"alopecia" poems
A bee with innards spilling
A lost tabby,
A blimp caught up in trees,
Tintern Abbey.
The gravestone of a lover,
A drowning ship,
An NHS delivery of
Fortisip.
A girl with alopecia and
Fungail nails,
A one legged pigeon,
Exploding whales.
Ivy choked churches,
Merlot tongues,
Parrots plucking feathers,
Marlboro lungs.
Girls locked up in attics,
*** toys.
Boys punching girls
And punching boys.
Babies crowning
Fussed about like kings.
Darlings,
You shall see such pretty things.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
There are too many hairs
I keep blowing off my keyboard
To pretend they aren’t there
And that they can be ignored.
I can't pretend I have gone blind,
I am admitting they are all there
And that they come from me;
They truly are my own hair.
It must be true, I hazard
Because I can see my scalp.
It’s a situation from aging
For which there is no help.
I have long expected it.
It will do no good to whine.
The disappearing tonsure
I needs must claim as mine.
And so I placate myself
With selfish comparisons
I may look older than others
But much better than some.
Not many decades ago
I once thought sixty was old.
I am thankful for my friends
Who decided not to scold.
They knew I was being
Just the least bit callow.
But they avoided labeling me
With words like vain and shallow.
So, perhaps the vain part
I have with me even now,
And I would abandon that
If I could figure out how.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
Have you ever heard the tale
about the hedgehog with no spikes,
such a sweet little boy
who all the other’s didn’t like?
A case of alopecia,
there was nothing they could do,
such a sad little hedgehog
who cried and cried, “Boo-Hoo”.
But soon the lad grew older,
he wanted to look more lush
so onto his back he tied himself
a little scrubbing brush.
His friends, well they just laughed at him
and bullied him all the more,
until one day, he'd had enough
and walked out through the door.
For years not much was heard of him,
his mother, she did fret
for she’d heard about the busy roads
and trouble, in which, he could get.
But life had turned out fine for him
and soon he’d found a place
where he could earn a little living
and put smiles on many a face.
Within the railway station
with his brush upon his back,
a jumping and a jiggling till
the queue would start to clap.
People travelled from miles around
just to come and watch the show,
their trips no longer boring
they would leave with faces aglow.
But what’s the hedgehog doing
to make the people come to see?
What makes them laugh and cheer
and fills their hearts with so much glee?
You've never seen a shoe shine stall
with such a special knack,
for the owner was a dancing hedgehog
with a brush upon his back!
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 3rd January 2014
Revised 26th August 2015.
Artwork by Angie Caira.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
“Haha! Dangling by his shoelace
- ******* shoelace - from his ivory tower!” Oh, **** me,
Priceless.
Watch - his hair is plastered spiderleg across his brow
His fringe as bland and tasteful as his alopecia will allow.
“The ****** Never took a little pride.
“Come on, don’t give me that. He never tried.”
And now he stands, and laughs, and someone’s died.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:02 PM UTC
Everything is such fun in the beginning,
when it’s new and undiscovered.
i’ll try almost anything.
What is meant by almost?
All these stupid sick **** roles we play,
all this pretending, why?
i want to believe there’s something
behind the curtain
besides a windowless stone wall
Something inexplicable
his/her majesty of everything/
living/dead/never existed.
William Blake said, “Either be a poet or a painter.
Being both muddies audiences, and discredits one or the other.”
Actually, Blake didn’t say that. i am lost.
is it possible to love after what has happened?
the rage, hurt, disappointment of betrayal.
my ex still stalks
as recently as two mornings ago,
all her exaggerations, over-reactions, fury.
Why so desperate to return to crime scene?
An admission of her own guilt?
Excessive compulsive wound licking (psychogenic alopecia)?
Another excuse for getting drunk?
When we waited for the elevator going down
You said, “Let’s just get this over with.”
i understood completely.
i, who worships my own death.
i, who ****** on my own grave.
i, who gets bored faster than speed of light.
i, who suspects killing around every corner.
i, who sleeps restless.
i, who worries.
i, who loves women.
i, who does not understand women.
i, who is a woman.
i, who bangs the dude in L.A. to advance my career.
i, who is a nobody.
i, a man with no place to stand.
i, who belongs to a family of
blustering flirts, flatterers,
kidders, thieves.
We sit at the table,
monkey-wrenching hand over fist lives.
Forget about the eyes.
Watch the fingers.
Don’t listen to the speeches.
Words are intentional distractions.
Where’s your wallet?
Gypsies? No, we’re not gypsies,
more upper-crusty, yes, very well-connected secrets.
Do the names Dante, or Cervantes, or Nabokov mean anything to you?
No, none of them are our kin,
but we know people who know people,
infidelities in very high places.
