Shaven Poems | Examples

I AM GREEN

    I love the colour of my skin,
    Au naturel suave evergreen.
    From head to toe, and deep within,
    Each part of me, feels so serene.
    Even the bristles, on my chin,
    Tonsured daily, smooth shaven clean.
    The only difference, with my twin,
    While I am green, he's tangerine.
    Hereditary, our kith and kin,
    Diverse within the human gene.

    8 / 13 / 2025.

Buzz Cut

Sirius is approaching the gate
dragging the hot and humid like bait.
	Scorching dog days are back.
	A violent attack!
I fear I will burn my shaven pate!

guilty by tattoo

Though opposed by federal court
Trump’s sport-like media report
Features flights at night
With head-shaven blight
And the hog-walked men we deport

What slave asks for anything more
Than a rave in El Salvador?
With expenses paid 
In dirt they’ll get laid
While six million bucks pays our whore

It Wasn't A Wonderful Life

Some people were upset and they said it was unfair.
George Bailey killed old man Potter and he went to the electric chair.
George discovered that the eight thousand was stolen by Potter.
George became enraged and he was angry enough to slaughter.
George went to Potter's house with his gun and he shot him through the heart.
As they strapped George to the electric chair, he knew his decision wasn't smart.
George refused to have his head shaven and his hair burst into flames.
Poor George truly became a hot head and he only had himself to blame.
George became a psychopath even though he used to be nice.
He decided it was best to kill Potter and sadly, he paid the price.

Mirror Doesn't Lie

MINDSET: Clean shaven with a conscience that sleeps well through the night, 
one needs not worry about guilt or other destroying emotions that bind.

Honest 
as mirrors
who don't lie to us 
Truthful as the morning sun 
We meet our conscience face to face every day 
Engaging with heart and soul we are often tested  
and if we lie, a great feeling of unrest settles deep within us  
Honesty is a moral voice that speaks to our inner compass, please take heed!

Come November

A wind, sharp and cold
Leaves the trees shaven,
Of such colors bold
Yet, in my mind are graven

Come November days
Less sunlight remains, 
Where it stayed and plays
Filtering, as it drains

Through amber waves
Leaving my heart warm,
In my memory saves
Before the first snowstorm 

Be it white by morning 
No more gold and red,
Be it winter's warning 
That autumn is almost dead

Come November nights 
Stiffened by the chill,
The dappled sunlights 
Cling to my soul still.

Worldly Man of God

A huge room not denied luxury,
The rejected in it: Misery
Of fine glass up to the bookshelf:
If one was close to it saw oneself:
The weight of a thousand Christian Books
And at what the smart owner looks;
Glasses for whisky but no whisky:
To have whisky displayed risky:
"One can't defend in a voice husky
What surely makes the keeper frisky".
His callers would sit in a cushion
Owner of the room lives for true fashion:
Man can serve Lord God and some passions
And this not prompt long quizzing sessions...

The clean-shaven in a clean cassock
He had vowed he would never forsake.

The Newest Widow

Keeps trying to pull herself together:
Objects scatters and tries to them gather;
Hard to swallow his withdrawal from her world.
Clean-shaven head she’d cajoled for being bald

She should never forget the month of May,
When God in her life allowed Death a say.
Julius had promised her everything:
“All my envious feuding brothers Nothing”
Their world and lot shall, again, turn golden,
Although, all his companies are folding…

Alas! She, Stella, had got it all wrong,
Her enemies to break into a song.
She’ll have to hold on to memories:
In her mind a neatly filed series…



She knows they’ve coming for her long hair,
The scissors that shall attack it won’t care.
What they can’t take from her his mansion,
They had better not the topic mention.
She’s ready to make phone calls for a Jeep;
A full army that makes giants weeps!

Are You a Sheep Or a Lion

Living life in their lane, lunge-ful lions do not apologize.
Enthusiastic echo roars resound as shy shaven sheep rise.
Gnashing their torn-up teeth, gnawing on marvelously manly meats, 
Lions tear their tasty treats up as horrified sheep tweet out their tweets.

Tigers strive to become kings themselves, taking on lions sometimes.
Apologetic, socialized sheep pretend they are voiceless mimes.
Lordly lions like luxury, loving life in their own way.
So are you a socialized sheep or lordly lion today?

Moon Knight

Superhero, Marc Spector, known as the Moon Knight,
Plays lead role in the Marvel Comics bright and tight; 
Having, like Greek gods, gift of immortality,
Reveals his powers, with lightning vitality...! 

Egos of Moon Knight, Steven Grant and Jake Lockley,
Lived and acted, sometimes godly, often oddly;  
One handling the trauma tantrums, like a doctor, 
Another assists him as though a concoctor...!

With weight-lifting-champion-like physical strength,
Moon Knight comes out glorious, going any length; 
When, Khonshu, falcon god of vengeance, de-powers,
Like Samson after hair-shaven, Moon Knight cowers...!


30 September 2022
Moon Knight Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori

Shooting Others Trouble

The best intention is still rude,
If into others’ affairs intrude:
As two hit each other over food
And you don’t over restraint brood
Nor from the drama keep away:
A begging role of a stowaway …
 
For this resent I John Jude
Whom I address as The Rude
And would maliciously exclude
From honors I should him include.

The intruder shooting others’ trouble
Could his house end in rubble,
For its rebuilding spend double,
The clean-shaven keeping a stubble.

Wilt

soda stream pops
gargles are gurgled
mischievous meanders over moss
jutting chins of fresh shaven
intrusive rocks
sunlit tendrils stroking at the seams

All and Above

Finely broken glass
filters through 
my picture heart
from where puzzles start
inside tainted walls 
or none at all
shaven and prickly too
In between
on random moons you glowed
melancholy from all and Above
spinning
spinning
spinning !!

Love Boats

Despite the crisp chill
She wandered to the pebbled shore.
Cold water washed her tender feet.

At last, she sat beneath a pine tree
on a shaven log, shaped like a bench
A train of thoughts passed through her muddled mind.
She wondered if life was passing her by.
She shrugged.  There was nothing she could do.

A grey gull screeched overhead.  She laughed.
Ships, small or large, would go on their way,
Especially love boats on their route to exotic shores,
but she had to stay put,
Until he came back to her again.

Then she would be euphorically happy once more.
Thus she dreamed and fantasized,
moulding her life according to her standards.

But love cannot be forced
nor found on love boats.
They are created deep in the heart
or as was her case, lost at sea
in a terrible turbulent storm.

Dreaming

Dreaming

“Dreamlike”, I slipped deeper into an “imaginary” place -
A strange, silent, brooding, “surreal” castle,
Built into the side of a mountain in a land of perpetual snows,
And lighted only by “hazy”, flickering torches.

Deep into the “shadowy”, towering nimbus of
Doubt, depression, despair,
That dogged my every step.

Floating in “unreal” picture frames,
I travelled “trancelike” in search of Taktsang,
And the Tiger’s Nest,
Where I was told serenity and happiness abide. 

Later, awakening to the sound of prayer wheels,
The sun had crested.
A shaven, monk in a saffron, “ethereal” robe,
Who has nothing, but has no need of anything,
Presented me with a chalice of fragrant tea
Infused with peace, that transfigured my soul.  

May 28, 2021

Contest:  Writing Prompt – Dreamlike – Poetry Contest
Sponsor:  Constance La France

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