Long Shaves Poems
Long Shaves Poems. Below are the most popular long Shaves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shaves poems by poem length and keyword.
He primps that dome like it’s his crown,
A shiny orb, the talk of town.
Shaves that bowling ball twice a day,
No rogue hairs dare to stay.
Refined olive oil, scentless, slick—
His scalp’s own secret, glossy trick.
Then Axe spray rains, a scented storm,
Because the ladies find that charm.
Post-shower, towel wraps so neat,
Humidity’s spa for his heat.
Pores open wide, like welcome mats,
While he admires himself in flats.
Mirrors lurk in every nook,
Catching every shiny look.
Not married yet? “I’m picky,” he grins,
Waiting for love to roll right in.
On his dresser, a brush sits proud—
No bristles live, it’s just a shroud.
A hairbrush purely for show,
To tease the girls who don’t quite know.
No follicles, but full of flair,
Hair-care metaphors everywhere.
A follicle-free knight of sheen,
The baldest king you’ve ever seen.
He hones his purpose on a stone whet of spite,
Edge kissed to gleam in the dead of night.
Relentless is the echo tuned to hindsight.
Endless in the knowing his cause is right.
His grip is firm, his whetstone flat.
His purpose honed to revenge in tit-for-tat.
The axe grinder, can't ever get over that.
Old grudges are ground in, with spittle spat.
The sparks fly from grinding wheel.
Spun to remove the scars in steel.
Caught in armor on the leg and heel,
Of the foe that stood up from their kneel.
Sharper minds cut cleaner truer lines,
In wood chips, slivers, shaves and fines,
Cut deeper deeper in, to find the quick that binds,
The grinder to the hurt and pain he mines.
1. there's a time for bacon
and a time for eggs
I didn't know the Pope
shaves his legs
2. there's a time for hippies
and a time for cops
did you know Nazis
are eating our crops?
3. there's a time for day
and a time for night
eat a double bacon cheeseburger
dropped from a great height
4. there's a time for this
and a time for that
I didn't know surfing
would make me fat
5. there's a time for sickness
and a time for health
getting likes on Facebook
increases my wealth
6. there's a time for life
and a time for death
just so long as we
eliminate bad breath
7. there's a time for moon
and a time for sun
I drink Donald Duck orange juice
when the day is done
Old Expensive
The snow is falling, so, I button up my head,
above it, Someone’s sound – “above a street lamp”.
Music, leaks in, the lampshade sways,
hanging above a stained in bed;
Freddie gave it all for champagne.
Until, the thin applause fell flat!
Outside amongst the frozen sparrows,
and the cutting snowflakes, snowblades;
I see the monsters of winter, No!
I see the monster that is winter; coldly
emerging from its hollowness glade.
An old man in his expensive wilderness
rushes by, his white distorted knuckles
try to squeeze the breath, slowly from
his bitter dream of heavy coins and light notes.
While back at home! His wife shaves her skin,
to make him thin! She stands in a timeless mirror,
in a seamless hall, surrounded by a reflection of wealth!
This has now revealed itself as their poverty,
tangled in a bruise memory of blueing veins.
Comfortably! The monster sits; waiting in their counting house.
Nothing like me
Plan for tomorrow to be nothing like me;
I only wish I could be nothing like me.
You claim and I claim that you are nothing like me,
But the truth is, we are one when we live together with peace.
I looked into your soul and found my true self;
I want you! I need you! But now I need to be by myself.
I cannot believe how different we are,
When your feelings are so ignorant and our opinions are so far apart.
Razor blade shaves my face
And all you fail to do is look away.
You want to see me make a mistake,
But the only mistake I made was loving you today.
My poetry is the shadow which follows my voice;
I speak to express, but I write to let my feelings out.
The words that I say are all said without choice,
Because poetry is a necessity; every word required; my faith devout.
I know you will never be anything like me,
But that is ok, because I would never want you to be.
