No Whiskers Please
I'd rather have a clean-shaven face
than one with a scruffy beard
to graze across my sensitive skin
and feel like I've been seared.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Cleanest Man....
he is clean
he prides about the beard
that he has
just shaven
he is clean
there is no hair left on his head
no hair between his thighs
and legs
he is clean
his chest is bare now
his heart slowly
beating
he is clean as he
is empty
like a room without
furniture and
drapes
he is clean and without
sin
he who has not done
anything
and can do not wrong again...
he is clean now
for he is dead....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will The Real David Harris Please Stand Up
Will the real David Harris please stand up?
I say that not in vain,
but because I am not, sure which face I wear.
I could be the man with a full beard
and looks like D H Lawrence,
or maybe the man with a slight goatee
who looks as if he has escaped
from a chain gang somewhere,
I am not really sure.
I could be the man
with the moustache and chin beard
we have often seen on old paperback books,
or I could be the man
with the Clark Gable looks.
Then again I could be the man
who is clean-shaven with a playboy look
whom people call Walter.
Therefore when you meet me
who will be the real me?
4 March 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: The Soul Gets Impure Thus
Like how dust settles on a clean surface,
Like how the mirror loses silvering,
Like how hair grows on clean-shaven a face;
And impure gold is called gold-covering!
Like how the leaves fall on the swept foot-path,
Like how the paint with time becomes off hue;
Like how the skin gets dirty after bath;
Like how money corrupts the saintly few!
Like how fresh morning air gets polluted;
Like how the rain muddies the clear water;
Like how bad habits get strongly rooted;
With time, the mind that’s pure will soon falter.
For sinful thoughts invade the mind and soul,
And man forgets his God-given main role.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pool That Once Was Clean
it is the mirror
of your clean shaven face
the image of grace
and beauty
was once yours
until you put
the ripples on the clear pool
until you throw
the first stone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is no beard so well shaven but another barber will find something more to shave from it.
Love Profusion
There are too many questions
There is not one solution
There is no resurrection
There is so much confusion
And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love vibration
You make me feel
You make it shine
There are too many options
There is no consolation
I have lost my illusions
What I want is an explanation
And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love direction
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
There is no comprehension
There is real isolation
There is so much destruction
What I want is a celebration
And I know I can feel bad
When I get in a bad mood
And the world can look so sad
Only you make me feel good
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
(Spoken:)
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love intention
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
And I know I can feel bad
When I get in a bad mood
And the world can look so sad
Only you make me feel good
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roy C.
he was not coy he was open
and he knows how to use words to make you
feel at home with his own
angst,
his name was Roy from Subic Bay
and he knew how to play the flute like a member of the heaven's choir
he was sociable and mixes will all the sectors
of the people
he was clean and spoke well about the necessity of being clean
and shaven
we envied him and we wanted to be like him in all aspects
and these made us lonely all the while
as we lost contact of the uniqueness of ourselves
we were lost along the way and we stepped out from the enclosure.
we came to know later
that Roy was gone and could not be accounted for.
how was that? we still ask that question all over again.
now i am 50, clueless and
realistic.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In This Skin
They see me in a magazine
I'm the one they want to be
Still don't feel I'm good enough
Still don't feel I'm thin enough
I stand up and I'm pushed back down
And every opinion now
It makes me feel inhuman
Giving in and giving up
To be worthy
To feel beautiful in this skin
Be beautiful in this skin[love the skin I'm in]
Love me for me
Have confidence in this skin
Be confident in this skin[in the skin I'm in]
So tell me what is wrong with me
I'm the girl with everything
So why am I not strong enough
I want to be strong enough
To tell you how I really feel
I know my talent is real
So don't tell me, don't tell me
I have to be 102
I don't have nothing to prove
So don't tell me, don't tell me
Cause I am worthy...
