Hair Homage
So, I guess this is what happens when I don't work and have too much time on my hands: I write poetry about James's hair. :-P I'm not a writer, but every once in awhile--maybe every decade or so--I get inspired. So, I give you...
Hair Homage
by Immortal Beloved
Were I to write a poem,
I’d wax about your hair:
So thick, and lush, and lavish,
And just so very…there!
Oh, copious, coiled curls of wonder!
Oh, wanton ringlets,
Dark and rich like umber,
With silver filaments!
Whether long and shaggy,
Or whether freshly mown,
Your hair seems to have
A mind of its own.
One flopsy forelock-
That puckisk little imp-
Dances and prances
Like a peacocking pimp.
Sometimes, I stare in wonderment,
Eyes glazed over in trance.
Your hair is like Franz Mesmer,
Hypnotized with just a glance.
Once (or twice, or thrice…),
I confess, I copped a feel.
‘Twas just as I’d imagined:
Silken, soft, surreal.
Tick-tock, goes Time’s clock.
Yet, your hair still mocks
All those poor, bald bastards,
Coveting your locks.
No need for hair-loss treatments,
No Propecia or Rogaine.
Waves crown you with glory
Like the lion’s mane.
Delilah shore her Samson,
But I would never cut.
If your hair were mine to cherish,
I’d be a hair-porn slut.
Alas, your hair remains illusive,
A fancy, a mirage.
And I am but a poetaster;
So, I pay homage.
Homage Collage
A shout out to my peeps ms_scarletibis, unbridled_b, and winchstr_hemery, who helped me when I got stuck, and who are better at rhyming than the rhyming dictionary. :-)
Hair Homage
by Immortal Beloved
Were I to write a poem,
I’d wax about your hair:
So thick, and lush, and lavish,
And just so very…there!
Oh, copious, coiled curls of wonder!
Oh, wanton ringlets,
Dark and rich like umber,
With silver filaments!
Whether long and shaggy,
Or whether freshly mown,
Your hair seems to have
A mind of its own.
One flopsy forelock-
That puckisk little imp-
Dances and prances
Like a peacocking pimp.
Sometimes, I stare in wonderment,
Eyes glazed over in trance.
Your hair is like Franz Mesmer,
Hypnotized with just a glance.
Once (or twice, or thrice…),
I confess, I copped a feel.
‘Twas just as I’d imagined:
Silken, soft, surreal.
Tick-tock, goes Time’s clock.
Yet, your hair still mocks
All those poor, bald bastards,
Coveting your locks.
No need for hair-loss treatments,
No Propecia or Rogaine.
Waves crown you with glory
Like the lion’s mane.
Delilah shore her Samson,
But I would never cut.
If your hair were mine to cherish,
I’d be a hair-porn slut.
Alas, your hair remains illusive,
A fancy, a mirage.
And I am but a poetaster;
So, I pay homage.
Homage Collage
A shout out to my peeps ms_scarletibis, unbridled_b, and winchstr_hemery, who helped me when I got stuck, and who are better at rhyming than the rhyming dictionary. :-)