Best Hirsute Poems
"Kool for Katz Kissed"
Wake me when it’s all over
I’m having a swinging time
dreaming my purrrrrfect dreams
Hanging with the OM monks
I’m a nun hanging loose and hirsute
swinging in the breeze
I’ve been given a reprieve
Call it Catnip Time
Wake me when it’s all over
feed me soul food on the turn of a warm spoon
love in the time of Covid, you can feel
all the sanguine prowling Mancoons
purring heat, all the Toms and Tomasinas croon
isolation lullabies, cats and fiddles burning
all the boisterous feathered flutter byes
under a saucy Salmon Pink Moon dream
Licking my lips
dreaming of whiskers tickling
slow purrs and legs wrapped
around the kitchen table
I claim this zone of sensations all mine
fresh salty anchovies and warm laps full of cream
love in the time of Covid, you can feel
the sanguine prowling Mancoons
purring heat, all the Toms and Tomasinas croon
Call it Catnip Time
Kool for Katz Kissed
howling's for all the zen masters inside
small torrid rebellions are all off street
AWOL has gone wild
we're all now a little on the tame side
some days are sunshine and smiles
other days we avoid the sad ride
Call it Catnip Time
isolation lullabies,
cats and fiddles
burning boisterous feathered flutter byes
under a saucy Salmon Pink Moon dream
and cloudless
chirping
eggshell blue sky
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Categories:
hirsute, freedom, imagery, irony, peace,
Form:
Free verse
We grew our hair down to our shoulders
Hirsute we were, moustaches and beards
Turned up our noses at those who were older
'Cos we were so hip, so freaky, so weird
Revved up our stereos, going stone-deaf
Dropped pill after pill, of common sense bereft
Wore psychedelic threads to match our psychedelic brains
We thought ourselves 'free,' but we were really in chains
Don't ask me if the Sixties were 'wonderful years!'
~ Just leave me alone with my cigars and my beer
Categories:
hirsute, america, drink, drug, fashion,
Form:
Rhyme
I ran toward him with flowing hair
He ran toward me hirsute
With outstretched arms we sought embrace
~ He tripped, I played my flute
Categories:
hirsute, hair, romance,
Form:
Rhyme
Sir Henry was smoking cheroot
Stark naked in his birthday suit
But he did something rash
When he's flicking his ash
His pubes are no longer hirsute!
4th May 2015
Categories:
hirsute, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
"Valentino, Romance never dies"
Witness the hirsute main cat eloquently honey trapped,
the lap dance laps all the cream for what it's worth,
squeezes life out of the heart into the flipped mind
of Valentino, the bird chirps,
“romance never dies, in truth”
cats kissing caged canaries singing cabaret
Valentino, romance never dies,
not today, never not today, forsooth
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“The soft wolf tread
Thru Emerald Forest
he was lookin' to make a bed
There in the spindly thicket
softly did he tread
The soft wolf tread”
Credits:
Rupert Valentino;
The Lap
Categories:
hirsute, muse, romance,
Form:
Narrative
She thinks in exotic colours
that drip off her tongue
like sharp shining jewels
formed somewhere deep
in the permafrost of her,
the grey matter thrives
in the lava somewhere
rising inside the
lux velvet crimson
pulsing at the core of her,
and births diamonds
that drip off her tongue
like icicles
that could pierce and shatter
a heart or could melt them
just the same
He is like a rhesus monkey
quite short in mind,
small in sound, oh,
but never sound,
the expression on his face,
wanting, eternally perplexed,
the value of his thoughts jumbled,
his darting hirsute mind
running zealous riots around
invisible conquests in
neverending schizoid circles,
rattling the bars of his cage
just for attention,
his words form strangely
for a species trapped
in his own dark age,
each day hardly speaking
but his mind screaming,
passing his hand through
his thinning hair
he is time poor
holding a cup
out for love
to the monkey grinder
all seems lost in poetic translation
yet, it ferments in the daily conditioning,
the small ritualistic routines
regularly delivered in bed before sleep
and upon waking
for one cannot survive without the other;
it’s in the feeding, not in the taking
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Categories:
hirsute, dark, muse,
Form:
Free verse
A hirsute young man named Barry
who's beard and mustache were quite scarry
cut off his hair
when presented a dare
from a woman he wanted to marry!
