Beard Poetry

Nothing demonstrates a man’s love for his beard better than writing a few lines of poetry in its honor.  And nothing makes a great poet quite like a long robust beard.  Consider these legends:

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman

As you can see, beards and poems go great together.  The poems below were written by loyal Beard Coach reader and expert beard cultivator Kai “Longbeard” Cofer.  He has chosen the full natural beard style, and it is very much evident in his poetry.  Enjoy!

I decided it was time
For me to be a man.
So I went and threw my razor
In the garbage can.
If I didn’t cultivate it.
It would be a crime.
So I’m gonna grow my beard
Until the end of time.

All this hair upon my face
It grows there naturally.
Having me a long beard
Is the way I’m meant to be.
I don’t care if people say
I look like Z-Z Top.
Gonna keep on growin’
And I’m never gonna stop.

Don’t you know, I like the way
It billows in the breeze.
Just for fun I’m gonna let it
Grow down past me knees.
Gonna let it grow and grow
Until it hits the floor.
When that isn’t long enough
I’ll let it grow some more.

Some men they grow short beards.
Some men grow theirs long.
It’s a choice that they make,
Neither’s right or wrong.
I choose to grow a long beard.
Trimming’s not for me.
I let it grow “Au Natural”
I like mine wild and free.

I’m not a homeless guy
Or a crazy terrorist.
I’m not some slacker dude
Or a fundamentalist.
I’m not a criminal.
I have nothing to hide.
I let it grow so I can show
The man I am inside.

There is no law that says that I
Cannot grow facial hair.
And if you do not like it,
Well, so what, I do not care.
You think that I’m too hairy,
Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
I choose to grow my beard
To see how hairy I can get.

I am not the man today
That I was yesterday.
I keep getting better looking
Each and every day.
I grow my beard. I grow it long,
I grow it endlessly,
Because I want to be the man
That I was meant to be.

I refuse to live my life
Looking like a clone,
Walking down the pavement like
Another mindless drone.
Cookie cutter people,
No sir, that is not for me.
‘Cause I am really into

Just because I’m bearded
Doesn’t mean that I’m a joke.
Doesn’t mean I’m dirty
And it doesn’t mean I’m broke.
I’m an individual.
I’m rugged wild and free.
I am just expressing
The true man I’m meant to be.

Jim said he could get our music
On the radio.
He said that we had talent
And could make a lot of dough.
Jim said that he could get us gigs
In restaurants and pubs.
And if we grew our beards real long
We’d play the hottest clubs.

Our beards are super long now
And we need to thank old Jim.
He put it in our contract
Not to shave and not to trim.
He said that we should grow ’em long
‘Cause they would be our “Thing”.
And now we are the hottest band
Of long beards who can sing.

Our fans go crazy for us.
“Your beards rock”, they scream and shout.
The girls they seem to love it
When we whip our long beards out.
Guys say we’re wicked awesome,
Oh so cool beyond compare.
Who woulda thought that we’d be known
For growin’ facial hair.

When I was five, I asked my dad,
“Why do you shave your face?”
He said, “I do not know, my boy.
It does seem out of place.
I really don’t like shaving. It’s
Unnatural and weird.”
I said, “I’d like it very much
If you would grow a beard.”

At first it was all stubbly
But then it grew and grew.
At last it was a proper beard
After a month or two.
“Should I let it grow longer, son?
I’ll do what you think best.”
By the time that I was seven
His beard was to his chest.

“Is this beard long enough, my boy?
Perhaps not, don’t you think?
And if I were to shave it now
I’d clog the bathroom sink.
For you I’ll grow it longer, son.”
And so he did post haste.
And by the time that was ten
It hung down to his waist.

My dad he kept on growing it.
He grew it to his thighs.
He entered many beard contests
And always won first prize.
“Perhaps I ought to shave today.”
He’d often like to tease.
By the time I entered High School
His beard was past his knees.

And now that I am twenty-one,
I cannot help but grin.
I think about my dad’s long beard
And stroke my bearded chin.
I want a beard just like my dad’s
A beard down to the floor.
It represents the love we share
Now and forevermore.


  1. These poems are life changing. my beard us my most prized posession. Without it i would only be a nyan cat loving loser. but no. i am now the hottest 100 year old at the senior citizen club. my 8 foot curly beard has certainly impressed the ladies. i hope my beard will get my married before age 122

  2. I am a young fellow. This is the first November that I can actually sustain a beard that doesn’t look disgusting and I am having the time of my life

  3. The poem about the wind in the beard touched me deeply. One of my greatest pleasures is letting the wind toss my beard to and fro. Sometimes, it flows over my shoulder onto my back. How delicous can life get?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *