I was 23, and that was my first professional job. Anybody who has curly hair knows you don't want it to be brushed out because it becomes a never-ending tangle.
quote by Judy Davis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Erotic Hair
when my hair
gets long enough
after a month
uncut by
my gay barber
they become
so curly
like my pubic
hair
and women
and even gays
love all the curls
of my hair
erotic hair
and i am wearing it
as a crown
understand
i am coping up
with mid-crisis
and i like to
say
i got hair
and they are too curly
like my
(messy) sex life
listen, my life
begins at 69.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Jamie
Ither laddies may ha's finer claes, and may be better fed,
But nane o' them a'has sic a bonnie curly heid,
O sie a blythe blink in their e'e,
As my ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.
When I gang oot tae tak' a walk wi' him, alang the Magdalen Green,
It mak's my heart feel lichtsome tae see him sae sharp and keen,
And he pu's the wee gowans, and gie's them to me,
My ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.
When he rises in the mornin' an' gets oot o' bed,
He says, mither, mind ye'll need tae toast my faither's bread.
For he aye gie's me a bawbee;
He's the best little laddie that ever I did see,
My ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.
When I gang oot tae tak' a walk alang the streets o' Dundee,
And views a' the little laddies that I chance to see,
Nane o' them a' seems sae lovely to me,
As my ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.
The laddie is handsome and fair to be seen,
He has a bonnie cheerie mou', and taw blue e'en,
And he prattles like an auld grandfaither richt merrily;
He's the funniest little laddie that ever I did see,
My ain curly fair-hair'd Iaddie, Little Jamie.
Whene'er that he kens I am coming hame frae my wark,
He runs oot tae meet me as cheerful as the lark,
And he says, faither, I'm wanting just a'e bawbee,
My ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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She loves her hair stretched
accustomed to curly hair
when we were yet children
living in the same house
I feel uneasy why she
wears stretched hair
And she takes pride
about her new found fashion
And taste for something straight.
Curly hairs and split ends
Never gave her luck
She got an ugly husband
Who does not understand her
Rich maybe, but slaps her
It is time she gains confidence
In herself to a newer face
A stretched hair, straight
And candid and ready to
Fight now, win or lose,
At whatever costs she must
Deny her old self, the one
With the curly hair, she is
Ready for the consequences.
Her right as a new woman
With stretched hair is now
Or never, she has no time left
Anymore for hiding and cowardice and tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A girl with curls...! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
I don’t like my curly hair.
Everyday I say a prayer.
God, please make my hair straight.
I want to make two long plaits.
Do you think He hears my plea?
Oh, she asked innocently of me.
Dear, you look truly like an angel.
But they are always entangled.
Please, please pray for me.
I want hair like you, you see.
Do you think He really loves me?
Darling, He loves everyone you see.
Then why did he make my hair curly.
He loves you very, very dearly.
On hearing this she did a jig.
He must have a heart really big.
I just can’t love everyone.
That boy who teases me, for one.
Then she clapped and ran about.
Kicking the ball, scream and shout.
Forgot all about her curls.
How dainty is my little girl!
Of Anika, for Anika, my grand daughter
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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To a Prospective Cook
Curly locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet weed the flowers,
But stand in the kitchen and cook a fine meal,
And ride every night in an automobile.
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, come to us soon!
Thou needest not to rise until mid-afternoon;
Thou mayest be Croatian, Armenian, or Greek;
Thy guerdon shall be what thy askest per week.
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, give us a chance!
Thou shalt not wash windows, nor iron my pants.
Oh, come to the cosiest of seven-room bowers,
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Never Ending
(words & music by kaye - springer)
Walk down to the beach at sunset
Look as far as you can see
You will find that endless ocean
And thats how my love will always be
I bring you never ending, never ending
Never ending, never ending
Never ending, never ending love
Look up at the sky at midnight
Gaze up on the starlit view
Just as heaven has no boundaries
Neither does my love for you
I bring you never ending, never ending
Never ending, never ending
Never ending, never ending love
Never ending love
Never ending love
Never ending love
Never ending love
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sliver Dream
To a curly hair girl
Last night, I dreamt in the dream
Orange tree, growing at my heart
Under blue sky, on the blue ocean
Wind of change, lifting my heart
Last night, I dream in the dream
Curly hair girl, walking softly
Visible into my eye, I only saw her shadow
With wing of angel, flying slowly
Over my starry sky, in my dream
Oh, curly hair girl, beheld me with your eye
And you will see, life is not a dream
Or love is not dream in my eye
Through lonely night, I dreamt of song
That neither lyric, nor music
Nor word, but I still could hear the song
Of your walking, softly, on my heart.
