Long Haircut Poems
Long Haircut Poems. Below are the most popular long Haircut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Haircut poems by poem length and keyword.
Now, as a general rule, sergeants are rather decent guys,
Compassionate, reasonable to a degree and uncommonly wise.
But woe to the private who incurs a sergeant's wrath;
That young feller is destined to tread a very treacherous path!
For minor infractions, privates are relegated to the latrine,
To scrub and polish therein to make it squeaky clean!
A prudent private daren't give his sergeant any sass,
Or he'll push a lawnmower, cutting acres of never-ending grass!
If in close-order drill and saluting he is less than deft,
The sergeant will nix his pass, leaving the lad bereft!
Lord have mercy if buttons are missing from his uniform;
That will incite the sergeant into a massive, raging storm!
If he fails barracks inspection, he'd best not make any plans,
For he'll be in the dining hall scrubbing pots and pans!
If his haircut is not up to snuff, that'll add to his plight;
He'll be pacing his post on guard throughout the lonely night!
Although some sergeants are more endearing than many others,
And some it seems could be loved only by their mothers,
A canny private will play the game and abide with all the guff,
Praying his hitch will end, never more to suffer all that fluff!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Week before middle school
Twelve and shy
Sent to get haircut
With three dollars
Clippers were brought out
I was too scared to look
I had never had a store-bought haircut before
The man had a funny smell.
I would not know it was alcohol for several more years.
He sang while he used a razor on my head.
When he was done I looked up.
He said "Three dollars son."
I started to cry.
A tear ran down my face.
He had given me a buzz cut.
I had not grown any kind of indicators that I
was a girl. I had never thought to tell him.
"Don't worry, Son," he said, as he took my three
dollars. "It will grow back."
So I went to middle school looking like
a male army recruit, at the age of twelve.
Worst year of my life.
At that time.
Every snip feels off.
I stare at my own hair.
The sides are sharp today.
The top does not feel right.
I run my fingers through.
It is different, maybe odd.
I pause, not sure I like it.
I hope it grows on me.
Maybe they will like it.
It could be a better look.
Could even catch some smiles.
The girls might notice too.
The mirror feels more kind.
The cut starts to take shape.
Maybe it just needs time.
It might be working out.
I take a breath, step back.
Maybe it is bold, maybe fun.
A quiet pat on my back.
Light catches every line.
I let myself smile a little.
It may be different, but I like it.
I own this change, I own the cut.
It feels good, it feels like me.
I walk away with a small grin.
Feeling good about what I see.
Different, yes, but bold.
I like this new cut on me.
My hair too long,
To match what I felt,
With hair you can identify someone like an animal by its pelt,
My hair would match the song,
The song in my soul,
I begged my dad,
He agreed hoping I would be glad,
And when my hair was cut off, my soul was whole.
Whole for the first time, no more rip between my looks and heart,
I looked like a boy,
Most girls would weep but I was flooded with joy,
Most girls would see the hairstyle as a mistake but for me I looked at my reflection as if it was a work of art,
The long hair was gone and so was my ache,
I felt real; I felt like me.
This haircut brought me lakes that turned to oceans of glee…
I did not feel fake.
This cut most boys would wear,
This cut was like gold to a poor man,
This cut was like a pale girl finally getting her long-wished tan.
This haircut reelevated an ache I almost couldn´t bear.
I finally felt like I was in the light…
My soul, my heart, my looks aligned like stars,
All finally leaving the cage with its long-haired bars.
This cut carried me over the mountain and into the valley of delight.
Many may never understand my joy,
Many may never understand why a young girl wished for such a haircut,
Many may never understand how the sharp pain that disappeared in my gut.
Many may never understand why a girl would wish to look just like a boy.
But I understand and I knew I rose out of the shadow casted by shoulder length hair,
But I understand that My soul, my heart, my looks were a puzzle finally complete,
But I understood this cut was where wishes and reality would finally meet.
But I understand what it means to me and whatever you think I do not care!
Stinky Stan the dustbin man
Was always less than fragrant
The aroma hung like cattle dung
And he looked like a vagrant
If you saw Stanley at his work
You’d never call him posh
He wore the same clothes everyday
And never seemed to wash
Our Stanley wasn’t stupid though
In every days collection
He’d find some bits worth having
And soon had a fine selection
Then, one day Stan the dustbin man
Decided to retire
Took his dirty working clothes
And tossed them on the fire
Had a haircut had a bath
A nice hot shower, then
Didn’t feel too different
So, he did it all again
He gathered his collection
All neatly catalogued
Took it to the sale room
Where it was promptly flogged
The piece de resistance was
A painting of a man
He didn’t know the artist
But the experts said Cezanne
It made a pretty penny
In fact a lot of money
So Stanley’s leaving Blighty
For somewhere warm and sunny
© John W Fenn 28-08-2009
Form:
Packed my 92-year-old dad
Into the old Lansing-made black Cadillac
To see the Detroit Symphony play at Wharton
We’re dressed up at the red light of Waverly and Saginaw
This vital busy corridor
Once home to Schmidt’s Estes Furniture Leonard’s Appliances
A golf course with sledding hill
Sully’s Drive-In
Now this crossroad is a Plasma Center a closed Rite Aid and a fortressed Walgreens
Along with the many amateur drug dealers
Meth heads wandering with their hook hands out on corners
Holding cardboard signs Anything Will Help
Hair wild like bamboo shoots
Golf course long ago abandoned the hill fenced off
An automated carwash over Hole 13
Next to us rumbles a pickup truck
Two huge flags stuck up in the wind from the rack in back
One
A faded dirty American flag
The other
Blue and black FxxK Biden
Two fat hillbillies laugh it up in the cab
Blow their horn
Children from nearby cars learn how to read
Shame
This is the capital city of Michigan
Wharton is jammed with suits and gowns
White-tapped graduation caps
The theater a carpet canyon of chatter
Next to the baton-poking Maestro from Italy
Stands a blond violin soloist with a sassy haircut
Red dress and red lips
A fire roaring to the center of those seated companions
Stringing and preening around her
She dips and weaves her wild bow under her chin
For 35 minutes of solo flame-throwing
At the end as we stand and bravo
I look over to my dad
He is weeping
“Are you ok Dad?”
