Cutting edge
Like a sharp knife
cutting through a bitter lemon
into red lips dripping
the hairdresser takes my pleasantries,
chops them with a cruel hand,
throws them back in pieces in my face
snip snip into blond hair, brown hair, black, grey, white,
what heroic restraint, condemned
to a lifetime’s cutting, and not
to plunge the scissors into a spinal cord…
this little girl who cut her finger with
her mother’s scissors perhaps
to try to explain how they cut her heart
her love that would grow like hair
how can I know the heart
of this woman who cuts my hair
so expertly.. snip, snip..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Haircut
I have wooly, wavy, woozy silvery hair
Cut just 20% you earn your fare
In bad trim down
Make sure I won't look like a clown.
With white cover she cuts away,
Her scissors, snip, snip night and day.
In mirror see my hair disappear
Trimmed nicely above each ear.
Finally touched my hair—few curls,
The more she accommodates I would adore.
Finish look seems more like 30% gone,
Hair wetted, scalped, I mirror no fun.
Next time another barber or good cutter
Better not scalp me" I sadly angry mutter
For well-kept hair on head?
I'd rather make more love in bed.
poem by Arthur Weil
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My haircut
My haircut,
It was a misserable time,
To watch my hair go,
Snip, snip, snip,
It drifts away in a silence unknown,
To all who have known,
The misserable haircut,
I love my hair,
But it had to go,
like seeing something die,
But i could never really weep,
It is sad to say goodbye,
My hair will grow back,
But only to see it go again.
poem by Trenton watson
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The Barber
I'd like to be a barber, and learn to shave and clip,
Calling out, 'Next please! and pocketing my tip.'
All day I'd hear my scissors going, 'Snip, Snip, Snip;'
I'd lather people's faces, and their noses I would grip
While I shaved most carefully along the upper lip.
But I wouldn't be a barber if ...
The razor was to slip.
Would you?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Spell
A low monotone ‘snip snip snip'
Drooping heads as in slumber deep
The mirrors reflect telling it all
The shed strands quietly fall.
Goes on the buzz ‘snip snip snip'
Are they awake or in deep sleep?
Getting off-loaded here's no hike
Lines of souls sit vampire-like.
No one speaks it's nobody's call
Heads mildly roll, tissues fall
Shrouded white from world disguised
The snipper's spells have them hypnotized.
The stupor breaks once ends the ride
A cruel world is waiting outside
The spell was so short, it's a pity
Time again for back to reality!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Get Your Hair Cut!
The perfect haircut suits you best,
Short back and sides, my lad!
So take your cash and go invest
In what makes most folks glad.
It's up to you to make the choice,
I gave you good advice...
So why look like the other boys,
When you could look quite nice?
I've seen you in the smartest suit
Let down by scruffy hair...
That's hardly what I'd call astute,
So almost debonair...
You used to be the one to watch,
The guy who had it all...
So why not take it up a notch?
Good-looking, standing tall.
Please get your hair cut soon as poss!
Don't dilly-dally, friend!
My word, it would impress the boss,
On that you can depend!
Keep up the good work that you do,
Eyes twinkling day by day!
Sit down, relax, snip-snip, you're through...
Thank God for that! Oi, vey!
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Singapore Border Blues
I came by bus in a swirl of dust in the summer of seventy two.
I was young, I was poor, I hoped to score but I really hadn't a clue.
The seats were hard; I was on my guard when we bolted from the bus.
The border was there, but I had long hair so they readied to hassle us.
They were men in blue, a few women too, taking our arrival card.
They saw my face, they knew their place, they were going to make it hard.
"You have an air; you have long hair so you must observe our laws"
So Kate my friend did a bend and pulled out her best scissors.
She got to work, without a jerk and as quick as a Christmas sale,
She snip here, she snip there until my scalp was bare and pale.
His face turned sour, this was not my hour and he gave me back my case,
"You littered the floor, there's the door, you're not welcomed at this place."
So I left my hair and without much care, I turned and went on with our trip.
My head was bald but I wasn't cold and we eventually caught a ship.
It's been many a year, and Kate's gone from here since that incident.
I have a wife, I have a life and I have been quite content.
I travelled wide, gone with the tide and corners of the world I saw.
I made it a rule, it was even cool, to make sure to avoid Singapore.
Until one day, it would be fair to say, that the city needed my skills,
Return this way, there's plenty of pay, enough to cover my bills.
The flight was easy, I was never queasy, so I walked into the arrival hall:
Airport was clean, like a big machine, but the impression: good overall.
The men were in blue, a woman there too, who took the pass from my hand,
She gave a smile to greet, offered a sweet and welcomed me to this land.
For a small fee, I took the M.R.T., and the ad. there made me stare
Phone Beijing 101*, to have this done: Singapore will re-grow my hair.
In memory of
Kate Langley
1953 - 2006
*Beijing 101 have hair restoration clinics in Singapore
This Morning At The Barbershop
This morning at the barbershop,
a barber is busy with the hair
of a much older grey haired man
that he is trimming neatly
and a young man
sits in one of the barber’s chairs.