To feel beautiful in this skin
Be beautiful in this skin[love the skin I'm in]
Love me for me
Have confidence in this skin
Be confident in this skin[in the skin I'm in]
Be real, be real
See the beauty inside this skin
I don't have to hide this skin[love the skin I'm in]
I feel, I feel
An awakening in this skin
Stop forsaking me in this skin
I am, I am,
[Beatiful in this skin
'beatiful' lies within
Beatiful in this skin
I am]
To be worthy
Be beautiful
Love me for me
'Cuz I am beautiful
To feel beautiful in this skin
Be beautiful in this skin[love the skin I'm in]
Love me for me
Have confidence in this skin
Be confident in this skin[in the skin I'm in]
Be real, be real
See the beautiful in this skin
'Cuz I don't want to have to hide it
I feel, I feel
I'm beautiful in this skin
Beautiful in this skin
I'm beautiful
And your beautiful
Beautiful in this skin
I'm beautiful
And you are beautiful
Beautiful in this skin
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To be sensitive
As sensitive, I am neither tolerant nor patient.
As sensitive, I am neither neutral nor indifferent.
As sensitive, I am either a rose or a cactus.
Whose fault is it that I am sensitive?
24.05.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jerry The Limerick
He has grown, in the clinic, a beard
but the stubbles are rough and much feared
by the soft, peachy skin
of both cheeks and her chin,
she considers his hairyness weird.
So she sharpened that Wilkinson blade
pulled the love of her life to the shade,
and proceeded to shave
from the face of this brave
man the hair, but she left him his beard.
He had grown, near each ear in just days
a small bushel of hair, like some gays,
and he blamed the selection
of the drugs for injection
it was Medicine's modern day ways.
After resting the night at his home
she had run out of white shaving foam,
which she meant to employ
to cut braids off this boy
but instead he had asked for a comb.
Well, I promised to keep up to date
all you poets about Jerry's fate.
If you saw his new looks
you would close your e-books
and this forum would start a debate.
I should also be honest and mention
that the nurse who kept Jerr' in detention,
put two rings in his nose
and a ruby-red rose
in his navel, with evil intention!
Do not shoot me, the messenger, please!
It is Jerry, who's also obese
as he stole all the pies
from the trays of the guys
who were bedridden due to bad knees.
All in all they were happy to see
that his kidneys again let him pee.
And they showed him the door
to the street level floor
thus at last our Jerry is free.
Discussions are well underway,
as sweet Alison showed some dismay.
Now the plan is to post
for the upcoming roast
on this forum his current portrait.
And as soon as the photo is taken
we shall tie up this silly old bacon
like a proper Martini
or Italian linguini
he'll be stirred with a vengeance, not shaken.
In the end he will be once again
just a poet who deserves a cool ten
and to some as a teacher
or a Scotch drinking creature
and a member of clean-shaven men.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Place Is Still The Same...
i do not know you that much
it is just your picture beside a clean shaven man
whose hands wrap your body as you smile
prudently, shy and composed perhaps
no longer ashamed to tell the world that
you have found the right one for you
i do not know you
i have seen you once in the market place
looking for an ethical
fabric of your next creation
i wonder why i followed you
you do not know me too
you have no inkling as to who i am
this is not a matter of love or compassion
it has something to do with a curiosity
whether you are happy or sad
whether you have written some poems for our existence
some words for our despair and perhaps some notes
for this anxiety
you will never know me for i am far from what you have heard
or seen
i live somewhere beyond the address of my words and creations
you shall never know that place
peculiar in its colors and scents
there is no texture that jibes with any of my moment
somehow, guts tell me that we are born with the same fate
or defects or limitations
that is why i followed you because i wonder how you manage
with that disability
you are in the arms of someone now
clean shaven, looking like an innocent dragonfly
stopping over a leafless twig
and soon, shall die without a trace of why.
my place will still be the same
a cave covered by a curtain of waterfalls
old vines, and dry interior where i never put off the fire.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Teardrops
Teardrops running down your face
Teardrops running down your face
Diamonds of water, and salt from your body
Coming down to meet my kisses
Teardrops running down your face
Teardrops running down your face
Staining your skin and my skin and beginning
The stories that you cant begin
The way I feel could be despised but its a vision that I prize
Teardrops teardrops
Im not trying to make you feel pain
Or joy to make the tears flow
But when they roll unashamed - they move me so
Teardrops running down you, face
Teardrops running down you, face
Let me, let me brush them with my fingers
Comfort you and say its alright
Its so strong this way I feel sometimes I want to beg or steal
Teardrops teardrops.
