Hair is the first thing. And teeth the second. Hair and teeth. A man got those two things he's got it all.
quote by James Brown
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My First Boyfriend
My first Boyfriend
was Stanley Gardner
whomI met in kindy
all thirty long years ago.
He wore silver braces
and thick jam jar glasses
whereas I had buck teeth
That jutted out a mile
and a mop of frizzy hair
but he declared his love for me
by sharing his vegemite sandwich
and orange juice popper
in the sandpit,
in the middle of the oval
And now 30 years on I meet him again
with his wife and child
He has the straightest of teeth
and sans hair and glasses
And me with straightened hair
And perfect teeth
courtesy of my cosmetic teeth makeover!
And my orthodontist
With Teeth
But she will not let you go
But this time Im not coming back
She will not let you go
But this time Im not coming back
Keeps holding on
She will not let you go
Keeps holding on and on
She will not let you go
No, no, no, no, no!
With teeth
With teeth
With teeth
With teeth
I cannot go through this again /x8
No, no, no, no, no!
With teeth
With teeth
With teeth
With teeth
Youve finally found the place where you belong
It comes on strong
She makes you hard
The rules have changed, the line begins to blur
To what you were
Wave goodbye
With teeth
With teeth
With teeth
With teeth
And it runs deeper than you dare to dream it could be
The black seal
She makes you better than anything youve tried
Its in her kiss
She comes along
She gets inside
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vision of an old Man
A cool breeze touched his white hair
While he was walking in the mystery street
Long life has made him to bend,
In front of the things those the history made
He was old, old enough to see the world for what it is
He was old, old enough to feels the death
He was old, old enough to think about the life that passes
He was old, old enough to see the real masses
White hair, as white as the teeth
Teeth those just moved for lots of times
Blue eyes…
Which were covered by glasses, Glasses of lies? !
Hands of times aren't cruel, it's their duty
We can't stop them of the work they are doing
BUT! A time, it's our turn...
To be old, and then burn...
The old man wanted nothing instead of a simple respect
Respect, the thing that is forgotten for these people
A day that old man was young and powerful, but so prideful
And now he is old like his father that was…but now he is none full
He just needs respect, a respect for his white hair
Respect for his long life that is passed
Respect for his respectful heart
That now is tears a part.
poem by Ellias Anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Colours localized.
Dark hair, not dark skin,
White teeth, not white hair,
Red lips, not red blood,
Yellow skin, not yellow teeth
would please.
What harm did the colour do?
11.12.2001, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shoehorn With Teeth
He wants a shoehorn, the kind with teeth
People should get beat up for stating their beliefs
He wants a shoehorn, the kind with teeth
Because he knows theres no such thing
He asks a girl if they can both sit in a chair but he doesnt get nervous
Shes not really there
He wants a shoehorn, the kind with teeth
Because he knows theres no such thing
Tour the world in a heavy metal band
But they run out of gas
The plane can never land
He wants a shoehorn, the kind with teeth
People should get beat up for stating their beliefs
He wants a shoehorn, the kind with teeth
Because he knows theres no such thing
Whats the sense in ever thinking about the tomb
When youre much too busy returning to the womb?
He wants a shoehorn, the kind with teeth
People should get beat up for stating their beliefs
He wants a shoehorn, the kind with teeth
Because he knows theres no such thing
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teeth
English Teeth, English Teeth!
Shining in the sun
A part of British heritage
Aye, each and every one.
English Teeth, Happy Teeth!
Always having fun
Clamping down on bits of fish
And sausages half done.
English Teeth! HEROES' Teeth!
Hear them click! and clack!
Let's sing a song of praise to them -
Three Cheers for the Brown Grey and Black.
poem by Spike Milligan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dear Pedant
You thought I’d:
bleach
my teeth
paint
my nails
fix
my hair
prance
in heels
cook
large meals
f**k
each night
love
old friends
make
new plans –
instead I:
doubt
new plans
scorn
old friends
run
each night
miss
all meals
fall
in heels
tear
out hair
bite
plain nails
clench
back teeth
When We Were Here Together
when we were here together in a place we did not know, nor one
another.
A bit of grass held between the teeth for a moment, bright hair on the
wind.
What we were we did not know, nor even the grass or the flame of
hair turning to ash on the wind.
But they lied about that. From the beginning they lied. To the child,
telling him that there was somewhere anger against him, and a
hatred against him, and the only reason for his being in the
world.
But never did they tell him that the only evil and danger was in
themselves; that they alone were the prisoners and the betrayers;
that they - they alone - were responsible for what was being done
in the world.
And they told the child to starve and to kill the child that was within
him; for only by doing this could he become a useful and adjusted
member of the community which they had prepared for him.
And this time, alas, they did not lie.
And with the death of the child was born a thing that had neither
the character of a man nor the character of a child, but was a
horrible and monstrous parody of the two; and it is in this world
now that the flesh of man’s spirit lies twisted and despoiled under
the indifferent stars.
When we were here together in a place we did not know, nor one
another.
O green the bit of warm grass between our teeth. O beautiful the hair
of our mortal goddess on the indifferent wind.
poem by Kenneth Patchen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maybe it's the hair. Maybe it's the teeth. Maybe it's the intellect. No, it's the hair.
quote by Tom Shales
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mundane Moments
When vacuousness approaches, the rosy apples
Continue to linger on sleepless saucer. The crunchy teeth
Where passions glittered, rest a concrete silence
Lustless hands hung loosely across the heart
When does nihility approach. Why does it come
ruminating manay a loner eve rolls by
The beard lengthens, nails, hair and unsociability
Disrupting doorbell I lie down in vacuum
Devoid of enlightement
And once again I became aware of the friction of teeth
And observe hands and cruel teeth
Engrossed once again in munching apples
poem by Choudhuri Sukumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty is not in colours
Black hair is nice, but not black teeth.