When I sit down to wait
the young man rises
turning to me
and asks if he can cut my hair.
I was happy to get attention immediately
while the other barber was finishing
with the older man,
as he looks to finely tuned to me.
My hair was smartly cut
with a pair of scissors
and the young barber
held his fingers
to determine the length
and I wanted it shorter
than just cutting off the ends
while the other barber
first took a hair blower
from a drawer,
sprayed something over his own hair
before he started to blow it in the mirror
and he then said
that he cannot go
to the bank to wait in line
with a head looking like Tut’s ass
and I saw my locks
falling dark brown
with dots of grey around me
and saw the other barber
combing his long hair
and smiled at myself
about the vanity of humanity
while I looked at myself
and were starting to look much better.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Bathroom Barber
I'm not a bathroom barber I've learned
gave myself a hair cut with my own two hands.
When all of a sudden I heard a loud noise
which took my mind off what hair to cut I had.
Then SNIP, it went off my head!
a large patch bald of hair is missing.
The dog looked at me puzzled and barked
and the cat raised her back and was hissing!
I must admit I looked a fright
with that large patch of missing hair.
When I got up nerve to look in the mirror
I even gave myself a scare!
I was only trying to save a buck
and give myself what looked to be so easy.
But with this patch of hair now missing
my head feels a bit more breezy.
I guess I'll have to spend the money
go to someone, where to them it isn't harder.
And never again will I pretend, to be a Bathroom Barber!
poem by Linda Winchell
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Hair Cut
I sit in the chair
awaiting my fate
the lady comes forth
those scissors I hate
she chops off my hair
my curtain for hiding
should I end this now?
this i am deciding
it's too late to change
my shoulders are bare
but as I sit there
I think I believe
that I love my hair
poem by Liberty Olivas
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The Haircut
They sat me down upon their chair
Anxiously and impatiently I sat there
Nervous was I, so I whimpered out a sigh
But I was ready for them to cut my hair.
The hairdresser she talked to me for a bit
I felt happy and handsome I must truly admit
She felt my hair, as the patrons did stare
As upon that swivel chair I did sit.
I was then taken to the Shampooers sink
The Hairdresser shampooed my hair as I did think
I spoke, but I stalled, happy I am that I am not bald
So instead I gave my hairdresser a happy wink.
I was then led back unto my chair
I smelled the scent of her perfume in the air
I was then afraid, as I saw the tools of her trade
But she promised me all of her loving care.
Clip, clip, clip the scissors I then did hear
So close was that sound was to my ear
My hair it fell, from my head it was expelled
As I watched her craftsmanship from her mirror.
Then not long later she finished her job
I looked at my hair and I gave her an appreciative nod
She then finished the clip, I gave her a tip
At her work and gentleness I was both pleased and awed.
RANDY L. McCLAVE
poem by Randy McClave
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My Death Wish
Carve me like a pumpkin
With a cap upon my head
Scoop out my brains to mix with yeast
And knead them into bread
Cut out my eyes so I can’t see
The evil everywhere
And use them to play pool with
Doesn't matter
I don’t care
Snip off my hair to knot and braid
A rope that I can use
To tie around my woeful neck
And end it none to soon
And with what’s left
Chop, blend and mix
A tonic that will grow
A crop of red tomatoes in
The Summer you might sow
Written by Sara Fielder © 2012
poem by Sara Fielder
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Locks Cut 1359
A snip first here then there, O what distress!
New shorn, life's locks no longer mask years' grey,
Now evident it seems that she must pay
In white Time's ransom where once shone jet tress!
Each single hair is mourned, all can confess
Sharp pangs, where one stray fingers used to play
Little remains. "'Twill grow again! " she'll say -
O ever on must one mistrust missed tress!
Cascading braids that garland fair mistress
Kindle lustful longings night and day.
Sweet locks cropped, lopped, lip-service lead astray
Creates a void avoidable, few bless.
Uncut is Cupid's knot, bow arrrow shorn,
Time flees, betrayal mortal men must mourn.
(27 July 1992)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Best Way to Comb the Blonde Hair
Years is the worst unforgivable hairstylist
He cuts my hair short;
shorter than our short story..
He cuts my hair off;
off the last relationship..
Now it's 4 sharp in the afternoon,
i, wooden, seize the comb, wooden.
Mirror does not tell lies
age can only climb high.
the comb runs through my hair
my hair flows through somewhere
more strands of hair are gone..
more worries are born
I forget how I combed hair
back in those years..
A young blonde is coming..
and i gonna ask her this question.
poem by Garland Jodie Jeen
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The Givers
Snip it.
What complaint would you have,
IF you had a heart that gave?
Quit it?
You are just part of this experience,
Life!
It is not about you or your whims!
The givers receive no attention at all.
And there you are falling down with tantrums!
Going ignored are your calls.
