Poems Composed Upon Accidentally Shaving Off My Beard and Not Accidentally Growing It Back

I made my students write a whole bunch of those formula poems that they often make you write in high school (you know, a cinquain, a "why" poem, a poem where you have to pick something and decide what seasons it's like, a comparison poem). It was sort of fun, and they actually produced some neat stuff.

Anyway, yesterday was our poetry reading day, and I thought that if they had to write all those formula poems, so should I. So, this is what I came up with--a cycle of poems inspired by the accidental shaving of my beard. They liked them, but if you've read my last post, you know that that may not mean much.

Poems Composed Upon Accidentally Shaving Off My Beard and Not Accidentally Growing It Back

My beard
Spreading always over the surfaces of my face
the wide plains, the rolling hills, the tiniest crevices.
Never ceasing to grow…
Except for that one time when I accidentally shaved it off.

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My beard, spreading over the surface of my skin,
Like moss growing on the north side of the tree,
Like barnacles clinging to a new hull,
Like skin closing over the opened wound.
Things return to their rightful places.
I think this is the better of my faces.

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My beard is like the fall.
As autumn leaves cascade groundward at the faintest breeze,
So fell my beard into the sink. One errant touch of the trimmer.

My beard is like the spring,
Awaking from a bare and chilly sleep,
To put forth full foliage
Despite the fallen hair…
Despite the fallen hair.

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My beard,
warm, fuzzy-goodness,
shining, shimmering, seducing,
Man, I really missed you—
O Beardy.