“It’s just so magnificent what humans can do
And this will probably be my last symphony
And I was able to spend it with you.”
My mouth curls
I wonder whether this might be the last symphony
For any of us.
Photographers on the lawn were making such a fuss
Woke me up to tell me I was now in Queen of every country.
You mean in this hemisphere? I asked them. But no….
They meant I was Her Royal Highness In charge of the whole Universe.
What? Soon as I realized they were serious, I started making rules.
My first decree was that it was illegal to be a photographer now.
Go to jail or scoop out the fresh warm manure from the livestock barn.
Enormous poopy pigs are there, so they left quietly after a bit of squawking.
I decided that everyone needed a mansion, a fancy car and a swimming pool.
Some creepy politicians questioned this, so I chopped their heads off.
It seemed easier and less stressful than me arguing with the idiots.
All businesses had to go to barter and accept whatever anyone wanted to give.
If someone brings a dried leaf and wants a haircut, so be it. Accept the leaf.
Do not be crabby about it either, plebian. Be gracious and pretend you like it.
All people have to pretend they like each other. That was my main rule.
How did it get clear down to number 565 on the list? Had I taken my meds?
My most popular rule was
That everyone could drive as fast as they dared.
The sixteen-year-old drivers loved this one.
It went to number one on the list in no time!
Rule 2: I have peanut butter pancake waffles for breakfast every morning.
I loved being ruler of the world!
I was so good at it!
And I was powerfully loved until one of the sixteen-year-old drivers
accidentally ran over my car.
Written 8-24-2020
Contest: If I Ruled the World
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
(Was on a pic of a llama with a thick lock of hair on his head, styled in quite human like fashion and it was grinning. If u google llamas perhaps then u will understand what I mean)
This flesh 'n' blood cousin of the ship 'o' the desert
here is given that funky punky , stylish haircut?
Could it be optical illusion or screen manipulation
causing him to grin in mock jubilation?
And ain't he gonna toss those bangs like some real groovy llama?
My doesn't he look ready for any showbiz dromedary drama?
Ah yes, he does look handsome, do come have a view
of this fuzzy, comedy dromedary beau!
Send in the paparazzi, for he's already saying cheese
But he prefers his own kind, send in some lady llamas please.
Hey, like humans, llamas can stick their tongues out and spit to express displeasure
So keep your distance from angry ones or you will regret the mismeasure
The one I see in the picture is a cool llama teenaager
but he's no teeny-bopper, for he's a teetotaller
as no one ever saw him
with a bottle of gin or lager!
My mom bought me my first barbie,
When I was 5 years old.
I had her in my hands,
Looking up at my mom,
Feeling betrayed so I dropped her,
Saying only one word "Nope."
Then I turned and left the room in tears.
My dad laughed saying that's my girl-
She did tell you she wanted a G.I. Joe.
My dad brought her back and smiled,
Barbie is not happy, she told me,
She wants a makeover.
Barbie got her makeover little girl style.
Barbie got a haircut, boots,
Army uniform and weapons.
She now calls herself G.I. Barbie.
She was last seen with her brother,
Joe and the platoon loading,
Into a C-5 headed to the Gulf.
I looked up at my daddy smiling,
See daddy she's with Joe,
And they're heroes.
Yes, baby and your the best mommie
Daddy I'm gonna be a G.I. Barbie too,
When I grow up , and I was.
I made love - felt like I hadn't shaved for 24 hours,
went outside, wet, got caught in some snow showers,
white specks on a black man, an albino down the road,
when I returned, my partner was reading 'The Da Vinci Code.'
Someone said that those guys had a poncey beard,
The Illuminati gathering just like Robert Langdon feared,
I wonder if anyone else had drawn a perfect circle,
yes, my barber design with the fade haircut magical.
Not forgetting my tattoos, logos on my designer shoes,
the winner takes it all, what is there left to lose;
I was accused of looking just like D'artagnan,
they can say what they like, I'm my greatest fan.
See the muscles chaps, never mind 'Angels and Demons,'
my ears are listening, glistening, filled with diamonds.