Snip it quick.
Shut your lips.
No tree grows from a branch.
When a leaf is released from it,
It dies, to wither and rust from its visit.
Connected are we all to this,
Life!
All your needs could be met...
IF your greed did not set things,
Off balance.
With needs you only feed.
One day you will learn,
All your suffering has been well earned...
By you!
Feeling screwed by the things you do?
You wouldn't feel this way,
IF you lived each day to 'give'!
You look for ways to take, use and squander!
That's why you wonder and wander...
Seeking to reap from life what is good!
What have you done?
Are you looking for ways to give to anyone?
Or are you here just to take?
Well...
Take this!
Shut your lips,
And learn what it is to give!
And all that this life is,
Can be yours.
You will receive what is deserved.
The givers serve without a mumbling word!
And all that is heard from you...
Are offers to undo what is done.
Takers get back,
That which has been given...
And comes to them in abundance!
A rusting of a nothingness achieved.
Leaving them with the results,
Of their selfish and hoarded greed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Hair
The ritual evanesced when we observed it,
The ritual completed when our lice grew.
The head was full of lice, I hear them and saw each of them,
Restraining the children with feet, the arms also.
Inexorable lice swayed in the hair of our heads
Until the ritual was entire.
What is this ritual?
The ritual is of the dressing of hair,
Or the cutting of hair by the hairdresser.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Make Me Beautiful
Girl, I need my hair 'did'
I'll be over at 5
You are late
you kow I needed you
to put this Lace Front in
Did you bring glue and scissors
and Don't be messing up my hair
I spent alot of money
to make me Beautiful
Girl, I need my hair twisted
you know like Dreds
I need it done now,
how long do you think it will be
I don't have all day
and I'm hungry too
Girl,
let me go get some Chinese food
while you working on my hair.
Girl, I need you to come with me
to the hair store
How many wigs you gonna try on,
I want a long pony tail
down my back, with no curls
and I need some gel,
some hair pins too.
I put my perm in so hook me up
you hear!
Girl, its me, what you doing
I need to borrow a wig for tonight
I got a date and I 'need' to look good
I want my Do to look beautiful like
yours,
But Tonight,
Make Me Beautiful, like Beyonce
My nails, my nails
got to have them done too
let me see the colors
designs you have
I'm planning on looking good like her tonight
got me one of those push up bras
and that girdle that, make you 3 sizes smaller
I am going out tonight,
I'm gonna find me a man
and I just want you to,
Make Me Beautiful,
Girl, it's gonna be on! .
(Written By LadyAdrienne)
poem by Adrienne Clark Strachn
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Want More Hair?
I'd love
I think
more hair
more hair
like a big
old grizzly bear
more hair makes
you manly
more hair
makes you tough
more hair feels
like carpet
more hair keeps
you rough
more hair
for pretty ladies
to rub their faces on
more hair for
guys to jealous of
and more locks that can
be flung
I think more hair would be awesome
but I wouldn't wanna overdo it
because too much hair would make
me like a little furry blanket
and I couldn't cover both of us
just you and that ain't fair
more hair!
poem by John W. McEwers
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The Accentuated Curls
To twist around is a crime
It will distract the follicles
From being so sublime
The scissors dance around my curls
Waltzing through my particles
As barber John around me whirls
And sings- a jubilant, Italian song
And other barbers sign along
To juicy, creamy melodies,
While mirrors show my vanities
And carefree and distorted
The hair will be rewarded
With admiration from the rest
All people will boldly attest
That my hair is so wonderful,
That my hair is so beautiful,
That my hair has much grace
And it distracts from that hideous, grotesque face.
poem by Sasha Ioffine
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Cirque
Alone in a dark room
A figure sits
A woman
A girl
Bedraggled hair
White face
Red lips
Scarred
Arms crossed over her chest
X
Clasping each shoulder
Lightly
As though afraid to touch
One hand shakes
Quivers
All she can hear is
Razor blades over a violin
Screech
Her hair is wrinkled
Wet
Like her lips
Chapped and red
Glistening
She’s not in pain
She giggles
Insane
Looks up
Dark eyes
Circled in black
Sunken like pits
Hair, so pale,
It could be green
Dress of purple
Lilac
Fuchsia
Her arms unfold
Her smile widens
Into Glaswegian
She runs her tongue
Across her teeth
Like she’s hungry
“Smile, much? ”
She’ll giggle
As she unveils a knife
poem by Rebecca Kate Summers
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Rope hair woman
Rope hair woman
Where you’re off to tonight
Rope hair woman
You’re lookin’ out of sight
O rope hair woman
I love with all my might
Rope hair woman if you could if you can
Let me be your dread lock man.
Dread lock man
Can you understand
That a rope hair woman
Does all that she can
To move you to that sexual point
Better then your hand
O rope hair woman
Here is my plain
Rope hair woman I will give
Up my womanly man
O rope hair woman
The world can understand
That you want a dread lock man.
poem by David E. Patton
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