Long Clean shaven Poems
Long Clean shaven Poems. Below are the most popular long Clean shaven by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clean shaven poems by poem length and keyword.
Three months into courting the woman
who's now my enchanting wife
She posed the question: where do you thin we're headed
I knew from the moment on the night we first met
and my heart had skipped a beat or two
But still I stuttered and I stammered as I gave her my reply
I would like to be together for the rest of my long life
Three foolscap of notes
were then thrust into my hand
Defining all the qualities
she desired within a man
Holy smoke!! I'll have to take these pages home
and polish up my game
But those pages were snatched back
never seen again
The next words that were spoken, I was notified
I don't do any length of beard
Holy smoke again!!! Thirty years had elapsed since I'd been clean shaven
Wondered 'bout this hairy face
what was it that she feared
So home I went, took a hasty reflex action
the whiskers off they came
Now not at all enamoured with the image
reflecting back from the mirror frame
Three days later I came back
to her homely little space
Not one comment, not even noticed
my newly acquired clean, neatly shaven bare face
There were many many days
when I regretfully shaved
regrowth of a beard is what I often yearned
The years have slowly passed and the beard
it has long since been returned
I cannot recall any details on the foolscap pages
from fifteen years ago
But please take note :
I must have filled the qualities she required
we're still lovingly together
For me that's eternal
Forever and forever she will be desired
I see Spring's telltale touch leave
ethereal fingerprints on dripping icicles.
And I smell Her sweet scent on every warm breeze,
as Her breath fills my lungs with fresh air.
I feel Spring playfully, taunting me, ever so softly
blowing sensually upon my neck, toying with me.
And as the sun rises higher, hosting differing hues,
melting snowflakes, morph into trickling streams.
I hear Spring's presence:
in the chirps of a cricket's forlorn trill.
And in the songs, songbirds sing, as the buds begin to
shadow trees in green stubble;
defying Winter's clean-shaven look.
I sense Spring summoning showers
to enhance Nature's breathtaking beauty.
While each color of the rainbow inks a plethora of flowers,
as the birds build nests, while the earth renews,
and Spring rains strip away Winter's white.
MY SILVER CAPTAIN
Oh his lips, at dawn
a brandished dark-brown moustache.
touché!
~
And when we’d been together
as man and wife,
for a measure of time,
the upper lip ~
a scrub brush
~
clean, shaven,
master of youth
~
time mussed up
his dark brown-hair
with lovely sprigs of silver
~
Oh, behold,
not quite yet
at the dawn of twilight,
a lovely sprinkling
of silver
dancing ‘round his chin
and lips
i celebrate,
and plant a kiss
~
season’s treasures
of misdirection,
through ups and downs.
mood’s chameleon
of jewels ~ polished,
deeper, love’s illume
once again,
with twinkling eyes,
this wife excites,
“touché!”
9/28/2017
It is the evening I have waited for,
stiletto heels three inches high adorned my feet,
real nylons hung from garters beneath a
skin tight, leather skirt of maraschino cherry-red.
A blouse of white silk, with a cascade of ruffles,
played peek-a-boo with my décolletage.
Outdoors, the rain pounded the asphalt
making the reality of his arrival even more bizarre.
A Harley barrels into the driveway.
Apparently, he thinks
he is Marlon Brando
and I am Stella?
I stand on the porch, a black umbrella
covering my new do, and watch as he
saunters through the puddles on the concrete walk.
The color of the umbrella my only
non-incongruent element in the frame, the scene made.
His smile was like a box of Chiclet's
on his clean shaven face.
He kisses me.
I lick the raindrop
from the tip of his Roman nose
and take hold of his Russian fingers.
He tosses my umbrella on the porch,
throws his black leather jacket over my shoulders,
lifts me off my feet, and carries me to the bike.
The sun breaks through the clouds and the rain stops,
just in time for the neighbors to glare at the sight of my legs
reflecting on the bikes chrome work.
Shake their respective heads
and donate a few wolf whistles.
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
She couldn't believe her luck with the knock at the door,
This day of all days, the one day she can will a way.
One can only trap with the appropriate bait laid;
She preened herself in the mirror plying red "trap set"
Winking at herself with the smack of the lipstick case.
She knows she's got one this time. (He'll make the perfect plate!)
Fine meat wrapped in brown, clean shaven and recently bathed;
The fresh scent of his flesh had her drooling already.
"How may I help you" (to myself? she thought with a smile)
"Oh hi" obviously surprised by her beauty, brash
As pheromones filled his lungs he forgot who he was
"I'm uh"... "You're here for dinner" she whispered in his ear
Taking the package and closing the door behind him.
17.10.13
Composed for Russell Sivey's
"Halloween Scare"
Alright no one here leaves
Until I get back my monkey
He was right here beside me
When we sat down at the bar
He got up to use the restroom
Cause my monkey is not uncouth
I KNOW he didn't just drive off
I still have the keys to the car
We were having the best of times
Telling jokes and making up zoological rhymes
He even passed around that picture
You know the one with the orangutan in that embarrassing position
That's the last time I saw him
My monkey...my best friend
Will somebody help me look please
These tears have all but blurred my vision
I've now checked every zoo on the East coast
Every circus that I know
Thinking perhaps he was monkeynapped
By some clown or zoological freak
I haven't seen hide nor hair
Of a clean shaven monkey in underwear
I told you he wasn't uncouth
My monkey learned that from me
These days I cry in my beer
Since my monkey's no longer here
I guess Doodles had better things
To do with his life
If my monkey, Doodles you ever do see
Will you tell him I miss him oodles for me
And that I've accepted the fact that he's not coming back
And that I'll be alright...
