Having no ointment and box why do you pose as hairdresser.
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The Haircut
They sat me down upon their chair
Anxiously and impatiently I sat there
Nervous was I, so I whimpered out a sigh
But I was ready for them to cut my hair.
The hairdresser she talked to me for a bit
I felt happy and handsome I must truly admit
She felt my hair, as the patrons did stare
As upon that swivel chair I did sit.
I was then taken to the Shampooers sink
The Hairdresser shampooed my hair as I did think
I spoke, but I stalled, happy I am that I am not bald
So instead I gave my hairdresser a happy wink.
I was then led back unto my chair
I smelled the scent of her perfume in the air
I was then afraid, as I saw the tools of her trade
But she promised me all of her loving care.
Clip, clip, clip the scissors I then did hear
So close was that sound was to my ear
My hair it fell, from my head it was expelled
As I watched her craftsmanship from her mirror.
Then not long later she finished her job
I looked at my hair and I gave her an appreciative nod
She then finished the clip, I gave her a tip
At her work and gentleness I was both pleased and awed.
RANDY L. McCLAVE
poem by Randy McClave
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Hairdresser On Fire
Here is london, giddy of london
Is it home of the free -
Or what ?
Can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary
And psychologically save me
Ive got faith in you
I sense the power
Within the fingers
Within an hour the power
Could totally destroy me
(or, it could save my life)
Oh, here is london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy, busy
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just so busy
Busy, busy
Busy scissors
Oh, hairdresser on fire
(only the other day)
Was a client, over-cautious
He made you nervous
And when he said
Im gonna sue you
Oh, I really felt for you ...mmm...
So can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary;
And supernaturally change me ?
Change me, change
Oh, here in london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just too busy
To see me
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire
(only the other day)
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The face reveals
In a revealing or provocative pose
It's easy for a woman to catch men's eyes.
In a concealing pose if one does it,
It's due to her face, which reveals the rest.
28.04.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vogue a Pose
Assimilate all of your excessive moves.
Co-ordinate every accessory you choose.
Separate each pose,
To develop into downloaded grooves.
And vogue a pose you could carry over...
Like a model throttled up,
In a hold held bold.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!
Assimilate all of your excessive moves.
Co-ordinate every accessory you choose.
Separate each pose,
To develop into downloaded grooves.
And vogue a pose you could carry over...
Like a model throttled up,
In a hold held bold.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My hairdresser and I found ourselves shopping at Bloomingdale's with nothing to do for days.
quote by Chita Rivera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think that the most important thing a woman can have - next to talent, of course - is her hairdresser.
quote by Joan Crawford
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I think the most important thing a woman can have - next to talent, of course - is her hairdresser.
quote by Joan Crawford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And What Is A Photo
And what is photo
The photographer can tell you.
And what he told
Is to conform the pose.
And the pose if neglected
Spoiled you and the picture.
And your life is in danger
O Photographer please guide
You are my master.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Story of Or
To pose nakedness is
To refute it. A pose
Is a clothes. Like
Stanzaic arrangements of
The word which should
Ideally, be in pain against
Its w and its d. No slack
Is why such heaves of or
To denude itself could
Make us exude gold, yet when
Was that ever opposite enough
What scream or epigram
This sperm has come
To measure our mouths for.
Note: For 'or' to free itself from 'word,' it must strain ('heave') against the 'w' and the 'd' that enclose it. If, via this strenuous (perhaps squeamish) process, the meaning of 'or' is transmuted from the English into the French as a sort of homage to the pseudonymous author of 'Story of O' (Histoire d'O), then, alchemically speaking, (or so an Aurealist might suggest) it will have risen from the pose of its measures to or-emerge as an else-gasm.
poem by Bill Knott
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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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A good name is better than precious ointment.
Time cures the sick man, not the ointment.
Hint From Voiture
Let Sol his annual journeys run,
And when the radiant task is done,
Confess, through all the globe, 'twou'd pose him,
To match the charms that Celia shows him.
And should he boast he once had seen
As just a form, as bright a mien,
Yet must it still for ever pose him
To match - what Celia never shows him.
poem by William Shenstone
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If you can give me no ointment for my wound, can you help me by not rubbing salt in?
Doing the right thing for someone else was like a tonic for me; it was like some magic ointment that made a wound disappear.
quote by Susie Bright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savour.
The Pose
He looked at the painting,
his lover in the nude.
And as he stared
it always changed his mood.
Young and frail
but still a delight.
He looked at the painting
on every night.
He remembered the pose
as if yesterday,
provocative it was,
her eyes far away.
Were they remembering
the brush strokes used
or the feel of his hand
and how they fused
together as one
when the pose was over.
Now all that was left
was the painting,
not the lover.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I love a lot of things, and I'm pretty much obsessive about most things I do, whether it be gardening, or architecture, or music. I'd be an obsessive hairdresser.
quote by Gates McFadden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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