Best Shear Poems
My dear brother Butch,
Hair are the highlights of my week:
I got a job at the Hairway to Heaven salon!
Our motto: "We color your hair or dye trying"
When the interviewer said "I mustache you a question..."
I answered, "May I mullet over?"
Seriously, working there is a shear delight,
with some nice fringe benefits
They're a real cut above the rest
and I shave a lot of money on hair products...
I bought Dad a comb for Father's Day… I bet he'll never part with it
It is a long drive to the salon, but now I know all the short cuts
Oh hey, I know hair-growth seminars are not your style, but
call up your receding hairline buddies and comb on over!
It was great to see you last week, you are looking so trim!
I still feel terrible about the curling iron incident…
You can rest a-sheared I'll straighten it out
but I mussed warn you, you might get fro straighted
Just remember, $15 for a hairpiece is a small price toupée
You may not like short hair at first, but it will grow on you
...that's the mane thing
Did you hear Mom and Dad had a brush with death?
It was a very hairy situation with a real twist:
buzzing down the highway at a decent clip
someone tried to cut them off
Mom was ready to wig out, curl up and dye, but thankfully
Dad went to great lengths to avoid an accident
so there was no permanent damage
you had to see it to be-weave it
Ok, time for a couple of jokes to lighten the mood:
How does the man on the moon trim his hair?
Eclipse.
Why did Pavlov have such fabulous looking hair?
Conditioning.
Why do felines groom with their tongues?
They can't find their catacombs.
Why did the little girl watch "Black Stallion" more than "Babe"?
She liked pony tales more than pig tales.
What was the barber's sign before he went on vacation?
"Hair today, gone to Maui"
Did you hear about the novelty store selling fake piles of dung?
It was sham poo.
Just teasing!
Take hair,
Curly
When Ravenous Wolf, Prowls At Our Home's Open Door
Of beauty, paintings, flowers and smothering Art
Dares not the innocent truth- ever the race start
Or prisoner, trapped lamb- shear its own white fleece
By all the vanished gods, Death's hands embrace Greece
And dawn's beauty loses its most radiant glow
Whilst blighted forests listens to cackles of crows!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Down in the dark valleys, poisoned rivers freeze
Beasts above, seek delicious prey with such ease
Alas! Dare we in futile wish cry tis no so
And in fanciful dreams -beg that peace and love show
Within hope of tomorrows, believe such will cease
For we recall, magnificent heroes of Greece!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Life and Love must walk through darkest days hand in hand
In this our thought to be enlightened world we stand
Not as sheep to be slaughtered at merest of whims
If we fear ravenous sharks in seas we'd not swim
Or during pitch black nights we would cower inside
And miss seeing the heavens and moon's golden ride!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Such temerity would joys of life thus abolish
Do we allow world its false mirrors to polish
Nay! We prove such hatefulness we will not abide
While in arms of love and truth, we with grace reside
Shall we pray that ever greater Light gift us more
On us all, God's sweet mercy Heaven softly pours!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-13-2021
Dark rhyme,
( We may only keep, that which we are brave enough to defend )
This poem was born from blessed inspiration found this morn
While I was commenting to a friend, a very fine fellow poet….
She looks out the window and sees him in the distance.
So much fear inside leaves no room for resistance.
If she ran right now she might be able to get away.
With every broken rib she's nothing more than a cliche.
She was once a strong woman, and could stand on her own.
Now he's broken her will and more than one bone.
Run, run, run her mind screams in shear terror.
She unlocks the door without so much as a prayer.
Maybe this time will be different and he won't be mad.
Somehow she has to tell him he's about to be a dad.
She should have taken that card and called the hot line.
Her whole world changed as soon as she got the plus sign.
If she can make it thru the night she'll pack up and leave.
Somewhere deep inside she knows that's only make believe.
She's his till the end, come hell or high water.
There's nothing anyone can do about the oncoming slaughter.
The National Domestic Violence
Hot Line 1-800-799-7233
Our Midnight The Unseen Within
( Collaboration )
Silent unto our sense, yet musical
With eternal harmony, they move
About our darkened vision, the beautiful ones,
Angels of destiny.