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Story
he likes to think that he is welcome here
that Someone placed him here as gentle
as those invisible hands of the caressing winds
so he stays
the people around him are filling his skin with rules
those that must not be done
so he is scared and
scarred
to keep the usefulness of sanity intact
he must pretend as that is the only way to survive
many have been hanged by reason of honesty
and those who lie have become living heroes
in his throne
he is king now
king of hypocrites
master of lies
and all the people who make the rules love him
inside he screams
tonight he goes for another kill
like a vampire
in the morning his mouth is clean
his face well shaven
the mirror mocks him all day
but who cares? he'd say
'i am your creation
and so i too have to create all of you
i am the monster that you love
and so here i am day by day eating each one of you'
glance at the world
it is happy because of you
morning angel
night's devil
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've met them down in the Cost and Accounting Department, clean-shaven and in white collars. They can't see a damn thing ridiculous about themselves... only about you.
quote by Jean Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clean
Eat clean,
Live clean,
Sleep clean,
dress clean,
Walk clean,
Learn clean,
Play clean,
Think clean,
dance clean,
Talk clean,
Sing clean,
work clean,
Because the world around you is watching what you do;
You are the only one on this earth,
So live and let us live too.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I began my search for the perfect skin care to fight the aging process, I noticed that my sensitive skin was reacting horribly to any product I used.
quote by Connie Sellecca
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Clean
Lets go back
Back to the beginning
Back t when the earth, the sun, the stars all aligned
'Cause perfect didn't feel so perfect
Trying to fit a square into a circle
Was no life
I defy
Let the rain fall down
And wake my dreams
Let it wash away
My sanity
'Cause I wanna feel the thunder
I wanna scream
Let the rain fall down
I'm coming clean, I'm coming clean
I'm sheeding
Sheeding evry color
Trying to find a pigment of truth
Beneth my skin
'Cause different
Doesn't feel so different
And going out is better
Than always staying in
Feel the wind
Let the rain fall down
And wake my dreams
Let it wash away
My sanity
'Cause I wanna feel the thunder
I wanna scream
Let the rain fall down
I'm coming clean, I'm coming clean
(let the rain fall)x3
I'm coming clean
Let the rain fall
Let the rain fall
I'm coming clean
Let the rain fall down
And wake my dreams
Let it wash away
My sanity
'Cause I wanna feel the thunder
I wanna scream
Let the rain fall down
I'm coming clean, I'm coming clean
Let's go back
Back to the beginning
song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Place
I’ve been searching a place,
The place for my face
Where it seeks solace…
I love the way,
You graze my face
With the stubble of your chin
On unshaven days...
The contours of my lips
Tracing your throat
Those steady warm breaths
Caressing my face…
Yet I keep going down
To seek another place
And find more respite
In your loving embrace
So while you lie down
I nest on your chest
Sucking in peace…
I take some rest
Yet the lover in me
Remains unsatiated…
So I go further down
On a voyage of discovery
To find the ideal place –
A place for my face.
Lo and Behold!
I find it at last…
No – it was not to be
Your chin, your throat,
Nor your chest…
Yet, I find a home
For my face…
A nice, new haven
Soft and mushy,
Warm and slushy…
Searching and seeking,
I quench my thirst
Sipping you gently,
I satiate myself
And lying down there,
With the feel of your skin,
The touch of your bristles,
The smell of your sweat…
I snuggle off to sleep,
Comforted and cosy
In your heavenly place…
Indeed – It is a lovable place
To be deemed fit as:
The Place for my Face.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Intensed Suspension
Sensitive...
And in you I am.
There to feel your glee,
And sorrow.
There to feel a smile maintained.
Although under the surface,
I know more is contained.
Sensitive...
Without a word spoken.
I come to you to give.
A presence you can depend on,
Knowing with a hug what it is...
To live life like this,
And what you need from me.
And what we agree we miss!
It is my sense to sense when your senses,
Have spent intensed suspension...
In sensitivity.
You like that I know that?
I know...
Me too!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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