Long Barber Poems
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My daddy, he gave me a silver dime
For to fetch him a bucket of cider.
My mama, she tended the laundry line,
With a big wicker basket beside her.
I took a hard left at the barber pole
And I walked past a drunk by the deli.
He was likely reliving his throw-away years
In some dark nightmare’s underbelly.
The Ferris wheel is frozen in place
By the exotic dancer’s cherry tree.
The sideshows provided the usual freaks,
Teasing gut brain and muscle memory.
An ascot wearing yacht rock commodore
Come ashore for his usual wage:
A pickpocket imperialist strutting the boards
On his chosen colonial stage.
He came from some tiny Alpine principate
After stealing a movie star’s roadster.
Just know for a fact that it weren’t Lichtenstein,
It was really Lichtenstein’s monster.
He has black labs, brewskis, and bluebirds
Neatly baked into his trendy man bun.
For when a little dab ‘ll do ya, as they say,
Who needs all that greasy kid stuff?
He’s just another two-bit clown
We see his pants fall halfway down.
There’s no understanding really what he did.
He claims he played marbles with the Sundance Kid
And the barkers lined the midway
From the high bridge to the gateway,
As I marveled at the wonders I saw
In this place they call Carnival Town.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
A SUCKER BORN EVERY MINUTE
I took my son to the barbers today, and I sat there and I thought about how it compared to when I was small,
All of the equipment is battery driven, but way back when it was scissors that were usually blunt,
The seat for a child was a plank of wood, but now they have a comfortable seat to make them feel good.
They asked my son about his style, but a long time ago it was just short back and sides.
The tools they use today seems to be all throw away as I look around the shop,
but a long time ago they were sharpened on a long leather strop.
My son got to choose who cut his hair, he chose Rosa, but I had only one choice, old Bob Fenner and I am absolutely certain he charged less than a tenner!
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
Said the clown with a funny face.
Many different cultures.
Within the human race.
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
A lion, a bear, an elephant, a giraffe.
Many different animals.
All which make us laugh.
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
A barber, a tailor, a dressmaker's store.
Many different occupations.
Make your way through the door.
A Catholic, A Christian, A Saint, and A Jew.
Many different religions.
While we feed Central Park's pigeons.
Who's who in the New York Zoo?
Said the man with a great big shoe.
Find your subway to paridise!
Zoo York Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2010,2014..All rights reserved
January 24th, 2023 Hair washing heralds huge happening
Hark….the herald angels sing, and twitter
for mass communication
mediums stop the presses
when I, a regular schlemiel
take shampoo to mine matted mass mop
(no less than once a week)
of straggly follicles, and commence
to dispense with the heady eco system
viz rare crop of flora and fauna
(some rank as endangered species)
rub and band together
to scratch envy of
flaky key neigh bring ponytails
and create quite an niche,
and where also can be found
lousy knit wit vendors ready to scalp
and give shaft to razor sharp purveyors,
who mane lee scout out available
head and shoulder room to nap
without a stir, tub bed down
(praying Holy Scott no wash out
nor Harris mint occurs),
or burrow vis a vis,
where subcutaneous porous droplet size
watership down pieces
of prime residence found
counting one mister comb lee
bald bold faced realtor
amidst competing rival
bulb buss Edward scissorhands
(with knot to heavy a price toupee)
affianced to rapunzel,
whom he sheared split ends
as her barber of civil,
one dapper dander ruff dude to offer
lice cent shuss insects a tonsured
cut above other stylish habitués
preferring to fraternize,
glad-hand, and hobnob
amidst a cluster of big wigs
housed by yours truly - Samson
in gleaming puffy pompadour
pads tightly secured
with the best dreadlocks,
which harum-scarum
green barrettes serve
as first line of rinse able defense
IdentityGuard (with franchisee
Bob O Link averse to split hairs, but fierce
as a Mohawk and ring leader
to protect any curl of mine)
waving away intruders,
who if insist tubby persistent
and tangle with fate
cannot expect camaraderie
from buzz cutting crew i.e. the fuzz
to give expletive filled lathering,
severe shame poo wing subjugation
plus an up braiding experience),
and teach stragglers
they will suffer
a real perm in hint bang up job
if they brazenly brush
against brylcreem of the crop
rooted as rightful heirs
(hairs) of tousled doo mane,
thus concludes my tail.
Postscript: Yours truly
an aging long haired
seventh generation pencil neck geek
finds ultra joy when
volunteering for kitchen duty,
hence imagine the hypothetical picture
portraying Geico caveman
mimicking pseudo dawn of humanity.
There Once Was A Man ...
There once was a man, oh so brave
Who would sleep in a hole, called a grave ...
Well, him being the host
To so many a ghost,
He arranged a big bash, called a rave
In days of Neanderthal knaves
When the men ruled like kings in their caves ...
and not being too keen
About keeping them clean ...
Often took on some wifes, called them slaves
There once was a man with a stave
Overseeing a holy enclave ...
Well, maintaining a grin
While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave
There once was a monk with a wave
Who desired a head with a shave ...
Well, the barber was such
That she cut back too much
Thereby leaving his globus concave
There once was a man in the nave,
Although pious he could not behave ...
But they paid him no mind,
’Caus his name was maligned,
Being simply a sinner to save
There once was a man quite depraved
A voluptuous life was thus craved ...
Well, continuous sin
Ended doing him in -
On his tombstone they carved ‘Misbehaved’
Beware the pieces of the puzzles of your life.
