Best Clean Shaven Poems
I grew a beard
while waiting for you
it looks more and more
like I'll never get through
My left ear was aching
I switched to my right
This perpetual holding
has no end in sight
I wish I'd have noticed
before such great cost
that your phone number spells out
800-GET-LOST
Though I pressed '1' for English
I am thinking now
pressing '12' for Braille
might work better somehow
My friends have all passed on
my children have grown
while I have been sitting here
holding this phone
Your toll-free number
is anything but
with pulse-pounding migraine
and a pain in my butt
Yes, I was clean shaven
when this number I called
but now I'm all wrinkled
and dammit I'm bald!
My bones they will find
still sitting right here
the telephone clenched
where once was my ear
And your endless recording
monotonous, dull
will be amplified through
my cold empty skull
Categories:
clean shaven, funny, humorous, parody, technology,
Form:
Rhyme
Sitting with her now
Watching
How did she get so old?
How did I get so old?
So many pills
Green, blue, white, red, yellow, orange
All kinds of shapes
Round, oval, oblong – big and small
A tackle box with markings
Monday through Sunday
We talk and laugh . . . then
A knock on the door!
I’ll get it
A police officer – young, clean shaven
As I open the door
I jokingly yell . . . He’s here to arrest you mom!
Sir, I do need to speak with your mother. . .
What, Oh . . . come in
Mrs. Meade, did you hit another car?
Her face showed confusion, concern . . . fear
With a trembling voice . . . No officer, I dd i d not
I followed the young man to the garage
A scrape, red paint, a missing mirror
My heart sank
Thinking to myself – is she lying?
Or does she not realize what she has done?
Does it matter?
The time has come . . .
As I hug this frail old woman
Shoulders shaking, tears soaking my shirt
I whisper in her ear
Do not fear . . . everything will be OK . . . . I love you
Standing there I realized
Our roles had changed
Come my darling
It is time for you to live with us
Happy Mother’s day
I do love you!
David Meade
May 10, 2015
Love Generously
Categories:
clean shaven, car, fear, love, mother,
Form:
The Stone Story
Authored by Chuck Keys
I was staring at a stone today,
it didn't move, it just sat, resting,
relaxed in the warm mid-day sun.
The wind moved around it and it's lazy motionless nearby friends,
effortlessly.
They all looked alike,
maybe they were all family
on vacation
without a worry on their minds
if they had minds.
They didn't or couldn't smile or frown,
no beards or mustaches were visible, clean shaven.
They didn't look hungry or thirsty.
Of course how does a hungry or thirsty stone look?
I could have brought them water or food.
After much further intense thought,
I realized they don't have to worry about clothes
or lack of ...
Do they need clothes? Do they need anything?
Nothing. Nothing, is what they need.
I am envious.
Categories:
clean shaven, inspirational, introspection, life
Form:
Free verse
Perhaps I’m facing pogonophobes?
Apparently wore the wrong face.
Age-hardened wiry wisps forge
post-pubescent platemail -
protect strangers
from my truest fleshy pores, protect me
from the xenophobes of the Winter Conference.
It’s all pitching and coffee breaks
In a hall too grand for these meager mergers
Silent hecklers - likely clean-shaven -
likely Twitter-blasting about
an awkward pitch
and bitterness.
A beard grows opacity over my ebullient disinterest,
feigns sophistication amidst sophists,
and harbors microbes – an entire ecosystem –
Bored, I wonder;
Do they hold conferences as well?
Share stories around a follicle?
How uncomfortable
the itch of capitalism,
This profit pilgrimage
huddles us together
for that sickness to spread.
Free meals, networking with the estranged -
connect vacuously over downed drinks
and political action.
Shallow words spread thick
on the biological superhighway
bacterium feast freely.
The Winter Conference;
a microscopic windfall.
CONTEST ANNOTATION:
I’ve attempted to employ alliteration (‘post-pubescent platemale’), ambiguity (‘…for that sickness to spread’), double entendre (‘free meals’ and ‘bacterium feast freely’), imagery (‘my truest fleshy pores’, ‘Age-hardened wiry wisps’), paradox (‘ebullient disinterest’, ‘networking with the estranged’), and parallelism (‘likely clean-shaven – likely Twitter-blasting’). Not sure I’ve nailed every aspect of these devices - love the contest format as a way to force us in new directions!
