Long Coif Poems
Long Coif Poems. Below are the most popular long Coif by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coif poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember you holding me in your arms
Rocking me gently while singing lullabies
I remember when you lived a short walk away
Relatives were local and get-togethers were the norm
I remember your amazing purple mohair sweater
You knit exquisitely and wore so gracefully
I remember your scented creams and signature ring
I never grew tired of holding your hand
And telling you how much I loved you
I remember watching in awe your bedtime routine
As you meticulously undid your braided coif
Dropping your soft wavy hair to your waist
I remember you never missed Sunday mass
And held on to that glow throughout the week
You knew about plants with their healing powers
Neighbors came to you for answers and advice
I remember how you would scrape savings for travel
Always working in visits to friends who had moved away
I remember the aroma of the pies you baked
After tireless hours of quilting, sewing, weaving
Embroidery, knitting, crocheting, and whatever else
I remember there was nothing you couldn’t do
You started tutoring me when I was three
And probably earlier as I was eager to learn
It was my favorite form of play
I remember hearing your schoolhouse stories
I’d picture a little house in a field and your teacher attire
Your turn-of-the-century class full of kids
Then I’d let you continue teaching me to read, write and count
Though I wasn’t yet of school age
I remember being uprooted and moving to the country
Leaving city life and you behind
I remember how good life was when I had you
To turn to for support and guidance
Or just for your warm bountiful embrace
I remember getting that gut wrenching feeling
That bitter call in the middle of the day
As I was told the crushing news
I would never again see, touch or hold you
How can I not remember
The inconsolable devastation that never dimmed
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~ALWAYS WITH ME~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2026, 1st place 2020
Submitted on September 26, 2017 for contest LOVE FOR MOVIE SCREEN sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 2ND
Now what’s the matter with my hair?
It’s thinning balding -–such despair
As buddies jest that I’m ‘top gone’
With strands flaking one by one.
The barber whips piles of spray net
Yet coif flops, this manhood upset
While I grab the latest toupee
And style a bob which looks like hay!
Meanwhile, gals I need to attract
Believes new shave is a cool act...
With pierced ears studded, I am grand
Jigging on like a hip-hop band!
Dear me, today, life's all brand new
Nobody peeps at my head's view.
For Barry Stebbings’ Contest
Oh Dear, What Can The Matter Be 2/13/2018
Little hairs in certain cases,
are expected that we might see.
Arms and legs are common places,
as well as hair upon our faces.
On top of head, if no traces,
accepting bald, is what you'll be.
Lots of time, as well as money,
coif the hair, in styles aplenty.
Some may use in terms of measure,
when found in food, a real displeasure!
Little hairs sometimes on end,
results of cold, or perhaps frightened.
Little hairs grow as brows,
enhance the lashes, we do espouse.
But when we age, some do appear,
as little tufts upon the ear.
We all spend time giving chase,
of little hairs out of place.
Oh Dear, What Can The Matter Be
Oh Dear, what can the matter be
the mirrors all lie – they never flatter me
all they see is a much larger – fatter me
they should be charged with reflective battery
I think the wash shrunk my favorite top
for when I inhale – the buttons pop off
Oh Dear, the jeans in the glass
cannot be mine – just look at that ass
it cannot be true – there must be a flaw
there’s double the chin beneath a slack jaw
Oh Dear, look at that matted coif
I started teasing and just couldn’t stop
Dear, dear, it just isn’t fair
that reflection - it’s perfectly clear
full of looking glass malice
a “Rabbit Hole” palace
that tortured poor Alice
Oh Dear, what can the matter be
why must I seek flat glass flattery
2/1/2018
submitted to – Oh Dear, What Can The Matter Be – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Barry Stebbings
In a passion of fashion, at the height's
of female pulchritude; try as she might,
Wobbling to walk on five inch stilletos;
All she got were awkward gawks from the fellows.
So not a cat but board walk by the sea,
In a trashcan, she cast away, those shoes from her feet.
Immediately relieved in the sand standing bare;
Eyes closed, to smell and hear, seeming more aware.
As designed her designer dress, to her feet fell flimsy.
Her undone coif flowed with floating thoughts Botticelli.
She slowly approached the ocean's sound, waves rushing meaningless;
Yet covering enough of her legs; then waist, giving rebirth to Venus.
Eight inches of snow saw no hat on his head
an act of derring-do, my father said,
He ascended the steps
the eyes of the world upon him
An orator attacking the lectern
~ Camelot, out to shatter Babylon
The glare of the sun no match
for the glint in his eye
Brisk winds no challenge
to the stylish coif he held high.