Online:Profile
(LIE): "Hi! I am a single man, Bachelor clean shaven not even a mustache"
Truth: I'm a cheat, dirty soiled minimal waged job go-tee liken a cat or muskrat
(LIE): Born in Saint Louis Missouri Own my Marketing Company
Truth: Birth in Caviler, Mississippi 2 generation catfish fisherman, got 2 girlfriends one I call my wife;
Have a total of 6 children (one's belongs to the mid wife);
(LIE): Live in a Town home paid for has 4 Bedrooms, Library, Den 5 baths;
Truth: I live in the what we call the bottoms in a shack;
(LIE): 28 Years old
Truth: 57 man that's bold your youngest girlfriend 20
(LIE): Picture posted Clean shaven, Good looking chiseled chin handsome neat trimmed hair
Truth: Such a old intended man with a mustache liken a 1920 criminal whisker like barbels around the mouth only got 3 teeth at bottom of his mouth
Looking like some crazy big-eyed Catfish a freshwater or marine fish with,
typically bottom-dwelling.
In reality I am not the picture posted, I'm not that good looking really
The cat fishing getting better and better fishing the Mississippi River,
far below its normal level
(LIE):Let's meet at a private(public) placement go on a date
Signed: Austen Daniels
Truth: My name is Alan Dunes Jr.
…...........“And I ain't got nothing but trouble for you we're gonna hook up on
Jerry Springer”
GIRLFRIEND,Ya just been...........
CATFISHED
05/12/18
Catfish - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Catie Lindsey
Black and White Yoyage
Ying and Yang come to mind that wakes up in the morning
Harmony the task for the day and the nights of the soul as
black coffee takes hold with bits of refined white powder
No credit card needed to shoot up the lines just sweetener
Money short as many times but the fangs of depression at
bay in the haven of a polychrome garden paradise around
Abundance mixes genesis and evolution blends the colours
cherishes diversity celebrates similarities holds dear all
the differences which we humans bring to the daily party
On my travels to Spain with bright sun and black secrets
in history memories civil strife and factional fracture
I stumbled into Guernica the painting the scream into hell
No hues no colourant just clarity’s pigment shadows and all
where the white flag of peace had been bombed into dust
with help of Mussolini’s black shirts and fascist brown hue
From a chessboard of aerial precision it was black or white
a foreplay of what was to come in the wars to proceed in
white ashen faces and clean shaven razor blades of demise
Back in South Africa’s so called rainbow nation I have digested
distorted figures of human targets screaming animals shattering
aeroplane parts sending Picasso’s message into the world
Black and white still struggle here overt and covertly where
Apartheid lives on some lives matter more than some others
in a country steam rolled by corruption of capitalistic greed
Coffee in hand and sweet sugar soothing my wake up call
it all seems so powerless when I as a minion of resistance
confide my wish for full colours to the message of love
Ying and Yang leaves no room for aggression no place for
killing fields in the pastures of plenty just whisks and whiffs of
what could become if understood we are all black and white
15th February 2017
None of these labels, titles or earthly things are a requirement to get into Heaven, Not None, so stop stressing over it. Nacho credit score, nacho degrees, nacho cars, nacho house, nacho race, nacho money, nacho age, nacho financial status, nacho CEO title, nacho president, governor, mayor, construction worker, plumber, hair stylist or mailman title. Nacho looks, nacho wigs or weaves, nacho 6 pack, diamond iced out necklace, or yo Moncler jacket. Nacho BBL or CDL. Nacho Cyber truck, dirty clothes, or clean shaven beard. Nacho Miss America title, private jet or yo smile. Nacho Superbowl ring and damn sho not no Oscar…
In this world, many want to achieve something. It is a desire to be rewarded with something that you have earned.
When you graduate from high school, you earn a diploma.
When you graduate from college, you earn a degree.
Sometimes when you excel at a job, you earn a raise and/or a promotion. Yet everyday, people overlook the fact that they are rewarded with God’s mercy and grace, yet can they actually say they’ve “earned” it? Our God is merciful, even when you don’t deserve it, He gives it. How Awesome is that?
Also, it’s amazing how everyone wants new stuff, more stuff, this stuff, that stuff… but, it’s nacho “stuff” that will get you into Heaven.
Do you know people cling and hold on to “stuff” for dear life. But you right, it’s yours, so be like the collection agency and keep collecting.
And as we all know, when you leave this world, it now becomes someone else’s “stuff.” You cannot take your “stuff” with you. Which means it will be left here for others to fuss over, fight over, hold on to, cherish, keep, give away or throw away.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying not to have nothing, accomplish nothing or it’s wrong to have nice things, God wants us to have nice things. All I’m saying is don't be obsessed, possessed, or stressed with or without these things. If something breaks or gets lost, it is not the end of the world.
Remember, it’s nacho stuff that goes to Heaven with you. Material things are replaceable, you are not.