Categories:
hirsute, fun, funny, giggle, hair,
Form:
Limerick
Phil’s caveman look is very weird
He really should shave off his beard
His mother is right
He looks a strange sight
The Neanderthal look’s to be feared!
Since December Phil’s been hirsute
He needs to give his beard a boot
He’ll cut it off in the sink
But his mum won’t cause a stink
Cos without it he looks real cute!
Poem Posted with Kind permission of Phillip Garcia
To understand the poem please read my comments on Phillip's poem
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/3443_or_t_minus_44_880105
02~26~17
Categories:
hirsute, body, for her, for
Form:
Limerick
"His Name is Calciatore"
His name is Calciatore
he loves to follow me
from room to room
he’s exceptionally
well groomed
even handsome,
one might say,
he can be quite serious
yet, he loves it
when I flirt
shamelessly with him,
day after day,
"Love will have its way", they say
it’s always “play ball”
with him, when I say this,
he grins, always leaning in
with a big wet kiss, he licks his lips
ever the true romantic
he is,
definitely,
with this, I agree
always barking
his hirsute opinions
back at me, alone or
with others in the room,
translated, in short,
he thinks, I’m a loon,
a bit like Tin Tin
but a bird
with this, taken
all in good humour,
enough is never
enough
I cannot help
but to laugh
and agree, more
and more, a little bit,
I let out his lead;
loosened up
he understands
implicitly,
who holds the reigns
sometimes,
he croons off key,
off leash, he has me
on my knees
smooching
his ears, his soft spot
with this, he always
agrees
stalking never enters
his frame, although
he loves the chase
he loves the game
He’s a character
this much is true
he loves to lick scoops
of melting L’Amour
from my never-ending bowl
of raspberry ice cream
this tickles his whiskers
he always wants more
of course, naturally,
I'm soft like
warm marshmallow
I give in,
you see
hopeless in love,
absolutely,
no discipline;
warm telepathy
is our own language
d’amour, he's always alert
always on cue, wanting more
when we turn
in for the night
before I turn off
the lights,
with his eyes
he says,
"I Love You",
then,
he confesses,
with his eyes,
before I walk out
the door -
his real name
is Blue.
later I hear
him snore;
such is Love
content, I smile,
a little laugh follows,
then I sleep;
when I wake
next morning,
there he is pronto,
lying beside me
back for more,
he takes the lead
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Categories:
hirsute, humor, love, muse,
Form:
Romanticism
O glorious cavern wrought with pinkish mystery,
Thou, whose puck’ring lips I have dreamt about,
Are the sacred altar of Sodom’s progeny .
How thy sweet effluence is set to rout
When that fearsome beast of mine doth attack
And rend thy cave apart with its purple snout!
Venus’s temple on its hirsute mound
Seems paltry when likened to thy glory.
For to thou alone I am always bound.
It is exclusively in thy quarry
That I seek my precious stones of ordure,
Be they glist’ning moist or dark and hoary.
I shall gulp down thy mellifluous excrement
And wed my soul to its celestial scent!
Categories:
hirsute, funny, sensual,
Form:
Ode
Beautiful downtown Atlanta
Sunny, blue, cloudless sky
Tall, wide, massive buildings
Window glass glistening in the sun
Beautiful, well-dressed people
Gainfully employed people
Taking care of business people
Running essential errands
Contributing to the community
Pursuing positive, purposeful lives.
I take in the sights, sounds, smells
Sounds of people walking, talking
Engines revving and car horns honking
Smells of restaurants and fast food vendors
Engine exhaust and overheated brakes
Feel of the sidewalk
Under my expensive dress shoes
Heat of the sun on my face and neck
Exciting hustle and bustle
Of a thriving metropolis.
A faint, “Please, sir …” reaches my ears
And a homeless man appears
Dirty, disheveled, hirsute
“Please, sir, could you …”
I divert my eyes, quicken my pace
Ignoring his petty pleas
His weak speech trails off
As he disappears in my wake
Bothersome soul, good riddance!