All i’m saying is,
once you reach a certain level,
we’re all family.
i will make success happen,
with or without you.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
I don't know where, where to exactly to begin
Being judgmental should be a mortal sin
Don't look at me like I'm outrageous
Alopecia Areata Isn't contagious
My spots maybe be small, big and round
But there is always someone who has it in your town
Alopecia Areata doesn't discriminate
Any one can have from birth to 108
I have no clue why it had to pick me
Genetic, Stress or just Hereditary
All I know that there isn't a cure
I've tried all the treatments that's for sure
Hair follicles are in a sleeping state
When I lost all my hair was the icing on the cake
Doctors really don't know why
But when they told me all I could do was cry
Found myself all alone and in pain
Thought I was going to go practically insane
Made a few call and met a friend
Slowly my hurt and confusion came to an end
I've come along way not to hide my head
Use it as a strength and to my advantage instead
If you don't understand and want to know more
There is valuable information out there that's for sure
Don't hate me because I have almost no hair
You can talk and giggle honestly I do not care
The smirks, whispers, and goofy looks
One can educate themselves by reading a book
There might be a slight difference between you and me
When you notice an Alopecian don't look at them any differently
I'm still alive and sent from above
Alopecians Such as my self Value the true meaning of love
Next time you see and Alopecian Walk by
I implore you do not hesitate to say hi!!
Oct 31, 2009
Oct 31, 2009 at 10:30 PM UTC
The year was 1995
I had long hair;
I felt alive.
The hair was lost -
I ceased to thrive.
To accept the loss
First failed but strived.
And in the end,
Well, I survived!
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
'LOVE IS BLIND'?
'Love is blind'?
what nonsense!
then how come we have
'love at first sight'?
Shakespeare in one sentence
had hoodwinked us since 1616
true, he wrote great drama and poetry
but we must note
he didn't study medicine
nor opthalmology
and mind you
we are living in the 21st century
with all the science and technology
surely it would be the greatest folly
to just quote the bard's cliche blindly
the eyes have it
ask the ophthalmologist
without the eyes
the lover would not see
beauty
and as a corollary
how could you love somebody
if in the first instance
you were blind id est--you couldn't see!
careful, so careful we must all be
to differentiate between reality
and the ranting of silly poetry
if this myth were to perpetuate nilly-willy
mankind would look really silly
that would look good not even to the slightest degree
and one more thing
please bear with me
and this is the bard's secret history
he had chancre--venereal ulcer
for which he received treatment
could he have written 'Love is blind'
being affected by that odious malady?
London's brothels he did visit frequently
when he was away from Stratford-upon-Avon
he drank a lot too--there is ample evidence
he also had anasarca (oh mercy!)
result of mercury-related membranous nephropathy
( we shall not defile him further-
but his alopecia was due to treatment of mercury
for his syphilis---what a medical litany!)
in conclusion
we could somehow see
that England's greatest writer
was not as bright as he had been taken to be.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
no please,
i like it when you speak to me as if i were, god forbid, human.
i didn't ask for this to happen to me
and i didn't ask for people
to waltz around broken glass and eggshells
as if i were the most delicate of them all
i don't need
hushed whispers and words
stuck between oblivion and physical sound waves
because fear of offending me
clutched at your vocal cords
i know what it feels to be missing a part of myself
and what it means to be holding onto something
that isn't promised to me
i know what it means
to be hiding a part of yourself
for the sake of others
and i plead that you
save yourself the trouble
i've had enough self pity
because now i realize
alopecia
holds you back
from being who you are
it's a safety blanket
it's wishing that you had green eyes
when you were born with brown.
it's as simple as that.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
Testing testing testing
Do you know trichology?
Its oh so tricky you see
It's the trickiest thing to me
I can't seem to decipher between
pityriasis and pediculosis
Trichcatilosis it's all so noxious
Hypertrochosis is an overgrowth process
If you knew what was happening to me
You'd be like "see ya wouldn't wanna be ya"
Because the effects on me of trichology
is causing me alopecia
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
A shady copse,
Hiding under trees that fell.
The hair of the beauty that tumbled out beneath the wedding day hat.
Clumps of severe alopecia,
The bride looked like a father, a holy one, not a pretty mother.
Four months before that wedding day, her boy child born a precious date.
The date was set,
The bathroom covered in stragglers,
Strands of missing falling hair.
The sink was blocked,
The door was locked.
She sat and sobbed,
blubbing as a child would.
The special day came and then it left for a few months no hair,
The lady was bereft.
Her sorrow was very short lived,
Well fairly anyway,
A few short months,
Her hair renewed so full and fast,
As thick as fields of summer hay.
Crowning glory was restored,
The sorry bride she cried no more.
(c) Livvi
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
Iv'e dated a woman with Alopecia
And others that were Hirsute
The attraction wasn't hair, or lack of
Just a nature that was absolute
by Jemia
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 8:03 AM UTC