He measured the moment
took a deep breath
Out came an aria
~ nary a shibboleth
Tall and straight, he stood
erect as a soldier
firing words like bullets
targeting the mind's heart, to pull it
jabbing the air with his fist or his finger
pausing ever so briefly
~ he let the message linger
He moved us, he touched us,
lifted a nation's heart
without sham or deceit
~ only truth from his lips
did ever depart
He proposed the Peace Corps
to inspire the young--
For those older and wiser
he combined graciousness
with toughness
in a diplomatic
sharp-edged tongue
To Nikita Krushchev, the Soviet,
baring his claws,
Our leader's barbed-wire message
surely gave pause:
"Let us remember...
...sincerity is always subject to proof
Let us never negotiate out of fear.
But let us never fear to negotiate."
And to all 180 million Americans watching
in person or on the tube
~ He issued this challenge
destiny ringing, resonant rendezvous:
"Ask not what your country can do for you
ask what you can do for your country."
It's now 55 years later
and America's not seen
a President like Kennedy
~ to inspire us to dream
Ominous Foreboding Augurs...
Innocuously incubated kindled
imperceptible dire strait
restlessness like tinder
with pinterest Deutsche agitate
barreling like a freight
train running so much
faster than an eight
track uber twittering,
rumbling, quickening and inculcate
dissension among dissolute
rabble rousers, who
do obediently initiate
rank and file will not abate,
boot re:reed out (bus) soon,
thence coalesces into ablegate
insidious encroachments
no longer patiently await...
ideal conditions to hatch
schism within parched
soil perfect for hate
mongers of democracy
breeds anarchy to facilitate
chaos, which quickly spreads
like kudzu, or wildfire Arson
Welles immediately forcing leader
of free world to abnegate,
(heard to trumpet "FORGET
THE WALL" mate),
(despite being caught in his
pink frilly underwear), to late
for Mar a Lago escape, where
formerly great wealth did
pool lightly coagulate
elite class heard faint stir of echoes,
then earsplitting clangorous louder
than an ICBM din (er bell)
rent asunder forcing
freedom of "FAKE
MEDIA" to abdicate
all the while pointing beringed
index finger to accentuate
his Taj Mahal ululation
interspersed veni, vedi,
veci stopping for spate
to coif (died in the will)
hirsute and aerate
said wind swept hairdo
pausing every now and again to snap
selfie portraits, plus
instagram loved ones to alleviate
that pompous, outsize,
and humongous ego fast deflate
ting into a shriveled up POTUS
float hissing boilerplate
hot airy premature ejaculations,
he would not capitulate
(sooner be rocketed
to Pyongyang and cell bate
good times with Kim
Jong-un to emasculate!
I now absolve myself
that aforementioned jest,
a tongue in cheek diatribe belies
my means to predict any forecast,
yet if any resemblance
of chance events
materializes between
my pablum childishness at best
there could arise fruitful market
for kitsch sheen collectors items
high as Mount Everest!
Another season nears its end
closing the doors on the dreams we played pretend
in the days we hoped would never end;
a place where times are unchanged secure in their shells,
endeared moments regained within a magic spell
of holidays and holydays renamed, long memory held;
the antique reservoir of child and adult things
knickknack recalls of earlier life scenes,
glass framed doors in their revealed etchings
the items of fading Christmas collections
angels, shepherd, manger scene recollections
when moments are shared with love and perfection.
Close the doors, clean the glass, dust the trinkets off
the memories are stored that ever hide beneath the coif
hold them close, embrace them within your heart soft,
the season closes in on the once opened doors
and suddenly within the somber quiet
Christmas is hidden behind the curio doors.
A Grinch’s Lament/with apologies
I remember the Christmas I first met the Grinch
his whining, his snarling, his poke, and his pinch
I never knew why - but I liked him right off
his yellowish teeth - his green tussled coif
the way that he moved – a snake in full coil
awaiting the chance to strike - to despoil
whatever the Who’s might be trying to do
the way he loved making the Who’s – go BOO HOO
I laughed when he emptied all the Who’s houses
took the cheese from the little Who mouses
ate all the cookies and took the roast beast
truly the Grinch didn’t care in the least
I felt a slight twinge about Cindy Lou Who….BUT
HE WAS A GRINCH….WHAT ELSE COULD HE DO
I cheered when the sleigh reached the top of Mount Crumpit
urged him to PLEASE….GO AHEAD…..DUMP IT!! DUMP IT!!!
I couldn’t believe he succumbed to the glee
of the carols they sang – without any tree
or his heart would expand – his evil would shrink
he’d clean himself up – tone down his Grinch stink
I cringed when he rode into town on the sleigh
he was the Grinch – it shouldn’t turn out this way
So I tossed the Grinch and his book on their head
sat eating stale crackers – alone – in my bed
John G. Lawless
8/8/2015