I turned my hair dark and have received much better parts ever since.
quote by Joan Bennett

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother's Hair Has Turned To Silver
Mother's hair has turned to silver
Her skin is all wrinkled and cold
But i'd never trade my mother
For the world and all its gold. Yes her hair has turned to silver
Her face is all covered with lines
But there'll never be another
Like this gray haired mother of mine. I think of all the hardships
I have caused her to bare
Then I can see the reasons
For the silver in her hair. Mother's hair has turned to silver
And her hard working days are done
But there's still a smile on her face
And a love for everyone.
poem by Kenneth Rickard

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the Self
the self is a mountain
you can go exploring
some parts are not reachable
and some parts so riveting
you just wish to sing them songs
some parts are caves you can shout
and hear your own echoes
some parts are a make belief
haunted house you can frighten yourself with
some parts are chambers of
mysteries you can get lost on your own
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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To Lady Jane
Romance was always young.
You come today
Just eight years old
With marvellous dark hair.
Younger than Dante found you
When you turned
His heart into the way
That found the heavenly stair.
Perhaps we must be strangers.
I confess
My soul this hour is Dante's,
And your care
Should be for dolls
Whose painted hands caress
Your marvellous dark hair.
Romance, with moonflower face
And morning eyes,
And lips whose thread of scarlet prophesies
The canticles of a coming king unknown,
Remember, when you join him
On his throne,
Even me, your far off troubadour,
And wear
For me some trifling rose
Beneath your veil,
Dying a royal death,
Happy and pale,
Choked by the passion,
The wonder and the snare,
The glory and despair
That still will haunt and own
Your marvellous dark hair.
poem by Vachel Lindsay

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The Parts In Relation To The Whole
the parts in relation to the whole are hard to muster
i get lost somehow
confused on this seemingly unrelated part to another part
like seeing the legs of this millipede
when it would have been easier to think of it
as a worm,
i remember being lost in a forest of trees
wild growing trees where i can no longer figure out the shape
of a single leaf
because it is too dark
and damp
too many little things, too many details, that hinder us
from grasping the wholeness of
things
and people and daily events,
i get tired of all these, parts and parts and parts and some more
miniatures of parts, a letter to the word,
speaking in cut phrases
how can i ever understand this and that?
show me the whole
be whole to me as i am whole to you
touch the parts later
relate it always to me
this love is whole, it was never meant to be chopped
like some garlic and onions
this love is an apple that you see and pick from the tree
take it first
in its appleness, then start to bite
every part is sweet, every part is me,
this love
this me, this whole world is me
it must be first to you
then love becomes us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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A formalist
In coat and tie
Black suit
Well arranged hair
Well cut
Well suited
No air must come
To disarrange
Some hair
Or other parts of
Him,
He is stiff
He is stuffed
He is
A perfect gentleman
How can he ever
Dance this
Hip-hop
Of life?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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When I was in my early 20s, I had my hair permed. Bad idea! It turned into total frizz. My advice to women is, if you have nice hair already, don't get a perm, leave your hair alone!
quote by Mariska Hargitay

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Country Is Like A Body
When one part sick
All parts look unhealthy
When one part missing
All parts get the impact
When one part is weak
Do other parts only blame and not help to fix it?
When one part is failed
Do other parts only let it fall and not support it?
Even it is often forgotten
It doesn't mean it is not important
Even it is always underestimated
It doesn't mean it could completely be ignored
One part may be incapable
But it doesn't mean all parts can do nothing
One part may be invalid
But it doesn't mean all parts should also give up the spirit
In some incredible moment they are working together
In some unseen place they don't stop to struggle
It may be hard but always raises up the hope
It may be small change but always look forward
poem by Maria Sudibyo

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Know who you are?
Do you know who you are? Do you?
perhaps you only think you do.
Can you accept that just maybe
you could have faults you cannot see.
Are you afraid that you might be
far different from the way you see
yourself? The darker parts of you.
you do not put on public view.
We all have something which we hide.
Some deep dark secret locked inside.
We all have traits we would disown.
If it were possible to do.
You must accept they’re parts of you.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg

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She Parts Song
She parts from me
Everyday
About this time
Because she is afraid of the dark
And she hates to walk in the dark
poem by Aldo Kraas

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I don't come in parts
I DON'T cOME IN PARTS
I
Can't
Give
You
Ha lf
Of
Me.
Because
I
Don't
CoM e
In
Parts! ! ! ! ! !
So if any resason that I don't fit in your plan of a whole, by all means walk and it will be easy for the both of us, because I DON'T COME IN PARTS.
poem by Clarence Williams

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Late
Because I felt like being hypnotized
I turned the TV on, sat down,
and drank a beer in the dark
and watched all that rigged mumbo-jumbo;
but when I felt like thinking my own thoughts again
I turned the TV off and left
the now blank screen where in
it the belonged dark.
poem by Morgan Michaels

