Best Haircut Poems
The Haircut
By Elton Camp
That man with a buzzing machine
What in the world can he mean
He's bringing it right up to my head
This brings me fright and dread
My dad is sitting right over there
He somehow doesn't seem to care
I'm in great danger can't he see
Why doesn't he come rescue me
I tell you now he might as well
Bloody murder I'm fixing to yell
Sometimes just a trim; others, a drastic clip;
around-the-world trip with one mighty snip.
Children and scissors together, tempt fate;
by the time you check, it's already too late.
Like closing hen-house doors after the chicks are out;
no need to whimper, get angry or shout.
She's taken the scissors, achieved a slam dunk;
whacked her dog-ears off, leaving two stubby chunks.
Close and clean but I gots to go not strapped but this chair I know Mirror’s shaky friend **** All dressed up but the razor barber my eyes like a laser a click drop two bits
* - Henry Fonda's , My Name Is Nobody - Shaving Scene
He went to the barber to cut his hair
But he looked at him with an awful stare
Then he heard the barber say
Sir, you're wearing a toupee
He said I was tired and couldn't find a chair
Today, Hubby came home with a shaved head
At first, I thought a stranger I'd bed!
The reason he's bald
Our heat wave does scald
At least it's better than locks dredg'd!
The smell
The feel
The taste
The sound
The sight
These are your five senses
Useful they are,
When getting a haircut
Week before middle school
Twelve and shy
Sent to get haircut
With three dollars
Clippers were brought out
I was too scared to look
I had never had a store-bought haircut before
The man had a funny smell.
I would not know it was alcohol for several more years.
He sang while he used a razor on my head.
When he was done I looked up.
He said "Three dollars son."
I started to cry.
A tear ran down my face.
He had given me a buzz cut.
I had not grown any kind of indicators that I
was a girl. I had never thought to tell him.
"Don't worry, Son," he said, as he took my three
dollars. "It will grow back."
So I went to middle school looking like
a male army recruit, at the age of twelve.
Worst year of my life.
At that time.
why is it like this for me
it's not the way it's mean't to be
now i'm in a total rut
all because of my haircut
oh!it's all right for you to smirk
it's not you who looks a jerk
and now i feel so loud and gaudy
a totally messed up crowning glory
how i miss my flowing hair
and my neck so cold and so bare
i pine for my ratty locks
and for my head a suitable box
or maybe a high collared mac
and console myself it will grow back
they say it'll be just the same
but where to hide my face ,my shame
I've decided that it shouldn't have been done
and that i defiantly can't go on the run
so i have to live my life of doom
in the loneliness of my bedroom.
I remember back a year or two when waiting for the barber’s chair,
where Bill Crosbie snipped around the heads, relieving excess hair,
and Bill’s as typical a barber that you’re ever deemed to meet.
He liked to hear the local gossip while you’re sitting on his seat.
And as it happened on this day, there were two ahead of me.
I was cursing too beneath me breath because of this you see,
for this fella with his lad could see where I’m about to go,
so they doubled up their striding, and of course I was too slow.
The fellow sat there in the chair, and Bill wrapped a towel around,
then manicured to lift his hair and thinning scissors soon abound.
The trimmer skimmed around his ears, and then with tight precision,
Bill looked around this new hair cut and made one more decision.
He brushed the neck with shaving cream upon the fella in the chair,
then stropped the razor for an edge to remove the lathered hair,
and with swiftness of his barber’s hands, Bill towelled away the rest,
to leave the fella looking smart now his haircuts been addressed.
So with a quick brush for loose hair and the towel removed with care,
the fella stood up from the chair, and the lad sat down in there.
As Bill sent the clippers ‘round the contours of the young boys head,
the fella then excused himself, and this is what he said.
“I have to duck down to the draper, and buy meself a suit and tie
to wear at my company dinner” and then before he said goodbye;
he said to Bill “Look after him, I won’t be long, then did adjourn.
Bill finished cutting the kids hair, and so it became my turn.