White teeth are nice, but not whit hair.
Red lips are nice, but not red eyes.
Black eyes are nice, but not black lips.
Beauty is not in colours;
Beauty is in the concepts.
25.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dental Poem
Natural teeth are best for men;
See the dentist now and then;
Don’t eat more of sugar stuff;
Don’t chew tobacco or puff!
Brush your teeth, both morn and night;
Wear your dentures, smooth and light;
Floss your teeth to rid off food;
Keep your oral hygiene good.
Extract teeth that hurt the cheek;
Let gums not bleed nor turn weak;
Rinse your mouth after a café;
Keep your God-given teeth safe.
Do not drink hot tea / coffee;
Do not eat sweets like toffee;
Let your breath be fresh and free;
Keep your teeth strong and healthy!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-9-‘10
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Want More Hair?
I'd love
I think
more hair
more hair
like a big
old grizzly bear
more hair makes
you manly
more hair
makes you tough
more hair feels
like carpet
more hair keeps
you rough
more hair
for pretty ladies
to rub their faces on
more hair for
guys to jealous of
and more locks that can
be flung
I think more hair would be awesome
but I wouldn't wanna overdo it
because too much hair would make
me like a little furry blanket
and I couldn't cover both of us
just you and that ain't fair
more hair!
poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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L A Inflatable
Oh well her skin it was softer than velvet
And her eyes were as bright as a childs
Her lips were a promising picture
Warm and celluloid
But her words had me thinkin too deeply
The meaning be-lying her face
Made me look just a little bit closer
Between the lines
L.a. smiles to hide the frown
L.a. promises to follow you down
L.a. teeth, and l.a. hair
L.a. curves that shouldnt be there
They really shouldnt be there
She said youve got to be seen at the roxy
The strippers will know who we are
But youve got to be seen to be happy
Youre a tinseltown star
Youre going upwards and downwards and sideways
Man youre really caught up in a dream
With your head burning under the starlight
From the studio scene
L.a. smiles to hide the frown
L.a. promises to follow you down
L.a. teeth, and l.a. hair
L.a. curves that shouldnt be there
They really shouldnt be there
L.a. inflatable, she never says no
L.a. insatiable, you dont have to go
L.a. charisma
Well she knows all the famous musicians
Sometimes she sees how they play
And when the back stage passes are going
She really knows how to pay
Shes a product of rock 'n roll livin
Shes a victim of hollywood hate
Shes a soul survivor
Shes the midnight special
Gonna lay you to waste
L.a. smiles to hide the frown
L.a. promises to follow you down
L.a. teeth, and l.a. hair
L.a. curves that shouldnt be there
They really shouldnt be there
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Did My Spring Go?
Where did the spring go?
Where did the trees go?
Where did the sun go?
Where did the bluebirds fly?
Why did the rainbow turn into shadows?
Why am I cold now?
Why does my skin sag?
Why aint my back straight?
Why do my feet ache?
Where did my youth go?
Where did my life go?
Remember walking in the rain,
And getting soaking wet,
Now I got rheumatic pains,
And I really do regret it.
Where did my teeth go?
Where did my muscles go?
Where did my shoulders go?
Where did my chest go?
When you were loving me,
You were just using me.
You would employ me,
You would destroy me.
Now all Ive got are varicose veins.
Where did the spring go?
Where did my hormones go?
Where did my energy go?
Where did my go go?
Where did the pleasure go?
Where did my hair go?
Remember all those sleepless nights,
Making love by candlelight,
And every time you took my love,
You were shortening my life.
Where did my teeth go?
Where did my hair go?
Where did my shoulders go?
Where did my chest go?
Where did my hormones go?
Where did my go go?
Where did my energy go?
Where did my skin go?
Where did my muscles go?
Where did my liver go?
Where did my heart go?
Where did my bones go?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That miller is honest who has hair on his teeth.
Morning Poetry
morning has come and you wake up and open
as a form of instinct
your computer.
Teeth not brushed.
Hair scattering.
Mote still in the eye.
without thinking you
start scribbling.
Type what is in
your mind.
Instinctively.
This is what you want.
Morning as a form of
literary instinct.
No serious thought
just plain stream of
consciousness.
You pause.
You look outside
the glass window.
Pierce through.
There are no people
here.
The pavements is
as silent
as the wall.
Mute World.
The air blows.
Leaves fall.
Some careless
droppings
of migrating
birds.
why is poetry getting
to be an instinct?
Habit of the mind.
Exercises of
the heart.
Like plain
jogging.
Stretching of the
imagination
like arms
of the sky.
The sun comes out.
Light scatters on
my scattered hair.
I feel the
thickness of
my gums.
Teeth are always
patient.
Heart beats.
Mind shrinks.
Words dominate.
A new world
is born.
You do not exist
in my mind.
i deny you.
there is no space
here.
i point to the
tip of my
head,
i touch the
side of my
chest.
I forget
one thing.
Someone
is here.
always
instinctively
unnoticed.
O God!
Is that you?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Became So Close
She endorsed my salad tossing.
It was the only thing she knew
The two of us grew to enjoy!
I had given up on eating meat.
And she had given up on street teases.
Those she thought pleased passersby!
We found something natural between us!
We became so close...
I let her pick the hair she said laid on my teeth,
And wet lips.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Much Hair
There is thin hair,
heavy hair,
There is gray hair,
and red hair,
then there is no hair,
I will be hair
for you forever,
every hair you go,
I will go hair to.
(4-11-07)