Best Facial Poems
Every discovery started with absolutely
no idea of where to start...
There is not enough time in a lifetime
to measure success...
Just as there is pain in uncertainty,
there is peace in faith...
We thrive in our communal happiness,
we parish in derisive pain...
Death is much less reliable in peace.
In war, we can put up a more
reasonable defense...
We can waste a lifetime seeking happiness
from someone else's approval...
Our happiness should always be seen
in the kindness of our eyes...
With desires held in check,
less becomes more...
When a smile becomes a laugh,
you've found happiness...
Love is helping someone discover that they
are better than what they thought they were...
Unfathomable contentment is a poet
finishing the last line of a poem...
We scream our truth
without a voice
It is in our cheeks
as they pulse in and out
while we are trying to compose our anger
so we do not hurt ourselves or others
We scream our truth
without words
It is in our eyes
when we see injustice
and we want to run and save
but we know it is not our place,
and we might do more damage than good
We scream our thoughts
in our eyes
Without making a sound
When we see the bullies
getting away with things we never thought they could
Rising through the ranks, becoming our children's heroes
Our arms are crossed and our feet are stamping mad.
He joins the league of the oldest continuous civilization
and keeps three out of every five of the globe’s underground crude.
Typified by a way of life resting on three luxurious pillows
and the system of most of its homes void of tables and chairs.
But a little cruel, he is to his helpless womb bearers
as is he alongside three other friends a leading trader of trafficking sex
with a sharp increase in the number of children
becoming part of its service providers in recent times
confirming his reputation as one of the worst hands for a girl to be born.
His exotic pride lies on the rare breed of the Persian Cat
popularly known to promote and boost the gender-change operation,
as he is also crowned “the nose-job capital of the world”.
In cavier, pistachios and saffron, he is a competing global producer;
having the only condom merchandise factory in the entire middle east.
He converts his plague of over a million foreign refugees
into sustainable development built on cheap labour.
Carpet exportation uniquely sits second in his earnings
and finds a miracle food in his special Persian milk.
“Paradise” was coined from a word of his mouth
and poetry epitomizes the beauty of the cultural heritage;
of his identity which was a one time world power and spreading empire.
What am I? Her mind wonders when she looks at herself in the mirror accounting on why God created her this way. She looks at her reflection and all she can see is pain inside of her.
Her mind left confused when people never notice that she is around. She stands there waiting to be noticed, she stands there waiting to be approved by everyone around her.
Her mind shifts away when they start calling her names when they start expressing how ugly she is. She stands there thoughtless and unwanted by everyone. She has rejected herself.
She looks into her soul and all she can see is hurt. She reaches for her heart only to find out that they’ve broken her heart into little pieces.
She looks at her naked face trying to understand why she is different.
What am I? She asks herself trying understand why her mother tells her she is beautiful but yet other people are saying the complete opposite.
I met her, she had all the right attributes
Petite torso, a smile so cute
But I think she was incognito
I visited her house, she turned out to be a fan of the Dung Beetle
I pledged my love to her, and told her my heart she could save
It all went sour, a three o'clock shadow revealed she needed a shave
The Lionel Richie mustache and the ZZ Top beard
It seemed out of nowhere to have appeared
She said she was a Drill Instructor for the female Marines
In my opinion with facial hair like that, male or female, she falls somewhere in
between
She says in her sweet voice, come shave me with a Schicks Quad Razor
I tell her I've got to go, Baskin Robbins is coming out with a new flavor
She is a Grunt so she trapped me in a snare
She says I will release you after you shave my facial hair
She said her skin is sensitive so she uses Edge Gel with Aloe
I down a fifth of Black Velvet to try and mellow
Now I grab the quad and approach the task at hand
I am really confused here, do Iove her, or beat her up like I would a man
She tells me, if you think I'm hot, you should see my cousin Judy
She is the Drill Instructor who punishes those at K P Duty
I smile and cringe at the same time
At this point I realize the sun doesn't always shine
This experience will never be revealed in a truth or dare
To this day, I am still shaving her facial hair
She is now hated by all the fellas
Mostly it comes from being hairless and jealous
Now she has really thrown the train off the tracks
She showed me the shag carpet on her back
One need not know her life story
to actually know this woman.
Her character is quite clearly
Sculptured into her youthful hewn
Face: her flawless forehead and arched brows
bridge atop two mirrored blue pools:
Eyes that conceal lies that somehow
besmirch her most precious jewels.
Her celestial nose turned upward
suggesting a pretentious snob;
And her mouth: two full, pinkish-red,
fleshy folds with a subtle sneer
imperceptibly perceived
concealing her feigned innocence.
A face of age, a septuagenarian that magically reverts to my twenties when I turn away from the mirror.
My hair of silver does what it pleases to cover my face. I can't move one side of my face, a condition they call Bell's Palsy. Flirty, half fallen, silky gray hair that helps me cover the one side. My forehead smooths out from the left and slight creases on the right. My eyebrows are small; a student describing them like commas.
When I was younger, my large brown eyes and long dark lashes were the focal point of my face.
As the years moved on, erosion has chosen to leave me with bloodshot eyes; one normal the other droopy and dry as the sands of the Sahara Desert whether from the constant irritation or the countless sleepless night.
I've always had a round face with freckles and a small turned-up nose that is a beacon of shine if it's not powdered. I am very fortunate, I have no wrinkles around my eyes, but two smile lines that crinkle on either side of my nose.
