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His Hair
We've never combed his hair since he was born,
But we only cut it when it grows long;
And that is how he came into the world with his curly hair.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Best Way to Comb the Blonde Hair
Years is the worst unforgivable hairstylist
He cuts my hair short;
shorter than our short story..
He cuts my hair off;
off the last relationship..
Now it's 4 sharp in the afternoon,
i, wooden, seize the comb, wooden.
Mirror does not tell lies
age can only climb high.
the comb runs through my hair
my hair flows through somewhere
more strands of hair are gone..
more worries are born
I forget how I combed hair
back in those years..
A young blonde is coming..
and i gonna ask her this question.
poem by Garland Jodie Jeen
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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
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When Mother Combed My Hair
When Memory, with gentle hand,
Has led me to that foreign land
Of childhood days, I long to be
Again the boy on bended knee,
With head a-bow, and drowsy smile
Hid in a mother's lap the while,
With tender touch and kindly care,
She bends above and combs my hair.
Ere threats of Time, or ghosts of cares
Had paled it to the hue it wears,
Its tangled threads of amber light
Fell o'er a forehead, fair and white,
That only knew the light caress
Of loving hands, or sudden press
Of kisses that were sifted there
The times when mother combed my hair.
But its last gleams of gold have slipped
Away; and Sorrow's manuscript
Is fashioned of the snowy brow--
So lined and underscored now
That you, to see it, scarce would guess
It e'er had felt the fond caress
Of loving lips, or known the care
Of those dear hands that combed my hair.
. . . . . . . .
I am so tired! Let me be
A moment at my mother's knee;
One moment--that I may forget
The trials waiting for me yet:
One moment free from every pain--
O! Mother! Comb my hair again!
And I will, oh, so humbly bow,
For I've a wife that combs it now.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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It is easy to work with a good comb, said the devil, when he combed his mother's hair with a pitchfork.""
The Afro
There once was a man on Pluto
Who had a great big afro
He combed his hair
(Lost his sister there)
Don't worry, that was quite long ago
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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All a woman needs is a good bath, clean clothes, and for her hair to be combed. These things she can do herself. I very seldom go to the hairdresser, but when I do, I just marvel.
quote by Hedy Lamarr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Push and pull
Slightly sliding slanting
No I'm not a fool
I am merely chanting
The hills of my unkempt hair
Combed in hues and shades
That sing harmony to despair
When my heart slowly cascades
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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I once saw an albino kangaroo,
Beside a tasmanian devil at the Melbourne zoo!
A koala was there,
While a wombat combed the hair,
Of that snowy white cute kangaroo!
quote by by Robert Edgar Burns
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A Morning Idea
when you arrive this morning
i am already prepared
for whatever you say and would want me to do
i have changed clothes, washed my face
combed my hair, and ready to go with you
wherever and whatever happens
I am waiting
and you are so silent
looking over the window
facing the sky blue sea
and the flying white seagulls,
since i respect you
i sit beside you and
i will not ask
why
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mirror, Mirror
A young spring-tender girl
combed her joyous hair
'You are very ugly' said the mirror.
But,
on her lips hung
a smile of dove-secret loveliness,
for only that morning had not
the blind boy said,
'You are beautiful'?
poem by Spike Milligan
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Also, they don't understand - writing is language. The use of language. The language to create image, the language to create drama. It requires a skill of learning how to use language.
quote by John Milius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Together- No More
She approached the car
Noticing
His hair was combed neatly
And his seats
Felt damp with mourning
They became louder than before
Then a lot more quiet
As the rain came down
On metal
And defeat
Their hands almost touch
Warmth absent
So she ran off to cry
And as she did
With that last glance
The plates on his car
Illuminate
with a neon show
That say
TRY
poem by Ana Burnhep
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Another fool
One fool should not ask to another fool
As it may then look unique and wonderful
Fool may laugh at wise man for his foolish observance
Wise may then keep quiet for availing golden chance
We may fair little in native language
As it may then be easy to interpret and manage
Many great statesmen may intervene and challenge
Question your authentic presentation in dark page
So poets avoid their mother tongue language
Seek global exposure and try to engage
Induct new philosophy and try to woe
Drag in near acceptance and prove true
I am no exception and fall in same category
But what to do except to feel sorry!
Here if I speak in local language
They answer with foreign ascent and score leverage
It is easy to have some level playing field
If not more but some influence can be held
As everybody wants good or bad followers
There won't be dearth of sensible readers
I found topic very much interesting
There was not much for investing
I thought of arguing foolishly
I know readers may respond stylishly
It is good to note with humor
In fact everybody is wise and clever
Poet should place honorable space with readers
They are the real medium to provide the ladder
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Body Language
Words and music by freddie mercury
Give me body give me body body
Give me your body
Dont talk dont talk dont talk dont talk
Baby dont talk
Body language body language body language
Give me your body
Just give me yeah your body
Give me yeah your body
Dont talk
Body language huh huh
Body language body language
You got red lips snakes in your eyes
Long legs great thighs
You got the cutest ass Ive ever seen
Knock me down for a six any time
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Of body language of body language
Yeah sexy body sexy sexy body
I want your body
Baby youre hot
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Krishna Wanting The Moon
Mother, the moon I want as my toy.
I will roll on the floor,
Not come to your lap,
Nor have my hair-braid combed.
No longer will I be your child
I will only be Nand baba's boy.
Listen son, come to me
There's a secret from bal we can hide.
Hiding her smile, Yasoda said,
I'll give you a brand new bride.
Quick then, Mother, I swear by you
A wedding is what I'd like.
poem by Sant Surdas
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Sonnet: Heaven 's Immaculate
How well it looks when combed, the hair of man!
The lawn that’s green and mowed quite recently!
The lovely plaited hair of a woman!
The furrowed soil made by tractor, gently;
How well it looks a macadamized road!
The field ready for harvest, weeds all plucked;
The crane's pulley-lifting a heavy load;
The man wearing a tie and with shirt tucked.
How well it looks, the body spick and span!
The tranquil mind whose thoughts are always clear;
The purified and sinless soul of man;
The human heart whose love is crystal-pure.
Heav'n- abode of God's immaculate;
To enter, souls must be stringently fit.
poem by John Celes
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"WHAT language is thine, O sea?" "The language of eternal question." "What language is thy answer, O sky? "The language of eternal silence."
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dodder
Hey! Mr.Wise.Intellectual
what you expect from this man?
Do you want him to join your language marathon.
A skinny; you can count his ribs.
Let him stay as a semicolon
and don't make him a full stop.
You may keep your dogmas with you
and let him crawl to the grave.
From my stressful heart, dedication to a certain reader who insulted me publicly for some grammar mistakes of my poems.I agreed and I know my limitations as the English is my second language and without any hesitation I would like to say that I am still a beginner.Please excuse me, my friendly readers.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bad Hair Day!
My mom would scream and run away
My plants would wither and die
My sister would think she is having a nightmare
My cousin would wish she knew how to fly
My dad would faint on the spot
My teacher would send me out of the class
My principal would expel me for sure
I won’t be allowed to write my exams
My music teacher would show me the door
I am in a complete fix
I wish there was another way
I should have listened to my mother
And combed my hair today.
poem by Risha Ahmed
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