Long Beard Poems
Long Beard Poems. Below are the most popular long Beard by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beard poems by poem length and keyword.
I need another doe-eyed Doña Lola,
a tungsten-hearted torturer of men.
I crave a further fling at love’s tombola,
to beard the lioness inside her den.
Of course, it always runs into the buffers:
their sex is unremitting, unforgiving:
but he is truly fortunate who suffers:
to be in love again – that’s really living!
She must have bags of charm, and must deploy it.
I want to give my heart, have her destroy it,
or better still, to gouge it from my chest,
for when my love is spurned, I’m at my best.
I get to pout and pose, and blue-eyed-boy it:
and if the truth be told, I quite enjoy it!
By Phan Tan Hai
At midnight I trace the ancient pages,
golden dust of centuries settling thick—
hearing echoes of brushes, swords, and ink
returning to rattle open a full-moon festival.
Summoning old spirits drifting in the wind,
the Master searches, translating page by page;
comparing characters, the long night shortens,
copying lines of poetry vast as the sea.
I hear the old zither strings break into tears,
soldiers urging horses, their cries ringing out.
The Master records the soul of ink and paper,
his beard and hair dyed white by a thousand clouds.
---- Respectfully dedicated to Professor Nguyen Van Sam
they often
say hair and
fingernails grow
longer when one
is happily relaxed
they often say hair
and fingernails
grow longer
when one is
lifelessly
dead
my breathing has gone
from a shallow yawn
to something short
of a sigh
once i
stayed on
an isle and
a mirrorless
summer
simmered
passing by
my heart pacer
taking time as fast
as the mules
taking mail
to the cliff
topped town
of Thira
a turtle vs
snail race
sitting in a cafe
sipping a frappe
an hour into
drinking
when
someone's sound
broke my silence
asking how long
i'd grown my
beard
thoughts in Greek
and English speech
which of these
let me take
you down
to
Elysium's
Fields
Form:
Let me describe to you...my face, how I look
Taken from my photo...on the face of my book
I have one crooked eye brow...the one on the right
It grew back that way...when I shaved it one night
The wrinkles in my eyes...are spread like a bare tree
As for hair, I've got some...and that's cool by me
The bridge on my nose...and to your accord
Looks like to me...to be straight as a board
Twas a hole in my left ear...now fully closed
Back when, I wore an earring...when I wore wholly clothes
My chin swiveled slightly...'cause I'm chewing on gum
In the depth of my cleft...there's a scratch from my thumb
A rough scruffy face...from a two day old beard
WHAT! There's a tag on my neck...now that's a bit weird
I just noticed it now...while observing my cleft
It's sticking out below it...an inch to the left
There's a scar on my lip...below my mustache
That I got while fishing...an accidental knife slash
My face as a whole...narrow, and thin
Been out in the rays...got a tan on my skin
Ugly, I am, nah...but some might think so
Their heads must be big...eh, what do they know
Handsome, am I...not to sound bold
A good looking man, from my wives...I've been told
The whites in my eyes...all blood shot and red
From staying up late writing...when I should be in bed
Good-Night!
Okay, this isn't completely true. The photo wasn't from my book, it's me now. I don't have one crooked eyebrow, I have two. I'm NOT cool with having just SOME hair. The bridge on my nose is slightly crooked. The hole in my ear is on my right side, my chin is swiveling, but not from chewing gum. I have no cleft, the scar on my lip was no accident. I have no tan, it's winter. I am not ugly, I am handsome (lol) My eyes are blood shot, but not from being tired. And it's 8:00 I'll be up for hours.
Besides that, everything else is one hundred percent true!
The Metaphor Of Your Face Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
11-22-2019
A sunny corner
Dandelions, hair gone gray
In a spiked farewell
A howling wind
An ogre trimming its beard
A solstice shadow
Nipping and sipping
A scattering of empties
Dancing in the snow
Rainbows of promise
Stained glass shadows in the snow
Promises broken
Christmas promises
Lacking the honesty of
A raggedy angel
Visible presents
Old dogs covered with tinsel
Toothless chew toys
Snow had fallen, Christmas Eve morning,
On every rooftop and branch adorning
Burying my rural world in white,
And changing this place overnight
Early, I had wandered out the door,
Wanting to take in the forest more
I did gasp and my foot did pause,
When indeed, I saw Santa Claus
Standing alone there in the clearing,
Attending to his reindeer, so endearing
Quietly, I peered from behind a tree,
Hoping that he would not spot me
That day ... I did believe my eyes,
For the truth is hard to disguise
He was no man with a loose beard,
He was not the kind that children feared
Dressed up in a phony costume,
Wandering around a department store room
Golden jingle bells rang out their sound,
When his sleigh lifted off the ground
I knew that what I saw was real,
Because the young at heart can feel.
