Unshaven Poems | Examples

Dust in the Breeze

There I leaned against the iron railings
of the high ridge overlooking the bustling port,
where a large ship hooted its loud warning,
It was waiting to depart to far-off lands.

My love was surely one of the passengers,
waiting to depart forever. A small breeze
blew around me but provided no solace.
She will be gone forever, my heart ached.

A hot tear fell along my unshaven face.
"Hi there," she exclaimed. I was excited.
She was there beside me. "I could not leave you."
"Crying?" “No,” I said.  “Just dust from the breeze.”

Earth

At night soil dreams in silent technicolour, peaceful and alone. 
It exhales gently without the trampling of mankind snapping 
roots; without the world above and its usual stampede. 
Branches notice it first, having time to stretch, 
to watch stars appear; time to open bark and bow wide, 
sprawling and luscious. Away from daily smokes and steams, 
the sky is a black mosaic of golden shards. 
Rivers lap, sigh upstream. Birds fly in a chorus, 
circling in trills below the moon’s pupil-white skin.
Fields are resting their patchwork bodies, the tissue of 
grass sewn from the earthly vapours of oak, birch, ash.
Nature’s legs grow stubbly at night, wild and unshaven.

In the morning a rabbit stands on its haunches, saluting the sun.

a geek's bonus

An unshaven programmer tech
Drooled java on a Starbucks deck
His net earnings grew
As fooled patrons threw
Dinero to pay for his check

Fake Gurus

YouTube has a plethora of spiritual videos
Pseudo gurus haven
Most of them are out to make a fast buck
Aided by grave faces unshaven

Let’s take the Tantra energy path for example 
With a view to energising chakras seven
Esoteric forced practices are proffered
These gurus promising to take us to heaven

Be wary folks and use no intermediary
For God dwells in the cave of each soul’s heart
If we be pure, childlike and gentle
Assuredly one day we will feel bliss ignition start

Kundalini, Chi or Holy Spirit as divine energy is called
It is not something external to our innate being
Path to ascent is simple but ego cravings complicate
Clear seeing simply requires with throb of love agreeing

The Lonely Road

An emptiness felt
Clothes tattered and torn
Toes peeking out of socks
Shoes without souls
Walking blind to others
Invisible to them all
Warm days I am blessed
Cold nights I fear death
Hopeless is reality
Kindness is not seen
They fear my dirt
An unshaven face
If only they could see
Without seeing me
born the same
Traveling different paths
One filled with gold
The other a dead road
Walking alone
Down this lonely road
I only ask for shelter
But drink numbs
My Soul
No longer I care
drunkenness
Eases my pain
For all you see
Is my weakness
For you are blind
From what I see
Look through my eyes
With wonder
Could you be me
For just one day

Like Angels Wings

Suddenly awake,

Snatched back,
From a space of wild dreams,
Open fields,
Open skies
A place he was free to run.

He reached out his arms,
And held the darkness,

The sound of drips
Turned into splash.

Water formed into Pools
Of sacred water at his feet,

He reached down,
and slowly washed his unshaven face
and bathed his blistered feet.

At peace now,
The darkness began to fade,

And with his arms outstretched like angels wings,
And his head lifted high;

He flew up into the moonlit clouds above,

At one now,

With the pure white light
Of a full summers
moon,

John Robert

Cuddles

Perhaps I was half asleep.
I always felt drowsy at night.
I sensed her warm body snuggling near me.
She put her head on my shoulders.
Her cuddles sent me to seventh heaven.
I only hoped she did not mind
The stubble on my unshaven face.
Still I was elated when as I felt
Her smooth downy face next to mine.
How fragrant was her exquisite hair,
I guessed it resembled a Soleil Neige,
An elegant and mesmerising perfume.
I took a deep breath, indulging 
In its fruity nectar…so I opened my eyes.
Only to see an empty bed and a lumpy pillow.

Ternopil Pond

Need to get back to my feet, find my way home
put down this heavy rifle, seek grace.. 
a familiar voice, a kind face, 
hope for forgiveness,
these hands and lives they've undone.

Home, your birth mother's own,  
where hearts unite and love ignites
among tall grass and damsel flies,
and panaramic hill just beyond.

Ternopil Pond fashioned by man's will
taken from marsh quicksand and Seret's flow
lies undefiled and still..
yet so many wounds to heal, 
along Far beach and Lover's Isle of gold.

Shoulders slumped against the stair.
Scratched and worn, leathery unshaven maw. 
Wisp of groan, in tired eye's misty glare, 
while boots fill along with torn glove..   
wanting only once more,
to be held in love.

Will loving eyes recognize the man she married..
and walk together again, that sandy beach? 
her slender fingers just out of reach.,
tho' soldiered voice of pride no longer carries. 

