"scruffiness" poems - Hello Poetry

Is it the hair on your chin? The scruffiness of your cheeks? The strength of your long arms? The thickness of your wallet? Your word-play with women? Or the sweat and dirt on your forehead? What is it?

0

Dec 25, 2013

Dec 25, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC

david-gonzalez

Manhood

Is it the hair on your chin? The scruffiness of your cheeks? The strength of your long arms? The thickness of your wallet? Your word-play with women? Or the sweat and dirt on your forehead? What is it?

7

I miss you incredibly And not the kind of miss where I feel like I need you right here- right by my side, I mean the kind of miss where I would wake up to you- early mornings on my time every weekend, while you're still trying to sleep asking if I could come into your arms... I miss the moment when you would hold up the blanket letting me in- allowing for the electricity of my body to mesh with yours. I miss rubbing my fingers through the scruffiness of your beard- however uneven the lines, I miss twirling my fingers around that one piece of hair- right above your forehead. I miss kissing you passionately making each moment like a science- hot like blowing glass. I miss your laughter, your reassuring nod, the way your head shook when I would say "I'm ready for bed" ...we both know I wasn't ready for bed- I was ready for you- all of you; the smell of you, the taste of you, the touch of you. when I say I miss you, I don't mean it in a selfish way... I mean it in a way of misunderstanding. How can it be that the universe has agreed to separate us- you're there and I am here, waiting for you, waiting for us.... I miss you in all the ways I love you.

0

Apr 21, 2015

Apr 21, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC

kara-lynn-bird

the letter i'll never send.

I miss you incredibly And not the kind of miss where I feel like I need you right here- right by my side, I mean the kind of miss where I would wake up to you- early mornings on my time every weekend, while you're still trying to sleep asking if I could come into your arms... I miss the moment when you would hold up the blanket letting me in- allowing for the electricity of my body to mesh with yours. I miss rubbing my fingers through the scruffiness of your beard- however uneven the lines, I miss twirling my fingers around that one piece of hair- right above your forehead. I miss kissing you passionately making each moment like a science- hot like blowing glass. I miss your laughter, your reassuring nod, the way your head shook when I would say "I'm ready for bed" ...we both know I wasn't ready for bed- I was ready for you- all of you; the smell of you, the taste of you, the touch of you. when I say I miss you, I don't mean it in a selfish way... I mean it in a way of misunderstanding. How can it be that the universe has agreed to separate us- you're there and I am here, waiting for you, waiting for us.... I miss you in all the ways I love you.

51

Here between clouds and timezones I’m listening to hella woman engaged In life and realness The couple next to me deeply in love And I am present with sorrow Clutching at my throat Sobs caught in my chest Rereading the words As I again slice through The emotional contrails I leave in the sky I had thought that I lost my muse He is gone from me But his shadow urges me still To pen this turbulence The green sparkle of his eyes The soft scruffiness of his beard The way he flowed through life And tears ***** my eyes Their thorny appearance An admittance of the fact I still long for him To hear him speak of math, or art To hear him flow To hear his voice like a summer field Sunshine and mountains, and snow I still dream of the 5th year After we’d parted We spoke in husky voices What would happen if I arrive On his doorstep broken Lost Alone Have we now created this? This future only whispered Over whisky Clutching hands and through tears How I made him loose a tooth How he replaced it with gold Just to **** me off How his mother still worries at him How long he stuck with me Through doctors to just find out what is wrong How we turned into “that couple” In Jackson; infamy follows us The dream of our daughter Mary Elizabeta Fierce and thoughtful like her mom Sharp and brilliant like her dad FieryAuburn and burning Too brightly for most Suspended from standford 3 times for brawling with faculty How she fights with Lily Swords at the ready she throws herself at my elder daughter But can’t land the strike The Klack of Shinai The sound of Lily barking “AGAIN” Mary’s angry frustration comes through in her Kiai How my son saved his life Jury rigged an oxygen mask To counter the stroke Keep his brain alive Together we grow old looking over the Tetons Through tears and grasping for each other Together we invented the best life I’ll never have And I dream of it always

0

Dec 4, 2018

Dec 4, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC

Softlyspoken

Dreams of nothing made real

Here between clouds and timezones I’m listening to hella woman engaged In life and realness The couple next to me deeply in love And I am present with sorrow Clutching at my throat Sobs caught in my chest Rereading the words As I again slice through The emotional contrails I leave in the sky I had thought that I lost my muse He is gone from me But his shadow urges me still To pen this turbulence The green sparkle of his eyes The soft scruffiness of his beard The way he flowed through life And tears ***** my eyes Their thorny appearance An admittance of the fact I still long for him To hear him speak of math, or art To hear him flow To hear his voice like a summer field Sunshine and mountains, and snow I still dream of the 5th year After we’d parted We spoke in husky voices What would happen if I arrive On his doorstep broken Lost Alone Have we now created this? This future only whispered Over whisky Clutching hands and through tears How I made him loose a tooth How he replaced it with gold Just to **** me off How his mother still worries at him How long he stuck with me Through doctors to just find out what is wrong How we turned into “that couple” In Jackson; infamy follows us The dream of our daughter Mary Elizabeta Fierce and thoughtful like her mom Sharp and brilliant like her dad FieryAuburn and burning Too brightly for most Suspended from standford 3 times for brawling with faculty How she fights with Lily Swords at the ready she throws herself at my elder daughter But can’t land the strike The Klack of Shinai The sound of Lily barking “AGAIN” Mary’s angry frustration comes through in her Kiai How my son saved his life Jury rigged an oxygen mask To counter the stroke Keep his brain alive Together we grow old looking over the Tetons Through tears and grasping for each other Together we invented the best life I’ll never have And I dream of it always

69

His eyes are galaxies as I stare into them; Countless colours, always changing. His skin as soft and welcoming as a fresh set of sheets, A feeling like coming home. The scruffiness of his hair is never off putting, It is as endearing as a child's laughter. His smile is my sunshine on the darkest of days, It is a wonder the whole world hasn't fallen under it's spell. Lips as soft as velvet, comforting and warm. Kissing them is better than any joy I have imagined. His figure is a drug, so heavenly and refined. I just can't stay away. His fingers that please, his fingers that tease. The very same that run lovingly through my hair. And his words, simple sweet sounds. But do they really mean anything at all?

0

Sep 8, 2014

Sep 8, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC

emily-hannah

For Conor

His eyes are galaxies as I stare into them; Countless colours, always changing. His skin as soft and welcoming as a fresh set of sheets, A feeling like coming home. The scruffiness of his hair is never off putting, It is as endearing as a child's laughter. His smile is my sunshine on the darkest of days, It is a wonder the whole world hasn't fallen under it's spell. Lips as soft as velvet, comforting and warm. Kissing them is better than any joy I have imagined. His figure is a drug, so heavenly and refined. I just can't stay away. His fingers that please, his fingers that tease. The very same that run lovingly through my hair. And his words, simple sweet sounds. But do they really mean anything at all?

16