Best Haircuts Poems
the barber's scissors:
my breath lost as the last of
his baby curls fell
But a brush and a touch, one parting more.
Delilah, Moon-girl, you stole my strong light.
I, your Sun-boy, am shorn having blackout,
but remember my close shaves, the honey
and dead days, my foes jaw-struck,
as the long-winded she-ass brays in my ear.
With influence silverish, drowning golden locks,
the egg-eating fish-god wins for a period
till dawn's yellow meets me at the next round.
I shake gold pillars in Dagon's stone temple
where uncut spectators are dying to taunt me
but what do I care for I know you await me,
At noon I burn for you,
at nightfall I sigh for you, O Delilah.
Alas, due to the insidious coronavirus situation,
The guv ordered barber shops closed for the duration!
Now, I suppose that is of no concern to a bald-headed bloke,
But since I still have a few strands on my skull, it ain't no joke!
What am I to do sans my barber deftly wielding his shears,
Taking some off the top and trimming about my ears?
If the virus prevails many more months, I'm afraid,
That I must stifle my scruffy mane with a luxuriant braid!
A haircut at home, times have changed
Barber shops were the way to play the game
Cost was a factor
Not the only reactor
Haircuts at home, things are not the same
I let you cut my hair.
Whether you were doing well
Or about to make a fool
Of your only daughter
Completely irrelevant
As I focused on your
Darting nervous eyes
The wrinkles in the corners
Tightening with ever pass
Of those clunky barber scissors.
I realized you had no idea
What you were doing,
But I couldn’t bring myself
To pull away from hands
That grasp frantically at love
Like it would vanish if I so much
As peered over my shoulder
At the piles of hair collecting
Between our feet.
Ah dearest animal
Being a dog I desire
Can't see to change tire
May 19, 2020
6pm PST
Poem 1,280