Pale with the dawn, sun-golden with the noontide,
They mingle with our moments;
There is no sadness that they do not share,
No night they are not near.
Even as flowers that scent the roving winds
With fragrant incantations, - flowers unseen,
That loose the largess of their beauteous dreams,
Even so are they.
Bequeathing endlessly for our delight
The gifts we spurn, the secret revelations
Would make us in our needless misery
True kindred of the Soul,-
A holy kiss to marry us with light,
These sheens where cherubins loose their waxxen wings;
Shear the shadows where fear is oft found,
And quell doubt like a startled imposter
A righteous device to lead us home.....
A wanton wind to soothe the wayward ails;
A flame-cold but bright to illume every wan,
We sleep unbeguiled, where angels tread
What secret shadows skulk to maim?
Strip our bones to sudden death?
Move they winnowed and tarried -----
Helpless to the winged, swift eye
A keepsake (say many) beat of feather;
Hope gives us peace in those hallowed hills,
Where the angels sing like larks and cry a tear of love:
(Our midnight)
Robert J. Lindley and Keith O.J. Hunt,
2-21-2016
Note:
First 16 verses written by Robert Lindley
Remaining 16 verses 16 written by Keith O.J. Hunt
Away from the fever and fret of life
In absolute stillness, in abject surrender
Looking into the core of my being
In deep silence and solitude
In an ardent gesture of adoration
I was in dialogic communion with God.
In that divine setting, I heard the spirit whisper,
“Shear off the cumbersome, get down to the essentials.
Petty fears and petty pleasures are just shadows.
Search not for the transitory but seek the eternal.”
A rare quiet flooded in and engulfed me
The window of my soul opened to light,
And the hidden well springs were revealed to me.
I became part of the silence, merged with the harmony.
In my nothingness, I found my all.
‘Heard the harvest song of inward peace.’
Never was a moment more perfect!
Under the ‘Bodhi’ tree, that moment stood alone!
Love Passionately
To love passionately is to love freely without expectations. To love with all your heart deeply, holding nothing back giving more than one thought possible. This love excites more than any aphrodisiac known to mankind.
To love passionately one experience’s moments of shear excitement at the thought of their true love. Loving without ever thinking of oneself, frees the mind and body to love without ever holding back. This love is deeper and has no regrets; as you never think about what if, because you just love!
To love passionately gives you such pleasure you can hardly think or breathe at times; as this love and passion just comes back to you. Loving without thought of yourself brings happiness, inner peace, and fulfillment to you along with all the passion you so freely give.
Debbie Knapp
06/22/2013
TEMPEST
Twin limestone tors thrust up through valley floor
Like isles or icebergs in a calm flat sea
Deep green save where shear rock can hold no spore
To spawn in fecund niche a vine or tree
Midday and all is calm untroubled, still
In tactile heat, all movement paused, restricted
No hint of ought that might disturb our will
A landscape placid, as in paint depicted
But look to sky the seeds of change are sown
There, signs portend a transformation near
Those gentle clouds mere cumuli have grown
To cumulonimbus, thrust t'ward stratosphere
And therein is enormous might enclosed
Stored energy, that soon must be released
Unleashing primal power unopposed
The laws of Nature never to be breached
Now lightning flickers o'er far mountain peaks
Faint thunder echoes round steep valley walls
The breeze accelerates and chills to speak
A warning of the fast approaching squall
The charge in air: has swallows energised
To move from circling low ‘tween tree and house
Their flight plans now are recklessly revised
To helix soaring t'ward the threatening clouds
A steady light drum roll on roofs - sound train
Starts gently then crescendo ends the prelude
Announcing clear the now impending rain
Prodigious splashes transformed to a deluge
The waves of rain traverse our panorama
Gauze curtains drawn by cosmic stage hand's might
Relentless, recasting features as of dark drama
Familiar scenes are shrouded, hid from sight
Now random electric arcs flare bleak view scanned
Cacophony of thunder rules all sound
Awesome darkness and confusion on the land
All visual anchors cast in shade spellbound
But in this world each cycle must be ended
Perhaps reverse events that had us unmoored
The drama, soon is played out and expended
Peace, light and order gradually restored
Known reference points can once again be seen
The twin rock peaks come clear through rain-washed air
Clouds make fine-spun white wraps for hills now green
We're reassured by prospects known and fair
Is this chronicle an allegoric tale
Of human life not granted free of strife
Would we choose bland existence without travail
Or fain confront the magnificent storms of life
Best of friends
Are me and ewe,
Ain't no ends...
