Short Hairs Poems
Short Hairs Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hairs by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hairs by length and keyword.
Went for a hair cut at the local barber
He must have misunderstood probably into the lager
Not just one hair
He cut EVERY hair
So I called him a bozo as I made my departure
Found my first grey pubic hair, got so excited
But others on the elevator were quite divided
One said that's life
Another gave this advice
Hair will still grow even when on autopilot
The head contains 80,000 to 120,000 hairs
Daily we lose a whole big stack with no spares
So much for fashion
Hairs are rationed
Baldness is not the desired fashion statement upstairs
I once knew a lad, name of Fred
It seems that a cow licked his head
His back hairs went one way
While his front hairs did stay
Better than the other way ~ Fred!
To a hammer
everything
looks like a nail
To a writer
everything
looks like a tale
To a hunter
everything
looks like a kill
To a prophet
everything
— unto his will
(The New Room: September, 2024)
When those fickle little hairs
on the back of one's neck
rise up in pair's
And everything inside you begins to stir
Never forget what you have seen
And where you have been
Because moments like this
Are a reason to exist
High caliber verse
the cartridge hand loaded
A new target centered
all focus then squared
Its barrel’s been filled
with red molten fury
Whose trigger awaits
—a desperate will
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Scatter it,now the hairs.
Let us call ourselves with eyes.
And from your magic of beauty,
Let us make ourselves crazy.
How heart do not want them now
When he wants us so much.
Scatter it,now the hairs.
Let us call ourselves with eyes.
Form:
Those pink grey nights
Where grumbling echoes
of distant cars
parade with sounds of drunken
brawls
Staring at bristled
arm hairs
as ice castles form upon their tips
Night shivers through me
and each step
the next ice mask
forms
beyond the skin
that begs its touch
Listen to poem:
I stand lined up in the sights
between black lines,
going from left to right
going up and down,
lines drawn as crossroads,
at the intersection point
between chance and choice
sighted and aligned
in the cross hairs,
targeted by
the sniper
with squinted eyes
called
'Fate'
Good to listen to others:
let’s face it, they want
to be heard—why they speak--
even if we have all the answers
imagined
since questions and answers
are more numerous than
the hairs on our heads combined
lessened by the reason for time
our ignorance to not hear
and only be heard….
The Good Book states that Jesus knows the number of hairs on your head,
And I assume He also knows the color be it blonde, purple or red.
I would also presume that His calculations are somewhat lessened over all,
Considering those members of His flock who are as bald as a bowling ball!
(Matthew 10:30 & Luke 12:7)
Orchid buds are soaked in the stream alongside the hill,
Mud-free, among green pines the sandy path lies still,
In the nightfall drizzling cuckoo calls sound chill.
Who dare say that an old man can’t rejuvenate?
The river past the temple turns west in the ultimate,
Don’t sigh over the grey hairs and become a degenerate.
(tran.)
Me in love with my cluster of hairs
since I was running in my teens :
Curly, deep black, thick bushy,
also lengthy reaching my waist,
drawing attraction and admiration.
Felt proud paying reverence to hair.
On ageing owing to hair loss,
bound to cut till neck in steps.
Even in old age, fluffy woolly natural style
provides grace and elegance on my face.
In God's word we are told
From the prophets of old
That even the hairs
On our head are numbered
What an awesome being
That would care enough
To know when I grow old
As the hairs begins to fall
Keep tract of the fact
That even the hairs
Of my head are numbered
That means for you
Yours are numbered too
(I can't even keep count of the ones falling out.)(Idea from the "Bible" Matthew
10:30.) Maybe free verse tell me if I am wrong.
Splitting Hairs
David J Walker
If you only knew
How often
I do just that
Splitting hairs to enter
Another dimension
Leaving me both here
And there, driving the streets
Of abstract convention
Where traffic lights are blue
And the tomorrows are
No longer new and are known
For abstruse pretention
Everyone seems to know my name
When they think they see me in
This other form
And then I’m gone again
In the split of a thoughts
Distension
Splitting Hairs
David J Walker
If you only knew
How often
I do just that
Splitting hairs to enter
Another dimension
Leaving me both here
And there, driving the streets
Of abstract convention
Where traffic lights are blue
And the tomorrows are
No longer new and are known
For abstruse pretention
Everyone seems to know my name
When they think they see me in
This other form
And then I’m gone again
In the split of a thoughts
Distension