Short Well Shaven Poems

shaven upstart girl
tongue moving around,quivers
lipping her essence...

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I was clean shaven when I
spotted a snail going by
I watched for a while
as he went half a mile
now my beard's reaching down to my thigh...

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Etched between two pines 
                             shaven mountain crest

Beneath benchmarker
                               lined  tombstones...

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

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shaven crest eagles flight captivating

banners strewn flags unfurled proudly



Tribute To Freedom

Also entry for 
Brian Strand's Motto -Monoku Form Contest...

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It love requires not colognes - nor perfumes,
It requires not make-up nor a shaven.
Luxuries nought - when hearts are light as plumes;
Most thrive most selflessly in love's haven....

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So for
My mother
Here’s another
If life’s a game
Then I’m not doing well
But clean shaven
Clean shirt
Clean and sober
You can’t tell

(Excerpt from the ebook 'Mother' available on Amazon.com soon)...

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salutations
Oh greetings from nature's door
the forlorn sun rises high from slumber
God's eyes seeing me He spies
creation bound shaven remade born again


7/1/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.  ©2019...

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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 !!...

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Girls and boys
pick up your toys
Your playground
has been shut.

There’s a man out there
with greasy hair
hellish hankering
in his gut.

That’s what we thought
till Joey’s father was caught.
He was clean shaven
with neat crew cut.

 
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
July 15, 2012...

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Firm, full olive breast a virgin, at twenty three?
Perfect as beauty yet, her true candy
Awaiteth just below...
Purity, smooth as dreams
She beckons..
Shaven, with traces love's,, cream....
Her lips, whom glisten; parting skies; tinted
Blonde tresses curls, tossed to the side such, her joy....

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the two day stubble 
helps her grasp 
my face in her hands 
and the obvious chaos
clean shaven, i’m smooth, 
hard to hold, 
providing misdirection,
and appear faster than I am
i’ve slipped away before
staring into my eyes, 
she sees my substance 
what i’m made of, the bones
how different my structure
from my words, my actions...

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& i see the clouds
smiling beside
my war-fed clan
they come, wearing
some new garments
behind the flood-gates
the forlorn gates
of old niger’s maidens
clean shaven
are the elders
now clean’d of
just yesterday’s beards
elderhood is gone!
siting on mat
aweful are their looks
they see nothing
of this new new moon
coming
to the homeland
oh, niger!...

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shaven mountain crest
                                               malta lava ashes cinders
                                                  erupt with vengeance
                                              foundation of strengthening
                                                refurbish dwelling fixture









Tribute To Hawaii...

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"Clean shaven memories remain
stuck in silence waiting to scream"

Voices sing out in adulation
inflections bending an ear
float me off   to be
lit eye interior arranged
to be blown away 
with heavenly wings

Candlelit flickers imagine 
soft breeze kisses  await
crisscrossed oceans and moonbeams 
aired along whispered dreams
folded up neatly
cascading my way...

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I'm waking up
I'm calling you
you're in the shower
what to do
you're nails are painted
hair is braided
legs are shaven
what to do
this picture tells a story
of a girl
in love with you
you're on the phone
with cam and amy
telling bout your
life's so crazy
making plans
to see a movie
life's so crazy
what to do
this picture tells a story
of a girl
in love with you...

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It was middle noon
on the deserted street.
Nobody will come out
to greet the sun.

You will lift the fallen leaves
to soften the blow,
corrupting the morality
crouching in the shadow.

A slumber was needed
to get the head shaven.
Touching the dust,
the heat, the winds.

Dig a sinking hole
deep in the heart.
It will suck all your tears
all your salt.


Satish Verma...

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I used to know a poet. His slovenly disheveled poems reminded me an alcohol-prone loser’s beard, but in person he happened to be a clean-shaven, well-tailored gentleman who hasn't had a drop since Bicentennial. And sometimes it's just the other way round: aristocratic rhymes on closer examination turn into dipsomaniacs.

poets and their poems
don't resemble each other -
poets die poems don't...

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trees lined up like an army
on the side of the hill,
looking beautiful and worn,
clean-shaven for Winter
and still in the cold —
under the moonlight
this is but a little hill
they take. my eyes
see this distant sight
nary a driver will see,
eyes on silent stare.
bare, leafless trees,
lined up so perfectly,
stiff their salute, finding
no footfall in the dark.

1/6/2021...

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The cornstalks vanished overnight
Shaven fields once flowing, green and gold
Now Dad’s evening whisker stubble 
Ghost limbs of the cornfield

Flocks of nomadic Ravens
Feast on the invisible
And scowl with those empty black eyes
Impervious to man’s judgment

And I think,

There is nothing as beautiful 
Than the first snow on a barren field
Shadows playing with the evening light
And dance among the vacant mounds...

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Not before I saw your eyes
Had I believed that such a fey
Would come to me and liquidize
My being with what they do ray
What your sight does to me
Is not something I can explain
For there's nowhere Id rather be
Other than where you do reign
If asked, I can promise heaven
For you to give me the chance
But really, a love clean-shaven
Is going to be the balance
You'll get for being considerate
Of letting me be your mate...

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All bareness forgiven
  the razors gone dry

The excuses all shaven
  no more asking why

A soul once abundant
  my face starts to fill

No sentence redundant
  no lines to go shrill

New destiny chosen
  man’s burden unsung

The look becomes learned
  masculinity sum

All chains have unshackled
  a face that goes deep

A beard now awakens
  —ancient voices that sleep

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2015)...

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I brew sunsets in teapots
I drink the dawn from a mug
and in my bicycle basket I have seduction in a jug
so now and then I take someone clean shaven home to my obliging bed
when I guess I should sit quietly pristine, 
with my legs crossed instead
but each day is so fragile
they black out every evening in the west
and all I got is these frail minutes
and I only want to live them, as if they were a fest.


© Gry W Christensen...

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Stretched before shaven imagining,
embedded in grey matter,
glistening sparkles simmer,
glint in muddy streams.

And dreams come on cascading,
traverse the emerald view,
patchwork of fields
stitched by olive brocade.

As far as the eye may garner,
landscapes forever spread,
distance spills incessant,
analytically dissociate.

Caged in a wide open space,
stand and stare and enfold,
loneliness rules the hour
for I and my captive self....

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Skin transformed to silver beneath the sweep of leaves, 
Peach and nitrate in the moon glow and the shaven silhouette; 
Filtered through the branches, latticed on her breast, 
Polychromatic prisms corralled in pin-prick beads of sweat. 

Summer heat and darkness enticed us ever closer, 
Bathed in pallid moonbeams and stardust memories; 
Laying down together, we as one upon the soil, 
And the heavens smiled upon us as we dreamed beneath the trees......

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