For us two...
Spent all the day
One day a year,
Running away
From our shear
Not with our kin
And not in the barn,
Not soon to be in
Grandma's yarn
Lucky is the cow
The heifer, the bull,
The piglet and sow
Never lose their wool
We're getting lost
Nowhere to be seen,
Licking the frost
In a meadow green
Feeling so free to
Frolic with the bees,
Where long grasses grew
Nearly up to our knees
Love to sniff each
Dandelion and daisy,
Temptation in reach
Drives us both crazy
Had eaten our fill
Before the bumbles,
Rolled on a hill
Taking tumbles
Me and my buddy
Finding trouble,
And getting muddy
In a pile of rubble
Fleece, white as snow
Not telling Mother,
All that we know
About one another
Of the springtimes
The unicorn, the fairy,
The nursery rhymes
About us and Mary
Best of friends
Are me and ewe,
Ain't no ends...
For us two...
Silent unto our sense, yet musical
With eternal harmony, they move
About our darkened vision, the beautiful ones,
Angels of destiny.
Pale with the dawn, sun-golden with the noontide,
They mingle with our moments;
There is no sadness that they do not share,
No night they are not near.
Even as flowers that scent the roving winds
With fragrant incantations, - flowers unseen,
That loose the largess of their beauteous dreams,
Even so are they.
Bequeathing endlessly for our delight
The gifts we spurn, the secret revelations
Would make us in our needless misery
True kindred of the Soul,-
A holy kiss to marry us with light,
These sheens where cherubins loose their waxxen wings;
Shear the shadows where fear is oft found,
And quell doubt like a startled imposter
A righteous device to lead us home.....
A wanton wind to soothe the wayward ails;
A flame-cold but bright to illume every wan,
We sleep unbeguiled, where angels tread
What secret shadows skulk to maim?
Strip our bones to sudden death?
Move they winnowed and tarried -----
Helpless to the winged, swift eye
A keepsake (say many) beat of feather;
Hope gives us peace in those hallowed hills,
Where the angels sing like larks and cry a tear of love:
(Our midnight)
First 16 lines written by Robert Lindley
Last 16 by Keith O.J. Hunt
Torturous separation. Intellectual blindness.
How your brilliance and intellectual dominance fascinate me.
Looking into your baby eyes wide and blue, I still see your knowing awareness, high voltage connections.
You laughed as a baby, with me, or at me?
How quicky did you discover our world's stupidity? When did your broken heart shear your funny bone, too?
Have you not yet accepted terms of this life, clicked the check box and exposed your vulnerability? Will you acceed to your lack of control? Will you reach out to the only concrete anchor we have? Will you embrace the lonely hopeless souls looking for the same relief you are desperate to know?
We all walk the same funeral march into our graves. Won't you pick up a piece of love, entertain some forgiveness, and carry some peace on the way to your certain destiny?
A clear blue day in the mountains to see
The sun shines through the cold air, all around
Hills of white snow blown up against each tree
The air is refreshing, the sun cheery
Each distant mountain top is wearing a crown
A clear blue day in the mountains to see
A shear of white clouds move on by quietly
It’s like the trailing of a satin gown
Hills of white snow blown up against each tree
With the skies wide open, it feels so free
It is all peaceful in this country town
A clear blue day in the mountains to see
It would be nice to have you here with me
Viewing the sights of this snow covered ground
Hills of white snow blown up against each tree
The beauty of winter can bring such glee
The calmness of nature without a sound
A clear blue day in the mountains to see
Hills of white snow blown up against each tree
Heidi Sands
2/1/19
Conches scattered in shifting sands,
Ocean's painted art from high tide,
Caring not of past life inside.
