Long Head of hair Poems
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I live amazed in an amphitheatre,
A huge red and white domed tent.
Working with actors and jesters,
Enduring a perpetual torment.
The crazies I know are the clowns,
Red nose and a big head of hair.
And the gym junkies, they’re the strongmen,
Wrestling each day with a junked up brown bear.
And the farmers are the animal acts,
Talking with elephants, lions and a monkey.
While the women down town, they’re the hula hoop spinners,
Forever looking so spunky.
Then there’s the boss in charge, she runs the sideshow,
With magic acts, rubber man and the pony.
She makes up the rules as she goes every day,
Turning up as the bearded lady.
My life is in the flying fruit fly circus,
Others, are they oblivious to sights I view.
Every day brings a new surprise, I see it, I wonder,
I’m curious, do you see it too?
Long live James Tate. :)
Miss Vivian, my heart is full
to stay with you a while,
to see your precious cherub face,
your impish little smile.
You have your father’s countenance,
your mom’s full head of hair -
Indeed, both fearful, wondrous made,
exquisitely, with care.
Our times with you are far too short,
the separation, mean,
for though my heart is bound to yours,
too many miles between.
But I find solace in this truth:
He’s never far from you.
your every moment’s known to Him,
and that will see me through.
----------
on seeing my granddaughter
for the first time last year;
going out to see here again soon!
I'm off to Horton's!
Where's my coat?
Where's my gloves
and hat I tote?
Head to wind
I walk the path
with all my strength
within God's wrath.
Losing time
I start to wander.
'Behold' the stars;
their size I ponder.
Getting close
my feet relax.
I gaze ahead.
The wind it slacks.
I reach the door
and pull the handle.
Air rushes out
warm as a candle.
The lights a-glare.
There's several tables.
I place my order
and spread my fables.
I take my seat
and rest my coffee
then raise it up.
My arms like toffee.
The sip is bitter
but starts to quench.
I swallow gently.
My throat a-drench.
I sit and rest.
Half hour aside.
Get up to leave.
My hunger subside.
I exit quick
fresh with air.
Head held high
and head of hair.
I'm headed home
without goodbye's
and at my back
the other's eyes.
I look ahead
toward my home
and move my feet
and start to roam.
I will come back
and won't forget:
I love Tim Horton's
without regret.
Age is just a number
It's not a true sign
that one who is a senior
is not in their right mind
Age is just a number
it does not matter all that much
as long as you're a child of God
you will feel His merciful touch
I've always believed that the older one gets
the more one is filled with God's Holy Spirit
And I've always believed that like a fine expensive wine
as one gets older, you only get better with time
Age is just a number
getting old shouldn't make you feel sad
as far as I'm concerned
getting old ain't so bad
You might now need a walker or a cane
As arthritis and bursitis are your new middle name
You now have a fabulous head of hair that's silver or gray
But that's just maturity and wisdom on full display
People might start calling you "Pops" or "Ma'am"
or referring to you as an "Old Vet"
but just because there's snow on the rooftop
does not mean the fire in the furnace is out yet
So bask in the wisdom that comes with age
and savor the prime of your life
as age is only a number
it does not matter in your walk with Christ
Just simply enjoy the respect and honor
of attaining a ripe old age
as the "Baby Boomers" are becoming seniors
getting old is now all the rage
Daddy pulls out my straight teeth
Keeps them in a jar for me
Knocks it over when I'm bad
He tells me that I "must be mad"'
I pick them up off of the floor
Cracked in half and looking sore
It must be a pathetic sight
He looks at me and his face goes white
Shards of glass buried in my knees
And a head of hair ridden with fleas
He locks me in this vapid room
Says I fill him with "such gloom"
Cardboard windows and socked feet
My ears tune-in to a ringing beat
I cannot even see my hands
This gloom-filled room I cannot stand
I get now, why I’m bound to this
What about me would anyone miss?