poem by Kathup Tsering
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The Little Girl With Curly Hair
there is this little girls with black curly hair
flat nose, thin eyelashes, wavy goatish eyelids,
sitting on a bamboo pole
(the common furniture there)
with bare hands and bare feet
staring at me,
for i am new here and i have a big tummy
and i am white skinned, and i have candied
inside my pockets, she knows that soon
i will throw all these candies in the air
for all the other children
but there is something strange about this
little brown girl with curly hair sitting all alone
on that bamboo chair
her father and mother were killed in the last rebellion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXXIV: From A to Z
Affecting heart is never ending zone
Becoming the best is never ending ambition
Collecting money is never ending business
Defining happiness is never ending comparison
Expecting future is never ending dream
Feeling lonely is never ending emptiness
Glittering light is never ending fantasy
Hiding the truth is never ending guilt
Imagining peace is never ending hope
Jealousy rage is never ending inferno
Keeping trust is never ending job
Living life is never ending knowledge
Memorizing something is never ending labyrinth
Not having the ability is never ending misery
Obtaining respect is never ending need
Pursuing love is never ending obsession
Questioning human is never ending paradox
Research and study is never ending quest
Smiling sincerely is never ending river
Telling lies is never ending story
Understanding fate is never ending temptation
Various culture is never ending uniqueness
Watching interest is never ending vision
X factor is never ending world
Years for price of wish is never ending xxxholic
Zipping a flat tummy is never ending yearning
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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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
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Emotional Tangle
(j. farrar/b. thorpe)
The moment we met you knew me
I felt you melt into me
Wrap round my heart and shake me inside
One simple conversation
Such gentle communication
Love found a way in and to my surprise
From the emotional angle
Were in an emotional tangle
And if you feel like Im feeling
Its love from this angle
This tangle can never be tight enough
Till now it was easy stalling
Feeling but never falling
Id always stop before it could start
Love brought our lives together
With a magic that lasts forever
And nothing on earth can tear us apart
From the emotional angle
Were in an emotional tangle
And if you feel like Im feeling
Its love from this angle
This tangle can never be tight enough
I just cant get enough
Want you day and night
No taking away my appetite
So spin me in circles
Pull me tighter and tighter to you
From the emotional angle
Were in an emotional tangle
And if you feel like Im feeling
Its love from this angle
This tangle can never be tight enough
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gecko Named Curly Tail
Looking down on the ground
Curly Tail the gecko waits
without a sound.
I say "Hello honey-how are you?
Where are your kids this afternoon?
Then when I leave the door
Curly Tail's offspring
is scampering once more.
Curly Tail waits for me
on the black mat—
It's like he knows where I am at.
He knows when I leave to go far,
he knows when I get out of my car.
Thanks Curly Tail for waiting for me-
see you later by the tree.
Written by Christina Sunrise on July 4,2012
www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Bad Hair Days (A Fun Poem)
Everyday is always a bad hair day for me
Mine is very curly, they told me it's kinky
I have a hard time combing my hair, you see
Have to visit my hairdresser to fix it for me
It was very shiny, as straight as can be
It was always like these since I was a little lady
Now, I am used to see this everyday
Ummm, I don't see what happened to me
Getting up early in the morning is not that easy
I have to have a ribbon to hold it, the neighbors might see
Never mind If they laugh at me and call me crazy
I have a God who loves me and take care of me.
Hey! I am elated this way, God created me like that,
And no bad hair day will ever make me give it back,
Yes! Truly blessed to have hair as pleasing as can be,
Think what you want, I absolutely adore it. He he he!
Hmmm..not a bad hair day at all...I love it..! ! ! He he he
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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Whiskeyn Mama
Im so tired, you on my head.
Whiskeyn mama, you shouldnt have said
You wanted me to be your lover true,
Then turn around and treats me just likes you do.
I should have known better than to fool with a whiskeyn mama.
