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The Teenager On His Bicycle
Wearing brown shorts and a blue football jersey and with sneakers on his feet
The teenager on his bicycle he goes whistling down the street
The evening is warm and breezy the wind tosses his long brown hair
As he pedals near the sidewalk he doesn't have a care.
The teenager on the bicycle he quickly glanced my way
And he broke off from his whistling just for to say 'good day'
And again he commenced whistling as he quickly pedalled on
And I fancy I still can hear him though from my sight he's long gone
Off to his football training of greatness he does dream
Of being a renowned footballer in a champion football team
The youth need a dream to follow his dream he will pursue
Lets hope life will stay good for him and his dream for him will come true.
The teenager on his bicylcle as he goes pedalling by
He breaks off from his whistling for to say a friendly hi
With his football boots strung across his handlebars he cycles to the park
For to train with his young team mates till twilight fades to dark.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Paid Her
Subjects,
Touched,
Eventually;
I was a teenager ans she was a teenager!
And love came and took us away into the deep blue ocean! !
But, we finally landed home in peace.
Envisioned,
Promises,
Hope,
Deception,
Wide opened! !
And like the perfection of her beauty;
But i paid her all the dues on this love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love hair
I got down onto the bed and started kissing you but my long hair got in the way and I felt like I kissed myself.
Long straight hair which fell onto your head was the wall between me and you and I feared if I said: I love you, I would be saying it to myself.
I tried to move myself away from you but couldn't and soon my hair was all over your body, protecting it from my love.
I really felt like I loved myself when I kissed my hair that was against you.
And it started feeling weird after a long time doing it.
poem by Maria Junnonen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Pretty Ballerina
Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy your movements so graceful and beautiful
How i long for your lean figure and fragile frame
Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy the way the world spins around you
Yet you don't fall like the rest
How i long for your balance
That keeps you so poised
Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy your slippers
That gleam in the lights
How i long for the dresses
That shimmer with every glide you do
Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy your perfection
How i long for your adoration
poem by Korey Buffo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The monk with long pretty hair
I love this life,
Sworn to serve the poor,
My body honed to perfection,
With the life style,
The material skill,
The difficult chores,
And the blessing our the lord Buddha,
I will always honor him,
For he gave me the greatest gift of all,
My long pretty hair.
The others start to object,
Claiming my head needs shaving,
There just jealous,
I wear the orange robe,
What more do they want?
I’m always on time,
The best in my class,
I bet that’s why they hate me,
Because who could hate,
My long pretty hair.
Everyday I realise,
My hair is all I care for,
I made my excuses,
I need to be clean,
Because cleanliness is holiness,
Suddenly there’s not enough hours in the day,
I cut the training,
And fall behind on my chores,
To stare at perfection in the mirror,
My long pretty hair.
The Masters are angry at me preaching,
That my hair sets me apart,
As indeed it does,
I see the jealousy in every eye,
They hate me because I'm perfect,
Why should I shave my head?
Am I not the universe’s chosen?
Above all the others,
So what if I’m the better with,
My long pretty hair.
I’m banished from my home,
But that’s ok,
They left me a mirror,
Which I stare into all day,
I found my true love,
Better than my old life,
Helping and healing and fighting,
I rebel against my order,
Despite all I lose I still have,
My long pretty hair.
On the execution block I stand,
In all my glory,
They took my mirror away,
And dared to touch my hair,
Who can blame me for hurting them?
They deserved it,
And now I stand,
Proud and tall,
With my hair flowing free,
Caressed by the breeze
My long pretty hair.
And I now hang by the gate,
By my long pretty hair,
Final glory for everyone to see.
My long pretty hair.
poem by David Whittingham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Supermodels Are People Too
The long legs, the long eyebrows
The short skirts, the absence of bras
The silky hair, the flat chest
The short nails, the long nose
The small hole, the long toes
And they fail to wear their Sunday’s best
Supermodels are people too.
They eat like the exotic pelicans
They walk like the rowdy drunks
Who kicked the old beer cans
Next to the illegally parked vans
Supermodels are people too.
The angels of the nights
The exquisite sights
The retired pimps of the streets
They refused to eat the hot beats
Who shed blood not tears
The walking style of the hungry deers
Supermodels are people too.
All men want one
All men want to win
The sugar daddy behaves like a teenager
Who is not afraid of the lonely stranger
Supermodels are people too.
They grow old occasionally
They belong to a special crew
Sometimes, they forget to be pretty
At the carnival, they jump and dance
In the middle of the crowd, they dropp top and pants.
Supermodels are people too.
poem by Hebert Logerie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I was regarded as the school freak which further reinforced a lot of inhibitions and doubts I had about myself. I was a shy, frightened teenager for a long time.
quote by Winona Ryder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Anti-abortion Song
Isn’t there a baby inside you,
You teenager?
Isn’t it alive within you,
You teen mother?