Bill combed me hair into the air just like a cocky crested tease,
and although he’d started trimming there’s a slight hint of unease,
for the fella hadn’t come back, therefore the kid was on his own,
so with jovial reminder; Bill said “Your Father's left you all alone!”
The kid looked at Bill and gave a grin, then said “That’s not me Dad!”
So the hackles stood upon Bills neck, for he realised he’d been had
when the kid continued, “I dunno him. He took me hand and said to me,
‘Come on son, let’s wander in, we’ll get a haircut each for free!’
As she waked through the door I could tell by the look in her eye
Exactly what she wanted and I would be the one to give it to her
Sitting her down I wrapped her firmly and released the golden locks
Which flowed like silk down her sides
My well-oiled tool stroked its way thru her thick mat of hair
Giving her what she wanted as best as I could continuing my motion
First from the rear, the from the sides and finally from the front
As I spun her around to see she begged for just one more inch
Telling her I would do my best I obliged and finished shortly after
As I uncovered her she rose from the chair beaming with satisfaction
I asked if I would see her again, she did not respond
I knew she would return again just as before and I would be ready.
I once sported a manly beard,
a beastly beard had I.
But then on the farm, at the crack of dawn,
while my lady cheered,
she chopped it off, and while the cows mockingly mooed,
I quietly cried.
And with that, a little something inside of me died.
I would venture to guess it was my manly pride.
She brushed and whispered into my tickled ear
"Brian, how I pined for your lovely face,
and your youthful countenance.
You don't need a mane to rival a lion in ferocity
-you're sensitive and wise,
I can see it in your eyes,
and your words they always seem to make sense."
Who was I to debate with her?
Her words would lose weight
if I failed to concur.
Barbershops all closed,
a Covid nonessential.
I clip my own mop.
Everybody and their cousin wants their haircut today.
The sign is in the window as usual – stylist needed.
Great opportunity. Apply within.
It should say ten stylists needed.
Many empty stations.
Not sure what is happening here.
The usual cutters are not around anymore.
The young ones are beeping and blinking on cell phones.
Ignoring the old lady customers who are trying to shout to each other
From under old fashion beehive dryers.
The beeping and blinking
And ignoring of customers
Is driving me nuts.
If I did not look like
an unkempt, Cro-magnon man today
I would be gone.
Without the wait.
Or the bad haircut
From a stylist who
is looking at her phone the whole time she is slashing my mess.
King of the Jungle
Queuing with my homies
Houdinis every one.
No sharpened tongues, but scissors,
To calm the shaggy throng
Not all blokes in this queue,
Despite lockdown's grooming blooper,
As I stand here and review,
Will contest my Bradley Cooper
Alas, Delilah wins.
It's time to shave my greying locks
Hirsute-less head, Yul Brynner,
Now the look my ego rocks
Now a simple peasant
With falling dreams, so vain.
No more the Isolation King
With glorious flowing mane..
My crowning jewel.
Majestic theft!
The jungle cries, her heart bereft..
As gothic curls now hit the floor;
The swooning fans will be no more
And yet..
Enthroned here, buys me precious time..
To formulate this simple rhyme
And meditate upon what's passed
As hairy shoes I have amassed.
I dwell on more important things
While scissors snap, and clipper sings
Of friendship. Love.
Of breathing air.
Despite the loss of debonaire..
The blessing of recaptured choices.
The privilege of freedom's voices.
And now my head, so strangely free;
Reminds of who I'm meant to be.
Jinjagoliath
13th April 2021
he sits
she cuts
hair once dark
like nights
of passion shared
now white
with streaks
and still she cuts
remembering
this once bold man
strong and full of challenge
mighty shoulders
arms that lifted her with ease
squeezed her breathless
brought her to her knees
with love
now flaccid weak
balding gray
this man she loves
so dearly
fades away
through her tears
she cuts
remembering
his loving touch
with hands
firm and smooth
marked with veins
that pumped
his hearts longing
through his body
to her loins
and now
a morning kiss
a peck goodnight
what love remains
she cuts.