Long Beauty salon Poems
Long Beauty salon Poems. Below are the most popular long Beauty salon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beauty salon poems by poem length and keyword.
There is a pub next door to a beauty salon,
On the main street of our town.
Men go there to drink.
All day and every day.
Next door to a beauty salon
On the main street of our town.
He stands,unsteady in the doorway
Pulling on the remains of a roll up cigarrette.
Lungs,already weak,inhaling right down to the last ash
.
Unkempt,unshaven,his eyes unsteady stare at nothing.
No longer believing in life, love or that tomorrow,
next week or year will be better.
Unlike the young girls, beaming with life,
sitting inside the beauty salon,next door to the pub,
On the main street of our town.
Oh! My gosh. What is it with the girly girl
Adventure?
They say looking great is a lure
To capture
An amore. To me that's a whole other
Venture.
I am such an amateur.
I am not looking for any more pressure.
Now on to the brochure
Which supposedly has the beauty cure.
Their prices are not high on expenditures
It features
Hair cut to style which includes shampoo,
Dry, make over, manicure,
And pedicure
All done at our leisure.
For our listening pleasure
All work will be done to the overture
Of Bach which some deemed as torture.
Any way the end result was everyone comes
Out a beautiful relaxed creature
Who has been in hiding like a lost treasure.
We are supposedly feeling less insecure,
And more sure,
Of our future.
I need a picture.
One dollar and eighty seven cents was hardly enough to buy
a Christmas present. Aside from the gold watch gifted to him
by his dad, that was all James and Della had. Della had long
blond hair that reached down to her knees. James would often
tease her by calling her Goldilocks. But she always reminded him
that she was more like Rapunzel.
Their neighbors, John and Dianne were quite wealthy.
However Dianne was battling cancer, and had lost all her hair.
On Christmas eve the two couples went shopping for gifts.
Della, desperate to buy a gift for James sold her hair to a ritzy
beauty salon. With the funds from that sale she bought James
a chain for his gold watch. Meanwhile, James sold his watch
and bought Della an assortment of beautiful combs and hair clips.
On Christmas morning the presents were opened. James was stunned
to find that Della had cut off all her hair. Della was shocked to learn
that James had sold his gold watch. John was quite pleased with
the gold watch Dianne got him. And she looked ravishing in the wig
of long blond hair John got her. One dollar and eighty seven cents
wasn't much at all, but the gift of love is priceless. Merry Christmas!
*Image of La Bourrasque by FKR.
The Gust of Wind
A gust hath burst,
As she traversed,
A short-cut to,
Broad avenue,
Her black silk dress,
Looped to a mess,
Struggled full-length,
Maintained her strength,
Her matching shawl,
Challenging haul,
Onward she pushed,
Hasty ambushed,
The trail seemed gone,
As she dragged on,
Rounds disturbed leaves,
As the squall heaves,
Determined will,
Since birth instill,
The end result,
Foresees exult,
She soon arrived,
As winds hath died,
Wholly tangle,
Loose hair dangle,
She made no care,
About her hair,
Appointment yon,
Beauty salon.
2022 October 19
*1st Place*
Painting prompted
~~Lisa YY: Judged 2022 October 29
RZ & HMS; 4 syllables per 28 lines.
All the ladies of Poetry Soup
Have me wrapped around their fingers
Pulling me along by my big proboscis
As their lady smell doth linger
That scent that drives us male dudes wild
You guys know of what I speak
Not stuff you can buy in a beauty salon
That oh so feminine mystique
It's really damn difficult to turn it off
The reason we act like buffoons
We succumb and act so silly and stuff
Often we even bay at the moon
Like a bunch of silly young teenage dudes
We stammer when trying to speak
Our faces turn red, we bump into things
Sometimes letting out little shrieks
There is a cure, it's called commitment
How dare I suggest such a thing
There's just got to be a much simpler way
Perhaps a one night ring-a-ding-ding
All the ladies of Poetry Soup
Have me wrapped around their fingers
Pulling me along by my big proboscis
As their lady smell doth linger
© Jack Ellison 2014
Welcome to my barber shop,
Owned by the late Puddin' Pop.
That's my dad's picture in the frame:
Let me tell you how he earned his nickname.
Back in the summer of 1984,
My mom bought my sister and me to the store.
