Stubborn Hair

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I impart a tale,
Full of woe and wail,
Whose foundations lie right it is roots,
And though you may doubt,
For these seek us out,
I divulge that this story be true.

The scenery’s set
Far, far to the west
Of this land that we dare to call home.
Though for some it may seem
That to come to this scene,
To the east is the way we should roam.

And so I begin,
For words cannot win,
By quantity, the love of your heart.
I merely put forth
This tale, and so thought
That with it to create such as art.

T’was a man of pride,
A forgotten guide
Through this life of strange whims and designs.
On his chin did grow,
And this do I know,
A thick beard that he treated with wines.

He set in this beard
All pride that he dared.
In it did he carry his sanity.
But it came to pass,
As facts follow facts,
In it he devoted his vanity.

Though long and weary,
He loved it dearly.
Each strand of hair he took care to groom.
They became as one,
Like father and son.
In his heart there occurred no more room.

At this you may scoff,
But please wait your part,
For you see some at this may feel tears.
’Tis sickness of mind,
We all feel in kind,
Or a way that we deal with our fears.

As founder of base
To the story we face,
I recount now a tale from the past.
It was from this beard,
’Gainst one that he feared,
Did erupt a most furious blast.

It seems, as it went,
His foe did seem bent
On causing the utmost of sheer pain.
It seemed his foe sought
To poke fun and thought
To drive hard our poor friend from his brain.

He punched, he did kick,
With boots, using brick,
All the while our poor hero did run.
Though he went too far,
Put our man on guard.
At the touch to his beard did he turn.

He soon came to life,
Ripped free of the strife,
Pushed back where he’d been put down.
He fought back in fight.
Kicked hard and kicked right.
And his foe returned back not around.

So you see he cared
For his straggly beard.
It provoked within him a defence.
But confused was he
When there seemed to be
A new cause that declared much more sense.

Now I know you’ll see
This cause seems to be
The small matter of taking a wife.
A matter of love
Strikes far, far above
All others in any young man’s life.

The wife he would choose
All amour did she lose
At the sight of that great bunch of hair.
So with razor in hand,
Created a plan.
It was time that his beard wasn’t there.

A hard decision
With his life’s mission
To sustain all the hair on his chin,
But his strength of heart
Would play murd’rous art,
For the shaving would now just begin.

He took blade in hand.
It grated like sand.
Though it sliced hairs with lightest of ease,
And as each one fell,
He felt living hell
Turn so much that the end did him please.

Glance in the mirror,
Realised an error,
From his chin there remained one more growth.
With that he took blade
And with it then made
Now to cut the hair free with an oath.

All acts did it seem
To avoid with glee.
Or at least one might say from the knife.
He placed blade in sink,
And sat down to think
Of the best way to end this hair’s life.

So with two fingers,
’Fore thought could linger,
Tried to pull follicle from his face.
He pulled and he pulled,
He twisted and turned.
When suddenly came forth a small voice.

“Please, please do not pull!
It’s hurting, you fool,
Me a hair who’s been with you since birth.
Just leave me in place,
Right here on your face,
And I swear I shall give you the earth.”

Picture if you can,
The face of a man,
From which there does appear a strange voice
That prom’ses him all,
With child like of call.
And, tell me, what would be your fair choice?

“How come you can talk?
Is this devilish art?”
Our hero questioned the hair.
The hair did reply,
“I don’t wish to die.
For I have a magic that’s rare.

Please ask what you will,
For I have the skill
To fulfil all your wildest of dreams.”
So the hair did ask
To be giv’n at last
In return, some more time, so it seemed.

Our hero sat down,
With a pensive frown.
What to ask, was the question in hand.
’Til at last he came
To the answers name.
He would ask for all riches of land.

“Be still. Oh, be still
What you ask I will
Most gladly give in due course.
But give me some time,
These powers of mine
Are slow to come to my thoughts.

Perhaps something else
I can handle myself,
While I wait for my skill to return.
A slight trick that’s good,
Or comforting food,
Or perhaps a poor sod I can burn?”

Of course he now thought
A lie had been wrought.
Him the hair had tried to trick.
“Just give what I ask
While patience mine lasts.
Or your life will end with a clip!”

Though at this he felt
The singular pelt
Sent a shock that ran right through his chin.
“Ha-ha! You may doubt!”
The hair shouted out,
“Now you feel! Let the magic begin!”

When at once appeared
From mystical hair,
Thick brown mud that did fill all the space,
The hero did not
Believe that this sot
Did fulfil what he asked of his face.

“Oh treacherous you,
you gave me not blue,
nor green, nor red ruby stones.
You, as is my luck,
Just gave me some muck.
Your powers aren’t worth a groan!”

“Just please hold your tongue,
I still am not done.
Your request was just imprecise.
So much as is so,
You have one more go.”
And to think, our man did close his eyes.

“Alright I have come
To an easier one.”
He began with an irritable voice.
He then did give out,
With a rise to a shout,
The details of all that in his choice.

“I’ll eat like a king,
You cretinous thing.
Just make sure that you get this one right!”
Once more there befell
That weaving of spell,
And behold! Only food filled his sight.

“You see I speak true,
Oh mistrusting you!
Your fine food lies right here on the floor.”
Our man simply looked,
“It’s covered in mud!
That is it I shall take not one more!”

“Oh please! One more chance!
But this I dare ask!”
The hair cried the most pitiable plea.
The man simply stood
And thought all he could,
Till he came to his wish number three.

“There is a desire.
The girl I admire
To return the affection I feel.”
He paused and took breath,
As if facing death,
“I do wish that our love now came real.”

“Right fine, kill me now!
You murderous lout!
All my powers are not quite so strong.
I cannot achieve,
And nature deceive,
For this spell would not last all that long.”

In anger he tore
At his face once more
And the hair was pulled free with a cry,
“You cannot succeed
This falsified deed.
But at last, pity me, I shall die.”

While he stroked his chin,
He did not begin
To think on what the hair said.
“I do come, my sweet,
To sweet you from feet,
For my beard is now all dead!”

So now he set out
To find what he sought,
And you think that this tale should now end.
But there is some more
Than even I thought,
Or at least so told me my dear friend.

D’you recall that foe,
I described long ago?
It appeared that he had him a friend.
And he did possess
The very same quest.
This to make that same girl his quest’s end.

But having once met
This friend did not fret,
Thinking our hero a fool,
Seeing him beardless,
Hearing him fearless,
Challenged our man to a duel.

It occurred by chance
The girl no romance
Could ever cause true love at the first.
Important to her
Was no courteous cur,
But the measure of man by his worth.

As such, our hero,
Finances at zero,
Found his heart would now shatter in two.
So when duel began,
Neither thrust nor ran.
And as such he was run through and through.

He lay on the ground,
All bloodied and brown,
He thought through all the hair’s final words.
“How true,” he put forth
“And I merely thought
That the hair did but utter a curse!”

It is sad to say,
But buried that day.
Not a soul came to give their goodbyes.
His killer by means,
From rich family,
Was married the following July.

There’s moral right here,
But please do not fear.
It is quick and painless to utter,
For I hope you will
Not take it at ill,
And pass this moral to another.

-Please do not change
Yourself or your name
For the sake of that some one you like.
Be just yourself,
And nobody else.
For lying will not ever end right.-

But be not like him
Time invested in
A most obscure, and hairy delight.
Please go and find love,
Or just have some fun,
Just make sure that you do live your life.

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 Like this work? Become a fan! Weekly updates on all new work; 
monthly reviews and feedback on your work, or adhoc upon request; 
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Go Back To: "Invalid Item"  
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