My lips are not like a lot of women, plump, I inherited my father's small thin lips. As a teen, I would gloomily glare in the mirror hating the way they looked. My teeth are not quite perfect, but I might remind you of a chipmunk. They're not noticeable since I am not able to smile. If I don't, I look very normal, but a look of scowling.
A face of age yet beautiful.
12/26/2019
Poetry Contest: The Metaphor Of Your Face
Sponsored BY: John Lawless
Amid disdain of society’s mask
That curse of age questioned like it was dearth
We hide real image, afraid to be asked
Allowing fashion to control our worth.
Youth’s potion sells high on retail market
Fools we are, wasting hours for vain signs,
Defying true beauty to walk the red carpet
Instead of giving love to life that shines.
So what if few laugh lines are more cherished
Age is a treasure relishing more thrills,
Exploring new joys ripened to nourish
The raw passion raging through seasons’ chills.
What's facelifts for when heart can wonder
How to fight for a cause and seize new dreams,
When bold trials are baked in fire’s hunger
Chasing stars at thirty, ready to steam!
Nancy Jones' Contest:
This is How Life Feels When You
Get to Be My Age
I have finally grown a goatee
Keep it trimmed and neat as can be
Though some say it definitely isn’t me,
I think it suits me to a tee.
I tried for years to grow a beard
It always turned out just as I feared
Sparse, scraggly, needing to be sheared
All my friends resoundingly jeered.
Some think I’m hiding, in disguise
I think my goatee makes me look wise
It’s trimmed to just the right size
Covering neither my eyes nor thighs.
My goatee is particularly efficient
At catching crumbs, it’s very proficient
My bare upper lip seems sadly deficient
For me, the goatee is certainly sufficient.
Written December 3, 2022
AFRICAN POEM BY NWACHUKWU VICTOR
FACIAL EXPRESSIONS
A picture drawn in your complexion,
Tells alot about your expression,
It hides in your beauty,
And makes it hard to tell if one is guilty,
The illustration shown through the eyes,
Decieves the fools, and is seen by the wise
It's sometimes easy to know the truth from the lies
But sometimes it's hard to realize
The eyes of Deception
And the words of Redemption
This two Things clash
And creates a splash
In the battle between feelings and emotions
And sometimes it brings about the astmosphere of commotion
Facial expressions is used as a tool
To know who is who
But sometimes mocks the fools
It's like telling a story without a word
And create a version of our world
Deception, lies, truth, feelings and emotions
All this hides behind the Facial expression
It is like a mask we wear to play our part
Or a character we Imitate to act
Many people judge through the cover of books
And believe deeply in the looks
Even the weather decieves with it's mysterious nature
Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's playful and mature
The real truth is hidden behind those smiles
And the fack happiness that will last for some whiles
Being reminded of the truth by the breeze
But still hinding under the trees
Living in two worlds
One for the eyes, the other for the words
Living through our Imagination
A life according to our beautification
Some hide it because of their foes
Living a life on the low
Show quoted text
”You Can Become Dreamy In A Spa”
(by Rainbow ?? Promise)
Soft Erie-like musical strains -
Guitars, flutes, banjos, violins
Float in the Air with rhythmic flare.
With rhythmic flare you lay bare,
Soft lights, candle lit, flicker there,
As Erie-like strains drone on.
As Erie-like strains drone on
Facial being done, masques run
Dripping, nostrils squeezing, squeeze.
Nostrils squeezed, can you breathe?
Hot chemical-filled towel like a wreath
Placed in triangular form, chin to nose
Triangular form chin to nose
Droning, Recurring soft music you pose,
in solitaire,
O, a Spa can be Erie like a Morgue!
Fire Facial
The newest rage in China
Is something I confess
That needs to be reported
That needs to get some press
It’s called a “fire facial”
And it’s the hottest thing
They simply light your face on fire
God – that sure must sting
They say it burns off “dull” skin
But I bet it burns off hair
And your eyebrows and eyelashes
Might not still be there
It also cures the common cold
And obesity’s reduced
The one thing that it doesn’t give
Is common sense a boost
I for one will keep “dull” skin
And eyebrows as they are
This latest beauty treatment
I think has gone too far
5/6/13
On his face is the smirk
of a tired barn owl,
like a ***** cross between
a frown and a scowl;
most expressive is the skewed
side of his mouth
that's now sliding down a few
pissed degrees south!
Her's is a wonderfully framed oval face
with startling attributes such as pouty mouth similar to Angelina Jolie...how pretty...
and eyebrows golden brownish snaking around to
make the windows of the soul all that more remarkable
with the golden tones hued with bluish tint-
cheekbones strong and prominent
articulate the facial structure so that the face
is a wonder to behold and this is the face
with all it's components
that could melt a thousand hearts.
The face of today has changed so
evolved over a thousand millenium
from a most prominent brow
to a softer
more refined structure-
herein lies the beauty of the ages
the ever evolving lips, cheekbones, and caressable
ears...
burned into memory
for all time.
Her Facial Expression
Her facial expression seemed so sincere,
Even though his soul is no longer here;
When met;
Never forget;
Memories of him are still close and near.
Jim Horn
For Marjory Wentworth regarding her friend
Muhizidin d'Bhana
Sometimes you really need to add notes
to explain your poem and its meaning.