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Chicken Nov 6
He was stuck in his ways
Always judged himself
For his age
But she loved him, made him tea, and loaned him her hairdryer.
You don’t have to have certificates or any special titles in order to bring compassion and love to one another on the planet.

The guy in the story? He hasn’t got any hair left, but he appreciates the joke in the loan of the hairdryer as an act of love. An acceptance of who he is, hair or no hair, he is human just as she is.. and that is the common ground.

Hairdryers can heal :D
Chris Slade Nov 6
At this time of my life
I find myself wearing hats…
I’m not happy with my head you see,
In short, being able to see it
it just doesn’t thrill me.
Not through those depressing, disappearing strands.
So it’s that time - It’s hat time!

Hats are warm, comforting things;
take it off and, for a while at least,
it feels still there - a phantom hat.
Not quite as spooky or worrying
as a phantom arm or leg - after that
severed limb thing, but right there!
It really is that time - It’s hat time!

My Grandma Lamplough,
that’s on my mother’s side,
was an avid knitter of things to order,
She was even a freelancer for Jaeger…
matinée jackets, mittens, cardies, pullovers
But in later days mostly just tea cosies.
If there was no immediate customer in mind…
“Everybody needs a cosy and one size fits all”
she would say… and anyway,
commissions were rare for cosies back in the day

She’d wear it boldly herself
with handle and spout slots front & back, proud
She’d start the next one and announce
to every visitor right out loud…
”Hey…Do you want a cosy for your ***?
Mr Watling, the milkman, he had quite a lot!
But then he showed up every day!
A quart is it Mrs L?… and yes, I WILL have a cosy today!

Me? I’ve never fancied a toupee, wig
or go in for a Bobby Charlton tribute gig ….
I’ll be happy just to settle for a beret,
news boy or Fedora… to hide the offending pate
and avoid the comb over till a later date.
Meanwhile I’ll maybe settle for Grandma’s cosy special?
My Grandma was a cosy knitter extraordinaire!
Shema (“Listen”)
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...

Consider: is this a “man”
who slogs through mud,
who has never known peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or his "no" lies dead.

Consider: is this a “woman”
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?

Consider that such horrors have indeed been!

I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.

Rehearse them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.

Primo Michele Levi (1919-1987) was an Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust survivor. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems, but is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in ****-occupied Poland. It has been described as one of the best books by one of the most important writers of the twentieth century. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords: Holocaust, poem, Italian, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject
Brent Kincaid Apr 2019
President Comb-Over,
Quite the despicable guy
Got himself elected
But the wise folk wonder why.
Obama wore a tan suit
Conservatives went insane,
But this Wimpy lookalike butterball
Sports a totally artificial mane.

If ****** predation were a soccer game
This **** would win The World Cup.
If you ignored the news and his tweets
You’d think someone made this horror show up.
He’s lied and cheated and swindled his way
In to more lucrative deals than he deserved
Then a large minority of certifiable idiots
Elected him so he could to pretend to serve.

He took the Oath of Office, quite smugly
But that’s where his integrity would end.
He set about making deals for himself
His trophy wives, his offspring and friends.
He made few attempts to cover his tracks,
Mostly just shouted blatantly obvious lies
By which he was fooling no one intelligent.
Just the moronic, the foolish and unwise.

He relied on the vagaries of human nature
That voters are among the laziest humans
And would rather vote for a rascal it seems
Than take a chance on an honest new man
Or woman, or gay or an experienced soul
That could take over the Presidential reins
Instead of driving our country straight to hell
And making huge profits off the remains.

Brent Kincaid
4/23/2019
Laura Mar 2019
I rub my hands
Along my scalp
I watch the hair
Fall in the sink
Bleach blonde hair
With mousey brown roots
Locks upon locks
Falling to the sink
I tell myself I'm brave
I can do this
My hair will grow back
Yet I still cry
As I watch all the hair
That he touched
Fall to the sink
The hair that he stroked
The hair that he pulled
The hair that he brushed
out of my eyes
I watch him leave my head
Along with the last thing he touched
My hair
Amanda Francis Dec 2018
I dug around in your graveyard heart.
I took myself back.

You can take your vacuous words, your pigeon chest and balding hair.

And you can *******.
Ben Estrada Sep 2018
God is all good

God is all fair

To some he gave brains

To the rest he gave hair
One of my professors said this and
I can't help but feel like this is some kind
of natural law XD
Salmabanu Hatim Mar 2018
I am enough,
What I have is enough,
I have enough hair to cover my head,
So  I shaved,
No hassle for hair styles.
I have more than enough body mass,
I am in the obese class,
Diet and fashion are not my desserts.
I have enough I.Q to run my home,
Tutor my children some,
I have the portfolio of Minister
of  Finance and and Home Affairs.
I am an open book,
I have enough charm and looks,
To make people feel at ease with me.
I have enough *** appeal,
Ecstasy  and joy I feel,
Proof,my husband has not left me.
I have enough love to give away,
I am kind, they say,
Happy and with enough I want to stay.
Don't go for the stars. Be happy with what you have.
Colm Apr 2017
I see myself
Years down the road
My hair thin
Just as my fathers is now
Just as my grandfathers was back then

I see it clearly
White as snow
How the realization falls on me
That only in that time will I know
The meaning of true tiredness
The weariness of aging eyes
Which have seen the full duration of life

And looking out
From here inside
I realize that within my skin
A younger man will always reside

Even if my glasses one-day need frames
Or my love passes away before my eyes
Or something along those lines

I will probably write forever and always
Throughout every hour
Of the day and night
Because once the mind is awake and alive
It cannot stop perusing what is right

How I see it clearly
In this moment know
That the white which rests atop my head
Will not forever be of snow
Bald from Piebald, crowned with white
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