Categories:
clean shaven, business, people, sick, society,
Form:
Free verse
It is the evening I have waited for,
stiletto heels three inches high adorned my feet,
real nylons hung from garters beneath a
skin tight, leather skirt of maraschino cherry-red.
A blouse of white silk, with a cascade of ruffles,
played peek-a-boo with my décolletage.
Outdoors, the rain pounded the asphalt
making the reality of his arrival even more bizarre.
A Harley barrels into the driveway.
Apparently, he thinks
he is Marlon Brando
and I am Stella?
I stand on the porch, a black umbrella
covering my new do, and watch as he
saunters through the puddles on the concrete walk.
The color of the umbrella my only
non-incongruent element in the frame, the scene made.
His smile was like a box of Chiclet's
on his clean shaven face.
He kisses me.
I lick the raindrop
from the tip of his Roman nose
and take hold of his Russian fingers.
He tosses my umbrella on the porch,
throws his black leather jacket over my shoulders,
lifts me off my feet, and carries me to the bike.
The sun breaks through the clouds and the rain stops,
just in time for the neighbors to glare at the sight of my legs
reflecting on the bikes chrome work.
Shake their respective heads
and donate a few wolf whistles.
Categories:
clean shaven, lust,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I brew sunsets in teapots
I drink the dawn from a mug
and in my bicycle basket I have seduction in a jug
so now and then I take someone clean shaven home to my obliging bed
when I guess I should sit quietly pristine,
with my legs crossed instead
but each day is so fragile
they black out every evening in the west
and all I got is these frail minutes
and I only want to live them, as if they were a fest.
© Gry W Christensen
Categories:
clean shaven, celebration, freedom, happiness, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Girls and boys
pick up your toys
Your playground
has been shut.
There’s a man out there
with greasy hair
hellish hankering
in his gut.
That’s what we thought
till Joey’s father was caught.
He was clean shaven
with neat crew cut.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
July 15, 2012
Categories:
clean shaven, people,
Form:
Rhyme
Something comes to mind;
It is no evil thing.
Objectified it stands,
Sings loudly with open mouth,
Nearly speechless.
So is the volume turned up,
Turned on
When frogs croak
In muddy ponds
And tadpoles wink the day.
The field is all clover--
Pure;
It feeds the sky,
Pleases the eye,
Is false
Like some lovers.
Frogs are lovers,
Hopping.
People hop too--
Skip, jump, dance
Nightly by the moon,
Restless as sin.
Then they croak.
Where do they go?
They inhabit the hollows;
Their breath is fire.
Personification is no
Evil thing--
A gift, perhaps.
Out of the mud come frogs
In their season.
People inhabit the mud
As well--
Splattered and spotted
Like freckles
They come.
Random is the field of clover
Growing,
Eating the mud,
Feasting like vultures.
The body lies down in clover;
It is covered,
It is decked out in glory
The glory of clover,
All fresh.
Out of the mud
comes a phantom.
He drips with slime.
He carries his pride
Like a tomahawk.
He is clean shaven.
There is no regret.
Wanting peace he comes,
And she the wolf-hound
Is waiting.
Categories:
clean shaven, allegory, imagery, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
Remembering in my Parents’ Prime
========================
Ah! This snowy still night, at bedtime;
Reminds me of the picnic pictures,
I as a boy would imagine,
Dad and mom must have had a great time
In icy Gulmarg.
Raising her veil, slightly smiling and awfully shy,
A classic Kashmiri countrywoman.
He as a sixties-seventies Bollywood actor,
Clean-shaven, twirled his mustaches,
Dresses in a long woolen coat and tie.
And I in her lap with a scowly face
Seeing at the photographer,
With my finger in my mouth
And, belly half-naked.
Categories:
clean shaven, parents,
Form:
Free verse
She couldn't believe her luck with the knock at the door,
This day of all days, the one day she can will a way.
One can only trap with the appropriate bait laid;
She preened herself in the mirror plying red "trap set"
Winking at herself with the smack of the lipstick case.
She knows she's got one this time. (He'll make the perfect plate!)
Fine meat wrapped in brown, clean shaven and recently bathed;
The fresh scent of his flesh had her drooling already.
"How may I help you" (to myself? she thought with a smile)
"Oh hi" obviously surprised by her beauty, brash
As pheromones filled his lungs he forgot who he was
"I'm uh"... "You're here for dinner" she whispered in his ear
Taking the package and closing the door behind him.
