blank.
lying on the ground, the blood begins to pour,
the ambulance approaches, the crowd heads for the door.
lying wounded on the bed, he’s barely heard to speak,
the nurse comes close to hear his words, although he’s very weak,
“I can’t go on without my love, I beg please pull the plug”,
but as a tear falls from her eye, she feels a gentle tug,
as fate has played its hand, the bearded lady now appears,
his eyes wide open once again, he stares and wonders as she nears.
“I’m sorry, I was wrong and I admit it”, forgive me if you can”,
a smile appeared upon his face, a new hope now began.
the years have passed, the healing has been done,
the circus now complete, true love has finally won.
and so their happy children, tell this tale at school,
and all they all can say is, “wow that’s really cool”.
In the little old town of Three Rivers
Lived a lady who grew long whiskers
Joined a circus did he/she
Was a oddity yessiree
Till someone attacked her with some scissors
© Jack Ellison 2015
How melancholic was the silent Saint Peter's Basilica
without a melody played by the bearded deacon,
priest of the Camelites who died in sea-washed Licata;
there, the Viol was played by Angelic of Jerusalem!
For years, it was covered in dust and fallen into oblivion:
it missed the Gregorian music sang with sheer enthusiasm!
A humble pilgrim expressed his faith in terms of miles:
he traveled far in search of spiritual enlightenment...
not knowing how close to him was the resurrected Christ!
The Parishers with drab faces waited for his return,
they missed his soothing music that delighted their smiles:
they believed that Jerusalem was a city of little concern!
Jerusalem wasn't Rome embellished with marbles and bricks,
not churches built with white limestone found in the highlands,
those same hills where Jesus preached on the Mount of Olives,
and amid Jewish rabbis and Orthodox priests with long sakkos,
Angelic blended well and continued his pilgrimage despite dangers...
nobody knew his whereabouts that increased their unfounded fears!
Finally, a letter was delivered to the archbishop of Rome;
Pope Pius II in white choir cassock trembling opened it,
and read it to the teary Parishers wishing he had returned home!
" I have knelt in front of Christ's sepulcher and prayed,
I will remain in Jerusalem and finish what I've started."
Profound silence dominated in the Basilica illuminated by sunset!
I wear a beard of aging, upon a cliff-face chin
A year has passed and grown its hairs out from my mottled skin
Mistakes sit there unchallenged, to each fibre clings a sin
Yet despite my facial mask of age the clubs won’t let me in
Beneath a bearded tree I sat
Expecting on a gaze,
When interview a headless hat
Came whiffling through the haze.
For laffs he wore a slight of grin,
And luck a charmless arm.
Four feathers grew upon his chin.
His steptwin was a farm.
Good Rooter with his tranquilize
Spread fat across the land.
To bleat the water from his cries
And polish up his hand.
‘Beware the Moo!’ A Cow called out,
His udders clothed in drag.
‘Beware its hook and pout-ful shout.
Its Moo-beams in a bag!’
Beneath a bearded tree I sat
Re-musing on the dayz.
When interview a stripy cat
Came whiffling through the haze.
Jealously Bearded
The computers afforded to the elite and working forces are not the dells everyone
detests to use as free ones given in all the better libraries they are the IBMS. The
number on the backs of them are plated in real GOLD bunion old. The screens
are made of crystal glass and fashioned as a shiny mirror made to look like
windows hanging in midair. The mouse has three click buttons and seldom will
ever break from the misuse the student teachers make the housing is made with
titanium fair. The total concept is an old one the same old song and dance. The
man needs to eat or work or graduate if a lover or a student user. The trap is
baited with the silver and the gold instead of just plane cheese. The end result is
at least one million dollars worth of please. Jealous is a simple word for me.
Nefertiti the bearded queen
Began her royal life at fifteen
Wooed and wed by Pharaoh Akhenaten
Ancient Egypt never was this rich again.
Nefertiti “the beautiful one has come”
Had six daughters, but unfortunately lost one.
She and her husband Pharaoh Akhenaten
Started worshipping only one god – the Sun.
Nefertiti went from Great Royal Wife
Promoted to co-regent without much strife
When her husband Pharaoh Akhenaten died,
It elevated her to rule beside his spiritual side
She was considered equal to a pharaoh now
Her legacy of changing religion is now a wow
Mansion of Benben temple dedicated to her
Visit the tombs, and hear her purr.
A good woman allows her man to prolong his child
h
o
o
d
Now we're an army of bearded spoiled beings.
Self-centered.
Come and go as we please.
Hang our dirty thoughts on the backdoor.
Void of romance, sex on demand.
Tie one on, then piss on the floor.
Swinging from the limbs of your emotional tree.
Feed our hearts to that pretty young thing down the street.
Yet you still bleach the stains from our day.
Rinse and repeat.
Rinse and repeat.
Good women deserve real man.
At the party, found I was once very special
Used to be a catch, a handsome young devil
Way way back
A long ago Jack
Now a bearded old fuddy, a little disheveled