Sing praises to the toothless grin
of the plastic, pocket comb;
who through many heads
of boys and men
its plastic tines have flown.
Working magic in the masculine hands,
putting astray stains of hair in place,
as the holder stares into a mirror,
admiring their own face.
Carried in back pockets of
jeans, khakis and shorts;
sat upon on hard surfaces -
some tines start to abort.
Thin tines on one end
for the finest head of hair;
thicker teeth on the other
with large gaps of spaces there.
Left behind on counters,
in kitchen drawers and in bathrooms;
discarded due to some missing teeth,
but for others still worth a groom.
Looking for that perfect look
are many men and boys;
hopeful that this plastic tool
leads to future romantic joys.
He walks proud
Like a man
Who has much bigger balls
Dangeling there
In his underwear
He has attitude to spare
Even with
A partial head of hair
People look his way
They can't help but stare
Perhaps it's the fact
He doesn't care
He absorbs
The atmosphere
From each and every room
His mighty voice
In the air does loom
Like the after shock
Of a sonic boom
Short in stature
Yet it doesn't matter
Twin to Arnold
Just a bit fatter
One of my favorites
A consummate actor
Whether being a tin man
Or throwning mama from a train
I like watching him
Over and over again
He's got skills
He invades my brain
Loved him in Taxi
The beginning of his fame
He made insanity sane
He's been a Ruthless person
Causing other people pain
A slow driver
Occupying the fast lane
A comedic king
Long may he reign
Form:
As a kid my hair was a very easy fix,
just pull it back with a rubber band into a ponytail.
As a teen a ponytail was not going to work,
off to the hair shop with picture in hand.
I sat in the chair and said,
I want to look like this picture.
I sat dreaming about my great new hair style,
as I looked in their mirror I was horrified.
I did not look like the picture I showed them,
what had happened to my head of hair.
I will fix the professionals,
next hair cut was on me.
That is when I started to cut my hair,
I still laugh when I get asked -
can they have my hairdresser's information.
I have found some great new friends,
hats in all sizes - styles and colors.
Something New
Have you longed for something new
like ketchup on your crackers
To hang out till the break of dawn
with multiple kick backers
A peanut for a new best friend
unless you are allergic
A submarine in your back yard
so easy to submerge it
A watermelon kitchen sink
with seeds to help the drainage
A brand new wash cloth made of fur
to softly clean the stainage
A pickup truck with tap shoe wheels
so down the road you’re clicking
A new comb for your head of hair
with grease for easy slicking
To stick your neck out really far
like you have been giraffe-ing
Have you longed for something new
like this that leaves you laughing
10/15/18
Written for: The Trying Something New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
This was a tough one and definitely something new for me. : )
I wake up with the morning light,
Something doesn't feel quite right,
I wipe my eyes and scratch my head,
Oh no there's someone in my bed,
I gently pull the blanket back,
Hoping that they won't attack,
I see a lovely face and full head of hair,
How the hell did she get there,
Now my head starts to hurt,
What does she have on but my shirt,
Soft steps I now take,
Coffee I really need to make,
With a cup in hand,
On the porch I now stand,
At an empty drive way I now stare,
My car just isn't there,
The questions will have to keep,
The answers are on my bed asleep,
I don't want her awake,
Can't remember her name for heaven sake,
Not liking how the day has begun,
But last night must have been fun,
Now there are foot steps in the hall,
Guess she's not asleep at all,
She buries her head in my shoulder,
Then my kids she's not much older,
Then she says don't you fret,
My name is Evette,
I know I am not the one,
But last night was really fun,
Adding that she had met me at the bar,
Then took my keys so I wouldn't drive the car,
She didn't want to be alone,
She called a cab and took me home,
Then asked if she could stay,
Til a little later in the day,
Then asked don't you remember this,
And gave me a big hug and kiss,
Not sure what it all should mean,
But this is every old mans dream!
An Uncle Charlie Original
© 2008 unclecharlie