17.10.13
Composed for Russell Sivey's
"Halloween Scare"
Categories:
clean shaven, food, halloween, sexy,
Form:
Free verse
Black and White Yoyage
Ying and Yang come to mind that wakes up in the morning
Harmony the task for the day and the nights of the soul as
black coffee takes hold with bits of refined white powder
No credit card needed to shoot up the lines just sweetener
Money short as many times but the fangs of depression at
bay in the haven of a polychrome garden paradise around
Abundance mixes genesis and evolution blends the colours
cherishes diversity celebrates similarities holds dear all
the differences which we humans bring to the daily party
On my travels to Spain with bright sun and black secrets
in history memories civil strife and factional fracture
I stumbled into Guernica the painting the scream into hell
No hues no colourant just clarity’s pigment shadows and all
where the white flag of peace had been bombed into dust
with help of Mussolini’s black shirts and fascist brown hue
From a chessboard of aerial precision it was black or white
a foreplay of what was to come in the wars to proceed in
white ashen faces and clean shaven razor blades of demise
Back in South Africa’s so called rainbow nation I have digested
distorted figures of human targets screaming animals shattering
aeroplane parts sending Picasso’s message into the world
Black and white still struggle here overt and covertly where
Apartheid lives on some lives matter more than some others
in a country steam rolled by corruption of capitalistic greed
Coffee in hand and sweet sugar soothing my wake up call
it all seems so powerless when I as a minion of resistance
confide my wish for full colours to the message of love
Ying and Yang leaves no room for aggression no place for
killing fields in the pastures of plenty just whisks and whiffs of
what could become if understood we are all black and white
15th February 2017
Categories:
clean shaven, peace,
Form:
Free verse
I see Spring's telltale touch leave
ethereal fingerprints on dripping icicles.
And I smell Her sweet scent on every warm breeze,
as Her breath fills my lungs with fresh air.
I feel Spring playfully, taunting me, ever so softly
blowing sensually upon my neck, toying with me.
And as the sun rises higher, hosting differing hues,
melted snowflakes morph into trickling streams.
I hear Spring's presence:
in the chirps of a cricket's forlorn trill.
And in the songs songbirds sing, as the buds begin to
shadow trees in green stubble,
defying Winter's clean-shaven look.
I sense Spring summoning showers
to enhance Nature's breathtaking beauty.
Every color of the rainbow inks a plethora of flowers,
as the birds build nests, and the earth renews
while Spring rains strip away Winter's white.
Categories:
clean shaven, beauty, feelings, hyperbole, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Slinking away a gaze in silent distress,
by that guarding railings, a light it descends
her mind it flounders in self made heaven
swarms around that verity clean shaven.
Sultry dusk marks again an end,
of whimpering yearns in their flawless defend
his allure ode always in aloft
through entangled vines a place they sought.
Bygones and blood relations, they forsaken
but oh not a fiddle of reluctance it given
it's not wrong to deem the slightest
barriers she breaks to the furthest.
Dispiriting clouds enshrouds her in twilight,
his scenic visage twirls around in silhouette,
ages she will dwell in that eternal solace,
immense love brim full, were they ever realised?
Hopes glimmer beyond horizons afar,
and lingers not a qualm of what destined for,
beguiled always in his limpid purity,
like trellis his arms, she buries in felicity.
Categories:
clean shaven, happiness, love, nature
Form:
ABC
Alright no one here leaves
Until I get back my monkey
He was right here beside me
When we sat down at the bar
He got up to use the restroom
Cause my monkey is not uncouth
I KNOW he didn't just drive off
I still have the keys to the car
We were having the best of times
Telling jokes and making up zoological rhymes
He even passed around that picture
You know the one with the orangutan in that embarrassing position
That's the last time I saw him
My monkey...my best friend
Will somebody help me look please
These tears have all but blurred my vision
I've now checked every zoo on the East coast
Every circus that I know
Thinking perhaps he was monkeynapped
By some clown or zoological freak
I haven't seen hide nor hair
Of a clean shaven monkey in underwear
I told you he wasn't uncouth
My monkey learned that from me
These days I cry in my beer
Since my monkey's no longer here
I guess Doodles had better things
To do with his life
If my monkey, Doodles you ever do see
Will you tell him I miss him oodles for me
And that I've accepted the fact that he's not coming back
And that I'll be alright...
Categories:
clean shaven, funny, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
I was clean shaven when I
spotted a snail going by
I watched for a while
as he went half a mile
now my beard's reaching down to my thigh
Categories:
clean shaven, funny, humorous, hyperbole,
Form:
Limerick