Short Head Of Hair Poems

he’d bought a skull rug for that spot
high on his head where hair was not

but …

it brought him rash and scalp decay -
one horrid nightmare’s “hell toupee”









Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, February 28, 2023...

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I jumped into a pit of fire
Only to find that my legs caught fire.

For sure, I thought it'd get my head
Where lay this hairy bed.

But wait, what's this?

At last, this head of hair
Went ablaze with such flair,
That I'll sing atop this chair!...

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What anguish masks her face
with cherry chapstick on her lips
and Medusa’s beautiful head of hair
there are signs of inner turmoil seen
in her deep blue eyes and her demeanor,
Or is this just an attempt to conceal her
quintessential adolescent awkwardness?



Contest: A Brian Strand #1172....

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Demons

Here, far away from East
Bowed down in comfort chair
Elbows anchored to the knees
Hands couching head and hair

There, far away from West,
Now in the clench of dark.
Heavy against horizon’s chest,
Mourning silhouettes, stark.

Lights extinguished by hate
Burning out one by one
Exhaustion smothering wait
Dreams will not see the sun...

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Each tread song woven together worn
A tapestry of soul
Physical
A top of their head of hair
Attach the street of soul
Each
A top of their head of hair
God knows each one numbered
Each strand
Physical
God knows each one numbered
How many we have
Thread stone woven together worn

1/8/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022...

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I put my shoes on back to front
to step into the past,
sent my watch by express mail
to make the time go fast.
Wrote 'atom' down as 'mtao'
just to generate unclear fusion,
told my friends I wasn't there
but an optical illusion.
Put my head on upside down
for a thicker head of hair and no beard,
when you can't think of topics for a piece of verse, then
what the hell- 
do weird....

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Dressed in a robe down to His feet
And a gold sash round His chest
His head and hair as white as snow
To me He is the best.

His eyes they shine like blazing fire
His feet like bronze aglowing
His voice just sounds like rushing waters
As if a storm was blowing.

His face shines like the morning sun
And He is the Living One
For He was dead but behold He is alive
For ever He lives on and on Amen....

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A poet may tear out his hair
  if he truly does care
to follow every rule
  they teach him in school

One foot too long, or one too short
  can his finest ideas abort
And woe be it if an accent or two
  fits not the traditional pattern
   
Let syllables be counted
  stanzas too
Lest be committed
  egregious boo-boos

So if a poet you know
  has a full head of hair
He's either a rebel who dared ~
  of of baldness he's scared...

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Ted once had a full head of hair
Now sadly his pate is quite bare
He wears a hair piece
In vibrant cerise
His toupee sure makes people stare!

Wife Betty lost her once trim waist
In corsets her waist is now placed
Much to her chagrin
She’s no longer thin
The aging process must be faced!

88558 checked with HMS

"Vanishing" old or new for a prize Poetry Contest

Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire

02/26/21...

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I'm not a fan of fanning weather
humid heat sweats my feet
I'm not a man that fans the sweater
frosty ice I shiver creak
the sun's too hot the snow's too cold
moaning like this I must be old
but I’m just young and miserable
a head of hair not going bald
a face you want to kiss and pull
or flat reject so I've been told
I only moan about the weather
never moan my life get better
I just can't wait for the sun to setter
who likes armpits forever wetter....

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