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Opportunity has hair in front, behind she is bald; if you seize her by the forelock, you may hold her, but, if suffered to escape, not Jupiter himself can catch her again.
Basically, they had asked me if I would shave my head or wear a bald cap. I said look, if you are doing a series for five years I would want to shave my hair because I would go bald with all the gum and glue from the bald cap.
quote by Persis Khambatta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leise Rieselt Der Schnee
Leise rieselt der schnee,
Still und starr liegt der see.
Winterlich glnzet der wald:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald!
In den herzen ists warm;
Still schweigt kummer und harm.
Sorge des lebens verhallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald.
Bald ist stille nacht.
Friede auf erden erwacht.
Horch nur, wie lieblich es schallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.
quote by Matthew Arnold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You don't find me too bald, do you? Old, and bald, and with a belly?
quote by Julio Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Astray
and times move so fast, and now there does not seem to be any
and once it felt that there was more than plenty
I do believe that something somewhere sent me
To you, astray, and the bald raging flame of your heart is making me stay.
and I admit, that I have spent some time in confusion
Not knowing what is or is not illusion
Riddled with myself and destruction
Astray, and the bald raging flame of your heart is making me stay.
and flux, we move, crawl across the sky like the weather
To think that she once thought that I was clever
But I was do or die not now or never
Astray, still the bald raging flame of your heart is making me stay.
song performed by by I Am Kloot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cravat Or Turkey Neck
The visible signs of ageing
the bald head
I've been nearly bald
since my early
twenties
the Friar Tuck grey hair
the last remnant
of a great teenage
Elvis pompadour
the turkey neck
I could disguise
with a cravat
but that's not me.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Ive Been Driving On Bald Mountain
Well Ive been driving on bald mountain
Well Ive been driving on bald mountain
Well Ive been driving on bald mountain
But Ive done my time, you know Ive done my time
Well look here buddy, whered you get your learning[? ]?
Well look here buddy, whered you get your learning[? ]?
Well look here buddy, whered you get your learning[? ]?
Well here you come, boy, here you come
Well I got my learning[? ] on big, bad guitar man [? ]
Well I got my learning[? ] on big, bad guitar man [? ]
Well I got my learning[? ] on big, bad guitar man [? ]
Well Ive done my time, Ive done my time
Well every little thing that, that you see shining
Well every little thing that, that you see shining
Well every little thing that, that you see shining
Well it aint no gold, lord, well it aint no gold
Well Ive been driving since johnny was a baby
Well Ive been driving since johnny was a baby
Well Ive been driving since johnny was a baby
Well Ive done my time, Ive done my time
Well Ive been driving on bald mountain
Well Ive been driving on bald mountain
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bald-headed Woman
Yeah I dont want no bald headed woman,
Itll make me mean yeah lord itll make me mean,
Yeah I dont want no bald headed woman,
Itll make me mean yeah lord itll make me mean.
Yeah I dont want no sugar in my coffee,
Itll make me mean yeah lord itll make me mean,
Yeah I dont want no sugar in my coffee,
Itll make me mean yeah lord itll make me mean.
Yeah Im traveling on a bald headed mountain,
Ive done my time, Ive done my time,
Yeah Ive been traveling them bald headed mountains,
Ive done my time, Ive done my time,
I said Ive done my time, I done my time.
I said Ive done my time now yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah,
Ive done my time yeah, Ive done my time yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Dont want no bald headed woman baby,
Yeah gonna make me mean, make me mean,
I dont want no bald headed woman,
Thats gonna gonna make me mean make me mean now,
Dont want no sugar in my coffee,
Gonna make me mean, make me mean,
Dont want no sugar in my coffee,
Gonna make me mean, make me mean.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scholars
BALD heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.
All shuffle there; all cough in ink;
All wear the carpet with their shoes;
All think what other people think;
All know the man their neighbour knows.
Lord, what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Olney poems
1
So through the dark
A recalled reality touched
With the unsteady ease
Found in the debris
OF some lost self
Stood there and waiting
A look of accusation
That stroked our conscience
2
The space of slavery
Carried the forelocks acceptance
Dip the guilty finger
in times Holy stoop
Congratulate our present freedom
of these presented blessings
A forelock touched again
The game plays on
3
And make the lace
To continue a life
Intricate Fragments of desperation
Provide an incidental decoration
A price so agreed
To enjoy a flower
And share the light
Of the communal bounty
4
Cowper brushed his teeth
Daily we passed by
Newton climbed his pulpit
We preached the land
They wrote their hymns
We escaped with drink
Today the forelock touched
Respecting their entwined lives
5
God roams his garden
With dances of creation
Proclaiming the ever paradise
With an outstretched hand
Inviting our forelocks touch
The fruit still entrances
Our obsessed nudity declines
From its cultured slavery
poem by Michael Oliver
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Bald Headed Woman
Well I dont want no bald headed woman
Gonna make me mean, yes, love, it make me mean
I dont want no bald headed woman
Gonna make me mean, yes, love, it make me mean
Well I dont want no sugar in my coffee
Gonna make me mean, yes, love, it make me mean
I dont want no sugar in my coffee
Gonna make me mean, oh, make me mean
Well Ive been driving on bald headed mountain
Ive done my time, done my time
Ive been driving on a bald headed mountain
Ive done my time, oh, done my time
Done my time, done my time, done my time
Well I dont want no sugar in my coffee
Gonna make me mean, yes, love, it make me mean
I dont want no sugar in my coffee
Gonna make me mean, oh, make me mean
I dont want no bald headed woman
Gonna make me mean, yes, love, it make me mean
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Better lose hair than head
Better ‘tis to lose hair than thine head,
As is between butter and bare bread;
If not a thing comes fair
Today, how can be hair?