Treasure them early; appreciate them for life.
She was the sight of my first job opportunity away from the farm.
She bridged the social gap between 'my boyhood and my manhood'.
He had a shoe store when I asked him for a job, and he said yes.
His name was Abe, and I have him to thank for many lessons learned.
She is the sight of the first motion picture show that I ever watched.
She is the sight of the cafe with the best tasting hamburgers I ever ate.
He took me under his wings and taught me how to interact with people.
He portrayed the meaning of service, entrepreneurism, and persistence.
Her name means, 'Deer River', and as a child, I knew her as Issaquena.
She was the sight of a barber shop whose owner was also a musician.
She was the life blood of activities of every kind as the people mingled.
Abe and Issaquena, two unforgettable names attached to my early years.
Abe, a giant of a man; one piece of the puzzle that assisted me early in life.
Issaquena, a hometown street and an inanimate piece of my life's puzzle.
100221PS
A corner shop, a busy street
your mother's hand, your dragging feet
I can almost set the scene.......A messy rack of magazines,
A barber pole, some shaving cream, and jars of greasy Brilliantine
I try to picture you back then,
How many barbers have there been?
Your rosy cheeks, eyes shining bright,
above the crisp white cloth so tight,
around your neck. (You hated that!)
A squirmy worm, but there you sat
Your daddy waits to pay the bill
Darn it, won't you please hold still?!!
Today there's less to take off top
Behind you, I have snipped and cropped
My scissors fold and I must stop
and for a moment I was there...
and saw that small boy in the chair
Eddie/Dad
I try to see
back before
to who Eddie once was
just barely before when
the bending began
Eddie was after all
a cute child
wide eyed
hugging kissing and kind
Somehow horrible happened
It tricked and trapped his mind
Loud shouting screaming sounds
parents preaching pain
through domestic degradation
careless communication
fraught with frustration
Pass the potatoes please
then spilled milk smacking sensation
belt welts broken eggs no bacon
Get up go clean up
never ever interrupt
battles brief and abrupt
ranting and raving
mom misbehaving
Eddie helpless and in need of saving
experiencing what no child should be braving
Learning man lessons
before he started shaving
He can't depend on dear dad
who pretends perfection
in his ship shape barber shop
where his jolly joking rarely stops
Important friends doctors and cops
humorous happy back slaps
Eddie feels hidden looks and subtle attacks
Shoe shine simple
comic book quick
When the shop closes
Tearful Eddie gets another licking
At two times five even Eddie starts kicking
his hurt turns into fists swinging
runaway day trip escaping
Then away he starts staying
getting into trouble time
not enough praying
rules that need breaking
Who he'll become
there's little mistaking
what he wants he happily starts taking
He can't shake the mistakes
Travels life fast with worn brakes
Tears turn into lakes
He has and has caused
many heart breaks
Sometimes past prisons
Are to hard to escape
I think of my daddy
dear Eddie
and my soul shakes
Sometimes time ticks
Other times it just takes!
we sailed to the island, the island, the island
and would stay there evermore
with nothing to read but coconuts
and cocoa berries upon the tree
with no barber, Dennis or lawman
things could ghetto might strange
but we handle a leader (let's call him trumper)
trumper stood higher, and gave a screech
about a returnstile trip to sterilization
we stood up and jeered, Hooray, Hooray
but we be stripwrecked, cousin trumper, said we
what chance are we out in the farsighted lotion
where even the seagirls far outnumber us?
never minding that, he said we'll build a blue one
and us set about chirping down trees
at lust, the crate was finnish
two by two, we crumb aboard
and set snail for big indenture
to scoot for homely bound
but the beauty took on water
and we invaded to another shore
fierce sausages lined the bleachers
farmed with spearmints gone galore
we said our players, it looked like pretend
but the sausages made our breakfast friends!
brer trumper aligned a trick or treaty
the crew lived on believing children for eleventy years
Summer meant playing with cousins
Until the fireflies started to dance and glide
Soaring just beyond our small hands
And, then, sometimes reaching the end
Of a journey inside a Mason jar
Summer meant riding with the window down
In a gold Ford that was dented
Rusting and not too pretty, but sufficient
For rides through a small town
Where the square held a courthouse
Library, hardware store, barber shop
And so much more that I couldn’t see
Beneath the curly lashes that edged
My bright blue eyes
Summer meant dirt and dreams
Little things like laughter and happiness
Whispers into ears who listened
With a head held down for attention
To the details that were voiced
On the other end of vibrant emotions
Summer meant Granny’s cornfield beans
Fried okra and crooked neck squash
Delicious yellow cornbread and glasses
Of cold milk from the fridge
Where all the leftovers hung out in
Emptied butter and cool whip containers
Summer meant sunshine and laughter
Music that lasted through the night
And happiness floating
On the voices of kindness and hugs
That came from hearts
Who were so alive they actually
Breathed love from their blue veins
Summer meant ideas that were new
Fresh and moist as the dewdrop morning
Clinging to the dreams that smiled
Through thoughts of paperbacks and words
That gripped my young mind
Winding their way through my thoughts
Until I knew that all I wanted to hear
Were the miracles and fantasies
That came alive for me
Beneath the pen of some author
I knew must have hung the moon
With their brilliance and imagination
Summer bee stings and daydreams
Lifted my heart to new heights
And taught me about believing in the love
That grew surer and wiser
With the passage of each summer sun
A Meaningful poem poetry contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
March 24, 2021