LitRev comp 'Hair' by 27th November
 

This is a nice subject for a poem, isn't it? The downside is that there's bound to be a huge postbag, so the chances of winning are...
no, I mustn't be pessimistic; that's dumb (but what did you expect from a blonde? :rolleyes:)

(Reminder: 24 lines max.)

Jayne

From Literary Review Deputy Editor Tom Fleming:

Next month’s subject is ‘hair’. Entries must rhyme and scan and reach these offices by 27 November.

The Literary Review
44 Lexington Street
London W1F 0LW

editorial@literaryreview.co.uk

Ah, I knew about this a couple of days ago and got myself a head start.

Hair

As eunuchs praise the love they never had,
Bald as an egg, I sing my TRICHIAD.

The hair that gave the Spartan warriors power,
The hair Rapunzel tumbled from her tower,
The hair that sprouts unbidden under arms,
The hair that grows on masturbators' palms,
The buttered hair of the ferocious Tartars,
The holy hair of Jesus' Saints and Martyrs,
The raw, red hair of vagabonds and bad men,
The hair that grows beneath the skins of madmen,
The long, blonde, braided hair of New Age cuties,
The hobbit hair that turns their feet to bootees,
The hair the sirens combed upon the rocks,
The pallid, hairy legs of kilted Jocks,
The hair Porphyria's lover wound around
Her neck to murder her without a sound,
Crisp, curly hair Lord Byron mourned the loss of,
Heroic hair Delilah proved the boss of,
Soft hair hot walnut shells scoured from the thighs
Of Roman boys,or else Suetonius lies,
Harsh, hideous hair of devils, rank and rough,
Light lamplit hair on girlish arms... enough!

Though finer lines Tom Eliot never penned,
My TRICHOMANIA here must have an end.

John, it seems to me that what you've got there is filthy .... lucre. (In case my meaning wasn't clear - BRILLIANT!)

I grow old and depraved,
I must keep my trousered ankles shaved.

I dare you to shave a peach.

Nah, you're right, I wouldn' t dare.

I have seen the mermaids shaving, peach to peach.

Hair today. . .
 

Hair Hair!

Harvesting hair from my ears patiently,
I glimpse the young man that used to be me.

Tweezing the hair from my imposing nose,
I know where the hair from my head now grows.

Trimming my chin hair, now turned yellow,
I see that I am a ripening fellow.

Clipping my crotch hair, lank and grizzled,
I grasp that libido has finally fizzled!

Ralph

From adolescence
To the grave,
A feller needs his
Burma-Shave.

John, I think this is wonderful, and it may have effectively killed the continuation of this thread.

Thank you Susan, but it should not. There are more ways of skinning a cat, you know. Not that I would dream of employing even one. I am talking to the cat in the corner. She is unconvinced and pushes her headless mouse in my direction.

And thank you too, Brian. One cannot have too much of praise from distinguished sources. Only a Hobbit would need to shave his ankles. Or perhaps a snake. You're the snake's ankles, as P G Wodehouse might have put it.

John, just a couple of small points.

I've always understood that Suetonius is pronounced "Sway-toe-nyus", but you seem to be counting either "Su-e" or "ni-us" as two syllables. Maybe it's the correct Latin pronunciation? If not, you could simply make it

Of Roman boys, or else Suetonius lies

And I'm having difficulty construing the two following lines. Is there some punctuation missing (e.g. a comma after "rough"), or am I being dense?

Harsh, hideous hair of devils, rank and rough
Light lamplit hair on girlish arms... enough!

Also, "Light lamplit hair" is on first reading a bit confusing (light/lit). What about "Fine" instead of "Light", or even "Fine downy hair"? But there I go, interfering again. And "lamplit" is very good.

There are so many splendid lines, but two of my favourites are:

The hair that grows on masturbators' palms

and

The pallid, hairy legs of kilted Jocks

Yet I wish I hadn't read it, because you seem to have snaffled the entire stock of historical hair, and now I can't think of anything for myself! "Brightness falls from the hair".

Brian