There was a barber shop next door,
And here's my pop. His name was William Moore.
I'm Calvin, his son; Anne is his wife;
Penny is my sister who loves Barney Fife.
"Hey, everyone," my dad said with a smile.
"I haven't seen you guys in a long while.
I just opened up my shop today:
What would you like? Let's get started right away."
My mom said, "You see this full head of hair?
Calvin looks like an afro grizzly bear.
He only needs a shape up and a little off the top."
But I was a little nervous and yelled, "No! STOP!
I don't look like no grizzly bear,
And there's no way you're getting me in that chair!"
So Mom and Dad thought of a scheme
To convince me to look fresh and clean.
Mom reached in the bag that was brought from the store.
What did she take out? I had to explore.
It was chocolate and vanilla pudding pops from Jell-O!
My sister and I were like, "HELLO!"
"Now son," said dad, "you don't need to fear.
Your mom, sister, and I are right here.
But if you want this frozen treat,
Stop your bawling and get your booty in that seat!"
My hair had to go. I didn't have a choice,
But to obey my father's strong baritone voice.
After 15 minutes, it wasn't so bad:
I received my first haircut from my dear old dad.
My mom paid $10 and gave me my dessert;
I was so happy, even with the stains on my shirt.
For almost 15 years, we've been going over there
To get rid of my so-called "afro grizzly bear hair".
Sadly, my Puddin' Pop passed away.
But his barber shop is still standing today.
There's been a minor change since he passed on:
Now it's a barber shop and a beauty salon.
My sister and I own both of these places
And loves the smiles on our customers' faces.
Every time we open our shops for the crowd,
I know in my heart that we've done our dad proud.
That's the story of this awesome barber shop.
Thanks for everything, Puddin' Pop.
Mirror mirror on the wall
I went to the beauty salon today
Silver strands ~ gone
Long dark wavy hair ~ beautiful
Bet you're jealous ~ ha
Twirling away and singing "because I'm happy" by Pharrell Williams
Six weeks later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
If you keep showing those silver strands
I'm going to give you some cracks
Bet you won't like that
Walking away mumbling how people are talking to her but their eyes upon her head
Days later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
What is the meaning of this
Each day I'm seeing more glitters spreading
I'm plucking them out but they seems to keep surfacing
"Sighing" knowing full well
She'll never beat this medallic battle
Weeks later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
I've come to realize these silver strands are the enhancing highlights of my life
For every silver strand had its own enchanting story
So color me away
They say she's too young to go silvering
Maybe they're right
Today...
Mirror mirror on the wall
Keep calm
And go authentically silverlicious
My hair
My beauty
My silver strands
Smile
Akkina R Downing
1-5-18
said
to have
a face of true
beauty so beautiful
too beautiful deserving
an Athenian beauty salon
curse
hours under
the sculpting
stylist's stolen eye
honey when i'm done
with you you'll rock their
socks off
so sitting back
closing her beautiful
eye lids of her beautiful
face she dreamed about how
the record holder for launching a
thousand ships
she'd do one better
so imagine how upset
her waking was when after
hours of snipping here and there
her stylist pronounced ta da my dear
taking
a look in
a mirror and
noticing she had
the same alabaster
facial skin of perfection
but
some
thing was
different she
couldn't quite put
a pin point on what
"the saga continues" part 2
always seemed to be
waking this time in an
acoustic cave dwelling
where hissing sounds
pingponged off the walls
time for another
hissy fit
from her another
day of waking
having a bad
hair
day
Form:
All the ladies of Poetry Soup
Have me wrapped around their fingers
Pulling me along by my big proboscis
As their lady smells doth linger
That scent that drives us male dudes wild
You guys know of what I speak
Not stuff you can buy in a beauty salon
That oh so feminine mystique
It's really damn difficult to turn it off
The reason we act like buffoons
We succumb and act so silly and stuff
Often we even bay at the moon
Like a bunch of silly young teenage dudes
We stammer when trying to speak
Our faces turn red, we bump into things
Sometimes letting out little shrieks
There is a cure, it's called commitment
How dare I suggest such a thing
There's just got to be a much simpler way
Perhaps a one-night ring-a-ding-ding
All the ladies of Poetry Soup
Have me wrapped around their fingers
Pulling me along by my big proboscis
As their lady smells doth linger