Both Freddy and Frieda Flea
Had an itch and felt the need
To leave their home on Beagle back
So they packed their bags while Fido napped
They'd heard magical tales of the Big Top
Since their larva days on top the pup
They weren't here this time to clown around
As they found themselves circus bound
They hitched a ride in a hobos beard
Too no telling who knows where
But one thing that is perfectly clear
Both those fleas are outta here
Along the way they purchased needs
In a marketplace made just for fleas
Like underwear and mint toothpaste
Soap on a Rope to wash their face
Plus deodorant, quite a bit
You need a lot of it when you've got 6 pits
The rumor mill can be very mean
Fleas, after all, are fairly clean
After a day of personal shopping
It was all aboard for more beard hopping
Riding that hobo from coast to coast
In this their new hairy chateau
As circuses go they started their own
Advertising on the hobos back cause he never turns around
Over time their acts they've modified
As the flaming hoops set the hobos beard on fire
Now with Freddy as Ring Master and Frieda on trapeze
They are the Greatest Show On Earth, at least among fleas
There’s a place, a space
Parallel to ours
I wear the same face
Have the same shoe size
But I wear fancier duds
It's a suit and tie
My hair is short, not long
I’m not sad there, I’m smiling
There must be no one to beware of
When I look in the mirror
I can kinda see him there
Staring back at me, somehow, I can tell
We don’t believe in God
Or heaven and hell
My vocation, my education
Is just beyond my comprehension
What is it that I do, exactly
In that other dimension
A world without war
Where people live without fear
Without wheels, or tears
No one seems to cry
I can only wonder why
No TV, or phones smarter than me
I’m still old but younger
Younger than here, anyway
I don’t walk with a limp, or carry a cane
I seem a little less insane
I can see a toothbrush
On the bathroom sink
Hygiene is just as important
As it is here
I probably don’t stink as much
As I do here
Even though I don’t see any deodorant
Like I have here
I’m all clean shaven
Not like here with my beard
But I'm not seeing any razor either, there
I can only wonder what I’m thinking
Or what I dreamt the night before
Who is this guy? Staring back at me
Who does he see; does he even see me here?
Perhaps he can’t
He’s got his mind intact
Not like me whose sanity is packed
Tightly around my neck
Making it hard for me to breath
He seems so much more at ease
Perhaps there is no disease there, either
Behind him, I can barely make out
That there’s a picture hanging there
A painting, of course, they have artists too
Of course they do, of course they do
I think it’s a family portrait
So, he’s not alone, like me
He looks so strong and confident
No glasses resting on his nose
No wrinkles on his forehead
He doesn’t have a pierced left ear
His head is slightly tilted, perhaps it’s on his right
I can also see a clock
I can almost hear it ticking
Away time, my mind, my heart
Summer's hunter-green fields yielded to autumnal beige
and vermillion,
soon came the frosted air and cardinals singing in
snowy pine boughs.
Deer shyly emerged from woodlands edge for feed
families left out,
winter sonata of our melody of long ago.
Your chestnut beard sparkled with ice crystals,
your large sienna-brown eyes of merriment.
Nearby home's smoking chimneys heavily encased
with snow and ice,
we'd playfully toss snowballs,
when our youth we thought of as lasting.
Crackling colored firelogs,
hot cocoa and pajamas,
cuddling neath a red plaid wool blanket.
Oh, the laughter,
the kisses of Christmas love,
watching the Jimmy Stewart-Donna Reed
movie, "It's A Wonderful Life,"
in its classical timelessness,
pearlescent doves and angel hair round
the tree.
Several snowbound days together,
we got to know each other in cherishing
of time as a newly bonded couple,
and welcomed our baby daughter the
following November.
Sweetly now,
as December is days away,
wishing you could walk over the
threshold again,
scent of Grey Flannel,
singing in baritone.
I can smell the burning hickory wood
and see our three stockings hung on the
hearth,
as wintry songs in the wind,
fill my hours of remembrance,
winter sonata of our melody of long ago. ~
I talk to my chest hairs every day
Hi there, you seem well endowed
You're coming along quite nicely now
There's four of you, you must be proud
Not long ago, you were only two
But as one thing leads to another
Passions explode in your frail bodies
And with hairy love you're smothered
At first signs of life, you waved with joy
As two tiny sprouts first appeared
A loving impression of a hairy family
My tears ran down to my beard
A shining example of a loving community
My beard started out like you guys
But that was quite a long time ago
Now a gathering of three hundred and five
The true measure of your value to humans
And the bliss your existence inspires
Unknown to many, the reason you exist
Is to absorb sweat as we nervously perspire
©Jack Ellison 2012