How come you did not know it,
For this long time?
Oh, without sex, can you turn
A teen mother?
*
There is a living baby
Inside your womb;
Don’t murder to stay happy,
And build its tomb!
Abortion’s murder most foul,
You teenager;
Don’t do a thing to put it
Into danger!
*
A baby’s inside because
You were careless;
It is a child of God too,
Don’t be ruthless.
If mom aborted you, then
Would you be here?
Allow the child to be born:
Don’t you now err!
*
Don’t you abort the cute babe,
Hear its sweet voice;
It pleads to God; be ‘pro-life’
And you rejoice.
There is a life within you,
Apart from yours;
It is your boy or girl own:
Don’t be ‘pro-choice! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-29-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The barbar down the lane
Most time as much a scissor talk
Call for long legs and hair walk
A thing that happens all the time
To every pocket that has least a dim
The man change a hair one
With smile and happiness morning in line
A hair enters and 'voom' disappears
The man inside with hair on repairs
Our barbar down the lane
Is a man with no shame
My hair I dedicate to him
And mine is down with all vim
The everday I wish to enter
And embrass the comb in my hair
This then I know it him
The barbar down the lane
poem by Henry Nii Ayi Cobblah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aging Gracefully
You asked if I'd still love you if you lost all of your hair
Your baldness seems a tragedy: you want more fullness there.
It's strange the way we always wish for what we seem to lack
And anything that goes away is what we'd welcome back.
But hair-well that might be a different story all together
We grow it long or cut it short depening on the weather.
In time, it seems to him there's no such thing as too much hair
She spends her evenings waxing and goes shopping for more Nair.
It really is amusing as we old folks go to bed
She has too much; he has too little hair upon his head.
Perhaps a doctor may invent a way we all can win
By building him a grand toupee with hair plucked from her chin.
poem by Suzanne McNamee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted to Have a New Hair Style
I went to the barber this morning
To get a hair cut
Because my hair was too long
And I had decided
That I wanted to have a new hair style
I know it seems a little crazy
Maybe I lost my mind
Or I got a little carried away
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silently She's Combing
Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
poem by James Joyce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Respect Dude
No respect dude the teenager said
Unhappy with me for not honouring the war dead
But his idea of what is respect is quite different to mine
He has his opinions and that suits me fine.
The making of a young soldier in some future day
To fight in a war from his homeland far away
For by his own admission that is all he aspires for to be
The heroes to him are not heroes to me.
Perhaps of emulating his ancestor the teenager does dream
But those he sees as heroes are not mine it does seem
My heroes believe in live and let live
And any perceived wrongs of the past are happy to forgive.
No respect dude words from one quite young
Perhaps one day too his praises will be sung
And though he may not survive to march in the war parade
At his grave site the last post for him will be played.
My advice to no respect dude is live long as you can
And forget about war live to be an old man
And watch your great grandchildren in the children's playground play
For life is for living as some are known to say.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You know, if I tell the press that I like long blonde hair, the next day there will be girls with long hair wigs outside waiting for me.
Long hair dogs
Summer time is terrible
for dogs with long hair,
it makes them, very unbearable
they get to the point, they don't even care
Dogs with long hair
suffer more and long
they sometimes get cross as a bear,
and they can't wait, for fall to come on
Their so quite and still,
so hard is it,
for them to go up a hill
when bath time comes, they don't mind a bit
Sorrow
With your long blonde hair and your eyes of blue
The only thing I ever got from you was sorrow
Sorrow
You acted funny trying to spend my money
Youre out there playing your high class games of sorrow
Sorrow
You never do what you know you oughta
Something tells me youre a devils daughter
Sorrow, sorrow
Ahhhh, oo, oooo
I tried to find her
cause I cant resist her (I tried to find her)
I never knew just how much I missed her
Sorrow
Sorrow
With your long blonde hair and your eyes of blue
The only thing I ever got from you was sorrow
Sorrow
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, ho-ho
With your long blonde hair
I couldnt sleep last night
With your long blonde hair
Hu hu hu
Hu hu hu yeah
Hu hu hu
Hu hu hu yeah
Hu hu hu
Hu hu hu yeah
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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)
Stereotyped! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
You say you don’t know me
Nah you don’t know me
All you know I am, is a lil sh*t on the streets
With my hood up, giving people beats
Yeah I’m part of that youth culture
“I was much better behaved when I was younger”
Yeah, you were perfect in your day
At least that’s what you portray
But then I live in a stereotypical country
I’m stereotyped as a teen bully
But I’m not gonna happy slap you
Cos me being a nasty sh*t, that’s untrue!
I’m part of that youth culture
But it don’t mean I’m gonna hurt ya
Yeah I’m a teenager
But I don’t have that bad behaviour
So don’t label me as a bad youngster
Jus cos I’m a teenager!
Cos I know that’s what you assume
So think before you presume
poem by Becky Ginn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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