Now I could be right and could be wrong,
You been layin out all night long.
You telephoned this mornin, said youd be home soon.
The doorman said he seen you at the club blue lagoon.
I should have known better than to fool with a whiskeyn mama.
Whiskeyn mama, you standin there
With your curly hair
Just to have you do me good.
I know you could if you only would.
Whiskeyn mama, you standin there
With your curly hair
Just to have you do me good.
I know you could if you only would.
Well, the sun come shinin on the rain soaked street.
Whiskeyn mama, where can she be?
I guess Ill have to put you down on my list,
I didnt wanna do it but you insist.
I should have known better than to fool with a whiskeyn mama.
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girls With Curls
Girls who have a natural curl
to their hair are completely
agitated with the bending trend...
they heat their flat iron discreetly
Testing to make sure it won't burn
patiently taking their hair by strands
smoothly ironing the kink... firmly
pressing as hard as it will withstand
Gradually natural curls are
entirely straight as a board
not a wave or twist is insight...
An hour of diligence gives reward
Girls with naturally straight hair
admire girls with curly hair
they wish they too could have
bounce and twirls without a care
It is their desire to duplicate
curly hair in order to feel pretty
Hours are spent carefully spinning
strands upon spools until weary
After waiting somewhat patiently
the time for triumph slowly arrives
Gently undoing the spins to see
beautiful ringlets for which they strive
It is a perplexing mystery to unravel
It is unknown to the great intellects
of the world why some girls undo
curls while others pursue… it is complex
9/4/2010
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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That girl
That girl
with bangs on her hair
a pink headband, thick lips pure red,
curly hair, mini skirt, and bleached legs
as white as may sky,
the way she sits tells me
that she is a woman now
beautiful to be with
because of her
bad habits.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Started Something I Couldnt Finish
The lanes were silent
There was nothing, no one, nothing around for miles
I doused our friendly venture
With a hard-faced
Three-word gesture
I started something
I forced you to a zone
And you were clearly
Never meant to go
Hair brushed and parted
Typical me, typical me
Typical me
I started something
...and now Im not too sure
I grabbed you by the guilded beams
Uh, thats what tradition means
And I doused another venture
With a gesture
That was ... absolutely vile
I started something
I forced you to a zone
And you were clearly
Never meant to go
Hair brushed and parted
Typical me, typical me
Typical me
I started something
...and now Im not too sure
I grabbed you by the guilded beams
Uh, thats what tradition means
And now eighteen months hard labour
Seems ... fair enough
I started something
And I forced you to a zone
And you were clearly
Never meant to go
Hair brushed and parted
Typical me, typical me
Typical me
I started something
And now Im not too sure
I started something
I started something
Typical me, typical me
Typical me, typical me
Typical me, typical me
Typical me
I started something
And now Im not too sure
Ok stephen ? ...do that again ?
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eros
The flowerlike
animal perfume
in the god’s curly
hair —
don’t assume
that like a flower
his attributes
are there to tempt
you or
direct the moth’s
hunger —
simply he is
the temple of himself,
hair and hide
a sacrifice of blood and flowers
on his altar
if any worshipper
kneel or not.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Haircut.
The Barber came to cut my hair,
I told him that it wasn't fair.
My hair had done him no harm,
Without it I would loose my charm.
The Barber he grinned a silly grin,
Said to cut my hair would be no sin.
That I should face it like a man,
But I'm a coward and away I ran.
Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,
With him chopping away your lovely hair.
Once my head was full of curls,
Covering my face with twisty twirls.
But then the Barber came my way,
I was a child, I had no say.
Off came my curls one by one,
The Barber seemed to have great fun.
Now I'm old and very grey,
I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.
But when I see a Barbers chair,
I feel the loss of my curly hair.
You know I truly rue the day,
When that first Barber came my way.
poem by Bernard Shaw
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Nappy Head
Your hair is dirty, good sir -
Said an innocent child to me one day.
I have what they call African hair,
A natural nappy head.
Its brownish colour they call mousy
What I really would like called auburn.
And so the kid had observed,
She was innocent though
And I had to explain to her
That the same creator who endowed her
With her long beautiful black curly hair
Had also done the same with my kinky mousy one!
poem by Kimani wa Mumbi
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