I look at you and know you are nothing like me,
So turn the other cheek and turn your back on me and leave.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Where are Your Rubies?
Win with your cherubim vodka, and defy all,
Seek the conversations within the smokes,
Predicate glossy lips for romance and ball,
Out with serviant regulation’s fix it jokes.
Coin the dignity and fight the right, nimbly,
Fret a glance to shelve matrix B as red,
Periscope expectation as denounced simply,
For infinite returns bevelling the written said.
Where the vehicle, what the production?
The lit removes its ignited mechanism,
To beam the joules within the friction,
Between shaves of mountainous schism.
Rhoda Monihan
...Those eyes once bright and deep blue
looking back at me dull faded grey.
I think to myself, I know you
as I stare at the image reflected in the mirror.
He is not the man I remember.
Beads of water coalesce on my skin and slowly roll down my chest.
I hear water running and look to my left,
seeing the spray against the curtain.
Oh, my shower I think and step into the tub.
The water is cold I turn the knob but it doesn't respond.
A sudden sense of deja-vu envelops me.
I finish my shower quickly and step out to shave.
Cold showers and shaves do not mix, this will hurt.
I look at my self in the mirror and touch my chin.
It is smooth.
Funny, I could have sworn I needed a shave.
I brush my teeth and glance up again.
My reflection gives me pause.
Those eyes once bright and deep blue
looking back at me dull faded grey.
As the water beads on my skin, I hear the distant sound of water running...
11/12/15
Double-dutch ropes slap the sidewalk -
snap - snap - snap -
braids whip air,
girls jump in, counting
uno, dos, three,
feet flick like drumsticks.
The ice cream truck jingles off-key,
icy lady shakes paper cups,
piragua man shaves ice into snow -
his knife scraping the block awake.
Pastelillos pop in hot oil -
spit, sizzle -
plastic cups clink with rum and cola,
congas crack, maracas shake salt in the air,
horns blare like chisme in heat.
Heels click-clack over concrete -
punctuating each spin,
each swirl of hips.
Whistles split the air -
one from the lifeguard at Jefferson,
two from the men on the corner,
three from abuela
when the coals are hot.
Somebody throws meat on the grill -
ssszzzz -
smoke climbs windows,
neighbors bring foil trays -
yellow rice, ribs, roasted corn -
each dish a downbeat.
Kids yell cannonball,
water smacks back,
lifeguard’s whistle cuts through splash.
Old heads tap dominoes on tabletops -
crack, slap, smack -
hands older than the stoops they sit on.
The block fills itself
the way music fills a drum -
the street hums under bare feet.
Tonight,
the moon will smell like charcoal
and sweet ice.
What would I give for a book and a nook
I'd forfeit some cash from my pocketbook
Surrender my coat to a hanging wall hook
Then give it a look , as long as it took
I'd roll back the stone, crawl into a cave
Find Ol' Tom Sawyer, take some close shaves
Look for Boy Wonder, help free some slaves
Hunt for lost gold, discover old graves
Go room to room, look high and low
Ride on a broom, escape through a hole
Go with the wind, fly over rainbows
Ride chariots of fire where ever they go
Search lost horizons with great expectations
Go hunting for bison in Indian Nations
Swim with Poseidon and gather crustaceans
The suspense would heighten my imagination
A book and a nook, a perfect day
Rain or shine, take me away
To read every line on every page
Spend all my time, that's what I'd pay
an original poem by Daniel Turner
But a brush and a touch, one parting more.
Delilah, Moon-girl, you stole my strong light.
I, your Sun-boy, am shorn having blackout,
but remember my close shaves, the honey
and dead days, my foes jaw-struck,
as the long-winded she-ass brays in my ear.
With influence silverish, drowning golden locks,
the egg-eating fish-god wins for a period
till dawn's yellow meets me at the next round.
I shake gold pillars in Dagon's stone temple
where uncut spectators are dying to taunt me
but what do I care for I know you await me,
At noon I burn for you,
at nightfall I sigh for you, O Delilah.