A wish remained, where no war dared go, 
where hearts unite and love ignites
among tall grass and damsel flies..
and panaramic hill just beyond.

Behind Broken Memories

I can’t do this today
Peering through dirty windows at citizens disappearing
Behind shells made of unconvincing paper
Masking unspoken fears, unshaven faces
Unrealized hope
As I sip on day old coffee 
Listening to church bells ring meaningless summons
And politicians competing to weave the biggest lies
As the forgotten ones stand in lines separated by social space
To acquire food with borrowed money on borrowed time
From vendors looted the night before
Under the glow of torched cars, flaming buildings, and burnt down lives that don’t matter
Streets filled with hate for brothers and sisters
Whose skin is darker, whiter, different
I can’t do this again
Sitting hour after hour
Watching, waiting
Alone
 
Behind broken memories
Wondering where you are
Everywhere I look
You are not there
I can’t do this
alone

Aloof

Aloof

Dressed in shoddy attire as I slow gait,
With unkempt hair and an unshaven face,
Are traits that express my depressed state.

Before my downfall, they did me berate;
And my self-confidence reduced to waste.
So now I dress shoddily and slow gait.

Since I don’t bathe, the odours permeate,
Warning others to hasten their escape,
Is a trait expressing my depressed state.

City dumpsters filled with waste serve my taste
Are on the streets where I beg for spare change,
Dressed in shoddy attire as I slow gait.

“Tragic,” they exclaim, “a living disgrace!”
I remain aloof since I quit the race
And don’t elaborate on my depressed state.

“I’m not lazy,” I explain, “I’m debased,”
And rebuff the world by accepting my fate.
Dressed in shoddy attire while I slow gait
Are traits that express my depressed state.

Amazing Grace

He grieved.
For his child.

Outside storms raged,
water levels rose.
That's where he died.
That's where the child died.

Drowned by the swirling waters
that carried his child away.
The child he loved so much.
Tears ran down his unshaven face,
As utter despair crushed his soul.
           His cherished babe had passed away.
Only pain remained ....
........and anger.
A fearsome anger erupted
into an obsession with death.
Thus he lost his faith in everything.

Yet out of habit he prayed.
Until one day he found
an abandoned child.
And once again, involuntarily
Tears ran down his unshaven face.
He nurtured her as if she were his own.
Days passed, then weeks,
And slowly love and faith returned.

Fresh Fruit

Blueberries
Your eyes glistening wide
Seeds of affection flourish inside

Clementines
Slices of smiles to share
Lively cheer, totable anywhere

Pineapple
Fashionable hair spikes
Rough, unshaven cheeks, my smooth face likes

Persimmons
Sweet, tender, fruit of gods
Your lips against mine, my heart applauds

3-3-2021
Images in Parallel Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May

Nature At Rest

The soil is dreaming in a silent technicolour, 
peaceful and alone. It exhales, gently without the tragic 
trampling of mankind snapping roots, without the world above

and its usual stampede. Gone. Branches noticed it
first - slowly having time to stretch, to watch clouds;
time to open their barks wide and bows sprawling and luscious, 

away from smokes and steams and smogs. The sky is blue, 
clear. Rivers are lapping, sighing. Birds fly in a chorus, circling 
in trills below the moon’s pupil-white skin - seen at night.

Fields are resting their patchwork bodies, their tissues of 
grass and pores sewn from the vapours of oak, birch and ash.
Nature’s legs are stubbly now, growing hair left wild and unshaven.

In the morning, rabbits stand tall on haunches saluting the sun.

Route 66ish No 15

Route 66ish No 15

While taking a walk in New Haven
This guy who was rough and unshaven
Ran nude through the park
For a bit of a lark
Then got pecked on the butt by a raven!!

Elevated Thoughts

The little imp bawled lustily
as it lay in its perambulator
there by the water fountain
in a secluded garden
right in the middle of a concrete jungle,
disturbing my elevated thoughts
that churned and churned inside my mind
on how to kill those pesky flies
that infested my rundown abode.
 
It was no use for me
to kick any brilliant idea around,
so long as that pesky brat
disturbed the silence all around.
Why even the doves stopped cooing
and other birds stopped chirping,
whilst most decided that 'twas best
to search for a quieter place.
 
So I walked up to his comely nurse
sitting contentedly on a bench
and scratching my unshaven face
I quite politely asked
why the little cherub cry so much!
 
She looked me up and down
and down and up, no doubt
disgusted by what she discerned.
"Maybe he's seeing a devil,"
she replied, cooing at the cherub
that made its bright new pram
quiver with yelping wails.
 
"Or maybe he's thirsty,"
scathingly I replied.
Cherub my foot, I thought.
And sighing I slowly repaired
back to my solitary bench
and thought and thought on
how I could kill those parasites
that bothered me as much
as that little cherub in the pram.

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