Lovingly cupped in tiny hands,
A child of six years finds great joy.
Dirty hands bother not, this boy.
He lifts one to ear where he stands.
His bare toes dug in dampened silt,
Near sandcastle that he just built.
Dancing to sounds of seashell bands,
He squeals shear delight at the tune.
A sight that makes his mother swoon.
Ocean music, he understands.
He remembers time on Dad's ship.
Dancing stops and a tear does slip.
Conches scattered in shifting sands,
Lovingly cupped in tiny hands.
He lifts one to ear where he stands.
Dances to sounds of seashell bands.
Ocean music, he understands.
Written 11/25/17 for
Craig Cornish/Constanza Contest.
this enchantment
it cannot be measured
it cannot be weighed
it cannot be told in time
or days
yet here it is as i'll describe
tis in my riding
tis in my play
tis in my working
each and everyday
my worship has dwindled
my real prayers are sinful
and my god is a genie
who's bottle is covered with sand
my love is the maid
Dane Anne
and thousands of suitors
have ask for her hand
all dressed like princes
in gem's and furs
lined with red and purple silk
armed with jewel encrusted stilleto's
and gold belts
capes with gold and silver
tapestry all with original designs
of family crest
Noblemen and boys
riding every kind of fanciful horse
smooth, brushed and well feed
but their confidence
is all but drained
by shear number of similar suitors
but beauty and prize
will not let them leave
and such as i but in
much lesser degree
of nobility
a commoner, a peasant, a spoiler
one who would pluck the flower
before it was meant to be plucked
one who's eyes have been challenged
beyond lust
one who's faith has come to believe
that this fair maid Dane Anne
belongs to me alone
no man has suffered
as much as i
to be over looked as a suitor
a sore in one's eye
yet no one can care more
or even try
for her hand i give all
and perhaps i'll die
for all my waken moments
find her haunting still
this magic over me
it must be her will
can such beauty cast
such an evil spell
that if thinking for
myself; i cannot tell
or is there a cupid
a godly spell
one that takes my willingness
under his own will
perhaps possessed by a spirit
who through love
can only live
empowered by my weakness
demanding that all i give
but such this state
i am
and complain, i do not
for such a gift is love
that will never be forgot
(Verse 1)
Gathered in an antique bowl
All the letters from their joyful life
Kneeling like prayer, she’ll stoke the fire
She’ll burn the words, they are for her alone
(Chorus)
Like unwritten pages..
Hopes, cries, dreams, sighs
Will flow out, debris after rain
Our untold stories..
Smiles, scrapes, charms, the screams
Will go out, smoldered by rain
(Verse 2)
Countless hours make a life
Shear number of moments stun
Commotion, struggled swim
Ripples will calm to glass
(Chorus)
Like unwritten pages..
Friends, shams, loves, spills
Will flow out, debris after rain
Our heartfelt stories..
Kids, aches, meals, the scars
Will go out, smoldered by rain
(Musical interlude)
(Chorus)
Like unwritten pages..
Jokes, peeves, pets, lies
Will flow out, debris after rain
Our ancient stories..
Thrills, falls, truths, the hells
Will go out, smothered in sand by time
Listen to this as a song!
http://www.soundclick.com/bands/page_songInfo.cfm?bandID=41813&songID=12477597
_
The anorexia is not conspicuous,
being half-submerged, just
breaking through.
She’s a powdered mirage.
Her skin a hyaline shear
drawn over a necklace
of clavicle bones.
She knows her chest
is returning to childhood,
she wants to shelter there,
to be her own child.
Small breasts bob under
burgundy nipples,
buds made more prominent,
anchored as they are
to shipwrecked ribs.
Designer bling distracts.
Cameras whir, she poses,
one hand on a denuded hip,
not resting there,
but stealthily carrying
an ounce of flesh,
toward a spotlight.
We collude with her,
applaud the way
she decorates a condition.
We all know her emaciated beauty
is a mutual hoodwink.
We know that the closer to death
sexuality becomes,
the more rapacious our appetite,
the more we will wail,
as she slips
through our hungry hands.