A Barbigerous Bastard

barbigerous: bearded; bearing a beard

My Connection: I worked for a decade in an environment where I wasn't allowed to have facial hair, because of the need to wear breathing apparatus when toxic gas was released. Traditionally, the men who left that environment grew beards in celebration. That's how mine originated. Today, I wear it for a very different reason.

My poem:

A barbigerous bastard am I

(Figuratively – no reason to cry.)

I do know who sired me (and how)

Though he's been gone many years now.

*

But I shall not digress! There's a reason

I wear this beard through every season.

Though tradition first brought it to being,

It's now about what you're not seeing.

*

I was tempted one day and removed it,

Because, as you know, I'm a half-wit.

The result was traumatic and jarring

And left some emotional scarring.

*

At some time, while I'd covered my face

And old man's had taken its place!

***

Thanks for reading! This is my entry for the second round or Penny Fuller's fun, ongoing challenge:

If you enjoyed the read, please leave a heart, a comment, and ten million dollars. Ok, never mind the money. You can't blame a starving, old writer for trying, right?