So hail heads that bare are— bald, not dead!
____________________________________________
There is one thing worse, they say, than having a
bald pate— to be defensive, curse your fate. I was
not yet thirty when my hair began to be grey though
not thin. This was perhaps Nature's way of balancing
things as my face had badly tanned by the time I was
in my ‘teens. As the years added themselves to my
age the contrast only widened. But it was much
after I retired from paid work, the hairline began to
recede a bit. After all, a balance must be maintained.
This little ditty sums up my philosophy on hair.
________________________________________ ____________
-Tongue-in-cheek | 01.04.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Leo (skit)
this is leo, the cousin of the bitch that dont no nothing,
next caller, ya um,
i want ot know if my mom having an affair with my boyfriend
oh, okay, wait on, hold on hun,
the tarot cards never lie
but your gonna have to hold on
is 50 dollas a minute okay?
aight
next caller
WATZ YOUR NAME?
ADJIHAH
adjihah, wat da hell ya want?
ya i wanna know ...
who your babys daddy?
right?
ya, um is is the fat one
or the bald one?
hun, hold on,..........
no, its not the bald, or the fat one
the other guy you was with
oh okay
NEXT CALLER
BUT YOUR GONNA HAVE TO HOLD ON!!!!
song performed by by Ja Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet LXX
FResh spring the herald of loues mighty king,
In whose cote armour richly are displayd,
all sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring
in goodly colours gloriously arrayd.
Goe to my loue, where she is carelesse layd,
yet in her winters bowre not well awake:
tell her the ioyous time wil not be staid
vnlesse she doe him by the forelock take.
Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,
to wayt on loue amongst his louely crew:
where euery one that misseth then her make,
shall be by him amearst with penance dew.
Make hast therefore sweet loue, whilest it is prime,
for none can call againe the passed time.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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I Once Had The Body Of A God.
Now I'm a fat old sod.
Too many cakes and cream buns,
Around my fat chair are too many crumbs.
Once with the hair of a star,
I could have gone far.
Now the head is bald,
And the girls' no longer call.
The skin is red and blotchy,
And my temperament rather crotchety.
I walk the length of our house,
And want to sleep like the church mouse.
If you think I'm a cranky man presa,
You should see me on a bad day!
I'm down on myself and can't stand my ways,
The memory of the body beautiful is a haze.
Maybe tomorrow will see me in a better frame,
My humour may return but not betting just the same.
I could measure the possibility by chain, perch, or rod,
But I'll just be the same bald, cranky, blotchy, crotchety old sod.
RKH 29/08/2012 2: 17 PM
Whilst it is prime
FRESH Spring, the herald of loves mighty king,
In whose cote-armour richly are displayd
All sorts of flowers, the which on earth do spring,
In goodly colours gloriously arrayd--
Goe to my love, where she is carelesse layd,
Yet in her winters bowre not well awake;
Tell her the joyous time wil not be staid,
Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take;
Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,
To wayt on Love amongst his lovely crew;
Where every one, that misseth then her make,
Shall be by him amearst with penance dew.
Make hast, therefore, sweet love, whilest it is prime;
For none can call againe the passed time.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Ben apfelgarten
There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,
Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago,
And he was very fortunate in being very bald
And so was very happy he was so.
He warbled all the day
Such songs as only they
Who are very, very circumspect and very happy may;
The people wondered why,
As the years went gliding by,
They never heard him once complain or even heave a sigh!
The women of the province fell in love with genial Ben,
Till (may be you can fancy it) the dickens was to pay
Among the callow students and the sober-minded men--
With the women-folk a-cuttin' up that way!
Why, they gave him turbans red
To adorn his hairless head,
And knitted jaunty nightcaps to protect him when abed!
In vain the rest demurred--
Not a single chiding word
Those ladies deigned to tolerate--remonstrance was absurd!
Things finally got into such a very dreadful way
That the others (oh, how artful) formed the politic design
To send him to the reichstag; so, one dull November day,
They elected him a member from the Rhine!
Then the other members said:
"Gott im Himmel! what a head!"
But they marvelled when his speeches they listened to or read;
And presently they cried:
"There must be heaps inside
Of the smooth and shiny cranium his constituents deride!"
Well, when at last he up 'nd died--long past his ninetieth year--
The strangest and the most lugubrious funeral he had,
For women came in multitudes to weep upon his bier--
The men all wond'ring why on earth the women had gone mad!
And this wonderment increased
Till the sympathetic priest
Inquired of those same ladies: "Why this fuss about deceased?"
Whereupon were they appalled,
For, as one, those women squalled:
"We doted on deceased for being bald--bald--bald!"
He was bald because his genius burnt that shock of hair away
Which, elsewise, clogs one's keenness and activity of mind;
And (barring present company, of course) I'm free to say
That, after all, it's intellect that captures womankind.
At any rate, since then
(With a precedent in Ben),
The women-folk have been in love with us bald-headed men!
poem by Eugene Field
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Beyond The Old Man's Chair
the leaves of years
swiftly fall
the winds of change
the summers of acceptance
are quicker
the branches of time
have turned bald
a man is alone
but not sad as you expect
it thinks of a boat
sailing
it knows of a place
beyond his chair
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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