Why doesn’t the city do something?
Days later the encounter troubled me
I was so proud of the way I handled myself
How easy it is to dismiss a soul in need
Months later the encounter tormented me
Instead of the clever human I thought I was
I had become unfeeling, unkind, uncaring
Years later the encounter still haunts me
Never will it ever happen again
Never … ever …
Categories:
hirsute, humanity, rude, sorry,
Form:
Free verse
A hirsute young lady named Tash
Decided to do something rash
She shaved off her stubble
Oh boy she’s in trouble –
Tash now sports a beard and moustache
22nd June 2016
Categories:
hirsute, body, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
He noticed something rather curious in photos of past generations,
That seemed so rife among the male gender of his relations.
All his forebears were hirsute deprived, or bald if you will.
If this was an omen of things to come, him it didn't thrill!
At age twenty-three he sported shaggy, golden locks,
As thick and curly as that of an Asian wild ox.
He nourished his crop with pomades and tender, loving care,
Hoping he could forever keep that beautiful head of hair!
For some reason at age thirty-eight his forehead did expand,
And tufts of hair clogged his comb - this he didn't understand.
He spent hours before the mirror arranging his sparse tresses,
And in this having little success, just added to his stresses!
A shiny patch of skin mysteriously appeared upon his crown,
And around his ears little was left but wispy clumps of down.
At age fifty-two he had no further need for brush or comb.
There wasn't a trace of hair to be found upon his glossy dome!
For his plight he bought a "rug" (more delicately put, a toupee),
But his friends said he looked ridiculous so he tossed it away.
"Bald is beautiful and so provocative", he'd often heard it said.
Still, he hid his gleaming skull 'neath a snappy chapeau instead!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
hirsute, funnybeautiful, age, age, beautiful,
Form:
Rhyme
Limericks crochetés: Once a cardsharp comic called Don Dump
Once a cardsharp comic called Don Dump
Made father’s money jump during slump
Dreamed of ruling this earth
Joined campaign (in) stand-up mirth
Made people laugh without using trump.
He played to the gallery hirsute
Soon his jokes turned sauerkraut through soot
Before long they cried : Heil !
Jackboots clicked, people wail
In goose-step, give : Sieg ! Heil ! salute.
Moral : « Listen not to funny man Dump !
Migrants all know how to scale wall jump.
Ten million there love US
Minus some (who) think like louse !
Live not solipsistic world on rump ! »
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
hirsute, destiny, leadership, patriotic, rights,
Form:
Limerick
I miss the old time monster movies where the insects ruled the day,
Where disaster resulted from a mishap with a disintegrator ray.
Unleashing the wrath of nature by causing the insects to expand,
Proving to us once again that the scientists are out of hand.
The military would be activated before they’d answered all the hows,
And the energy beam that they created made roaches the size of cows.
Then a giant deadly mantis terrorized Washington D.C. one day,
And finally taught the congressmen just how it is you prey.
Enormous hairy spiders are in the subway and on the track,
Webbing people in giant cocoons and saving them for a snack.
There was always a beautiful woman with a bod and brains to boot,
And you knew that the hero would save her with his manly chest hirsute.
Because even though he said something to her just to raise her ire,
You could tell that between the two of them there burned a raging fire.
As she works in her lab late at night the bugs come looking for their meals,
She tries to get away but she can’t run too fast while wearing her high heels.
What was there left for her to do but to freeze and start her screaming,
The hero saves her in the nick of time with a smile that was redeeming.
She’d develop a serum to reverse the horror that stares them in the face,
But he was the only one who could deliver it and save the human race.
The combination of her brains and his last ditch daring do,
Would ultimately serve to save the day and lead to kissing too.
They’d fall into each other’s arms as his tattered shirt reveals,
His blood stained bulging biceps and the love for her he feels.
And just before the credits role “The End” comes up on the screen,
Then a tiny vial falls off the lab bench and a question mark is seen.
They don’t make them like that any more but why I just can’t say,
Possibly because tastes have changed and now good taste rules the day.
Categories:
hirsute, funny, for her, for
Form:
Light Verse