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The writing of good limericks you see
requires two parts insanitee -
two parts rhythyme
and three parts rhyme.
With that, you'll master the art completelee.
quote by by Otido Omukuba

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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For arousal
Females arouse males by their private parts
in all mammals, the parts well decked out.
In women they are hidden and buried.
Men sought their other parts for arousal.
23.09.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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Who Me?
I am some days
my Best Me
others
I've been submerged
by that Other Me.
Some days
I am fun and funny
others I don that cloak
of sadness,
eat gobs of pity pie
and flagons of dark sorrow.
Other days
I am ethereal,
days lost to bad
or absent memory-
foggy hours
on end some times-
and
as in a dream vision
I arrive back
on Planet Mine
wondering
where I have been.
Some days
the weariness
of not being able to count
on Me-Steady;
feeling burdened
where I long to wring
from my life
the Drama Foam
which fuzzes up
the clarity I need
to connect all of the
aspects of me
into one coherent whole.
I have some parts
I cannot mend
and I have my fear
that if
the good me
touches the bad
me
all I will have left
are the bad parts.
So I keep them separated
from each and me.
But you know
it's only me fearing
my friends tell me'
while there is this battle on
for sure;
that the good parts of me
are so very strong
those are the parts
they are putting their money on.
I guess it true;
I do
like most of me
enough
to write this to you.
Love
Anita.
Root for me.
poem by Lonnie Hicks

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Pulling myself together for M'lady Ann Beard
In dreams I can communicate
with disparate parts of me.
I’m learning to appreciate.
The frightening complexity
Of the different parts of me.
Which I must balance constantly
A task I must face every day
so they combine to make me, me..
I am a father and a son.
I am a brother and a friend.
The endless list goes on and on.
It seems as though it has no end.
Somehow I manage to control
at least the parts on public view.
The scattered parts which make the whole
But still conceal a thing or two.
The parts of me I need to change.
I’m sure I can do given time.
Some parts of me are weird and strange.
Like creatures from an earlier time.
The Id tries to assert its will.
The ego sure to disagree.
The super ego bids them both be still.
I just accept they’re part of me.
When other people look at me.
I wonder if they wonder too
If they can see reality.
I am not certain that I do.
Wednesday,02 December 2009
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg

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True Story
they found him walking along the freeway
all red in
front
he had taken a rusty tin can
and cut off his sexual
machinery
as if to say --
see what you've done to
me? you might as well have the
rest.
and he put part of him
in one pocket and
part of him in
another
and that's how they found him,
walking
along.
they gave him over to the
doctors
who tried to sew the parts
back
on
but the parts were
quite contented
the way they
were.
I think sometimes of all of the good
ass
turned over to the
monsters of the
world.
maybe it was his protest against
this or
his protest
against
everything.
a one man
Freedom March
that never squeezed in
between
the concert reviews and the
baseball
scores.
God, or somebody,
bless
him.
Submitted by .eve.
poem by Charles Bukowski

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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

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Grotto Story
I am found
in the Story Grotto
with millions of others
grappling with a tale
to tell;
holding it
in the dull light
hoping for a clue
to it,
wrestling it to the grotto ground
trying to understand it.
I and it
merge too much;
I am much more than my Story
yet
now
it is all I have.
I draw blinds over parts of it
can't bear to see aspects of it;
sad sad visions there.
There are lighter moments, of course,
but not enough to light the grotto.
I grapple with my Story
good parts and bad;
trying wring from it
emotion juice
wring it all out,
neuter it
so I can leave
its bloodless hulk
on the grotto floor
and go back
out into
the
sunlight.
I am not my Story alone
and should not let my life
leave me alone
with it
in
the
dark
dark
grotto.
poem by Lonnie Hicks

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The day I met you was a bad hair day
The day i met you was a bad hair day. This one piece of hair just wouldn't stay. You must have noticed, you must have seen. You were just a little distant, your mind in another place I could see it in your face. So after we talked for a while you excused yourself with a pleasent smile. But what would have happened if my hair had looked good? Would we have talked longer flirted more? We could have shared a night of fun but instead you turned away, It's scary to think that my feature could lay, on one piece of hair that just wouldn't stay.
-Author Unknown
poem by Thang Boojie

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If You But Want Me Too
If you but want me too
I will shelter you...
If you but desire me too
I shall lie alongside you...
You can stir beside me!
And I shall be aroused beside you!
If it's but within your soul
If it's but too within my heart
I'll stumble on your love in the dark
I'll unearth its ebony residence
And together we'll turn that key
And open the loneliest parts of you
In the most isolated parts of me.
And together in our hearts
We'll reside like the sun and rain
Like fire and ice
Like oil and water
But in a complementary role
Like night and day
Like Adam and Eve
You will be the truest measurement
The truest part of me as only
Opposites can be.
poem by Mark Heathcote

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