An Average
I ne'er could be entirely fond
Of any maiden who's a blonde,
And no brunette that e'er I saw
Had charms my heart's whole
warmth to draw.
Yet sure no girl was ever made
Just half of light and half of shade.
And so, this happy mean to get,
I love a blonde and a brunette.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Related quotes
When I first met my agent, I said, If something comes up and it fits my age range and personality, I would like you to send me up for it, even if it specifies blonde or brunette.
quote by Tia Carrere
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As a brunette, I had previously been this serious actress. Then I became a blonde and got to play a completely different, comic role.
quote by Loni Anderson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Suicide Blonde
(a farriss & m hutchence)
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Was the colour of her hair
Like a cheap distraction
For a new affair
She knew it would finish
Before it began
Something tells me you lost the plan
Chorus
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
She stripped to the beat
But her clothes stay on
White light everywhere
But you cant see a thing
Such a squeeze
A mad sad moment
Glory to you
Glory to you
Take me there
Take me there
Got some revelation
Put into your hands
Save you from your misery
Like rain across the land
Dont you see
The colour of deception
Turning your world around again
Chorus
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tired Of Being Blonde
(l. raspberry)
She left the credit cards under her goodbye note
all of these are yours, goodbye? and that was all she wrote
Keys to the porsche she dropped on the floor in the den
Left in the ? 0 dodge that he drove her in
She wasnt angry, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of running around with the usual guys and gals
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living up to all he expected
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of letting her dreams go neglected
She used to love to know she rounded out his world
She used to love to be all he ever loved in a girl
He liked to buy her clothes that made her sexy and cute
Guess she decided shed been too long away from her roots
She wasnt crazy, she wasnt mad
She just knew in her heart they had drained her of all that she had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of all the platinum frustration
Tired of being blonde
Tired of looking like a cutie on the cover of a magazine
Tired of being blonde
Tired of chasing all the latest sensations
She wasnt angry, no, no, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
She was tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of coping with the desperation
Tired of being blonde
Tired of fighting back the feeling inside that told her to run
Tired of being blonde
Tired of hiding her own inclinations
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wooden Doll And The Wax Doll
THERE were two friends, a very charming pair,
Brunette the brown, and Blanchidine the fair;
And she to love Brunette did constantly incline,
Nor less did Brunette love sweet Blanchidine.
Brunette in dress was neat, yet always plain;
But Blanchidine of finery was vain.
Now Blanchidine a new acquaintance made–
A little girl most sumptuously array'd,
In plumes and ribbons, gaudy to behold,
And India frock, with spots of shining gold.
Said Blanchidine, 'A girl so richly dress'd,
Should surely be by every one caress'd.
To play with me, if she will condescend,
Henceforth 'tis she alone shall be my friend. '
And so for this new friend in silks adorn'd,
Her poor Brunette was slighted, left, and scorn'd.
Of Blanchidine's vast stock of pretty toys,
A wooden doll her every thought employs,
Its neck so white, so smooth, its cheeks so red–
She kiss'd, she fondled, and she took to bed.
Mamma now brought her home a doll of wax,
Its hair in ringlets white, and soft as flax;
Its eyes could open and its eyes could shut;
And on it, too, with taste its clothes were put.
'My dear wax doll!' sweet Blanchidine would cry–
Her doll of wood was thrown neglected by.
One summer's day, 'twas in the month of June,
The sun blazed out all in the heat of noon:
'My waxen doll,' she cried, 'my dear, my charmer!
What, are you cold? but you shall soon be warmer.'
She laid it in the sun–misfortune dire!
The wax ran down as if before the fire!
Each beauteous feature quickly disappear'd,
And melting, left a blank all soil'd and smear'd.
Her doll disfigured, she beheld amazed,
And thus express'd her sorrow as she gazed:
'Is it for you my heart I have estranged
From that I fondly loved, which has not changed?
Just so may change my new acquaintance fine,
For whom I left Brunette, that friend of mine.
No more by outside show will I be lured;
Of such capricious whims I think I'm cured:
To plain old friends my heart shall still be true,
Nor change for every face because 'tis new. '
Her slighted wooden doll resumed its charms,
And wronged Brunette she clasp'd within her arms.
poem by Ann Taylor
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You can sleep with a blonde, you can sleep with a brunette, but you'll never get any sleep with a redhead!
quote by Jamie Luner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm a natural blonde, but I feel like a brunette. I feel like people treat me now how I should be treated. People used to be shocked, when I was blond, that I wasn't stupid.
quote by Olivia Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man called DUD
There was a man called 'DUD'
Who thought himself a 'stud'
Infact he tried so hard
He quiffed his locks with lard
Unclipped a button from his shrt
Bore his hairy chest and tried to flirt
He sought a younger blonde/ brunette
Twenty somethings in a skirt
With his think lens he scanned the lonely hearts
And dyed his hair mexican red
And pencilled in a dark moustache
Above a top lip quiver
He swaggered in low slug 'ELVIS jeans'
In dark saloons
That made him shiver
He drank a pint or two alone
[he Had problems with his liver]
And caught a taxi home, alone
But still dud fought to be
The 'Great stud of the nation'
[Though he had problems with his circulation]
His jeans were unsightly and far too tight
He got a restless leg half way through the night
He tried so hard to join the party
But after one athritic dance
He was reaching for his wooly cardie
Then flattered by a young girl who began,
'Now here's the man, he'd make a perfect a partner for my
GRAN! '
Yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Quest For Beauty
I searched for beauty high and low
As if it were my quest,
For deep inside, I had to know,
Who really was the best?
Brunette or blonde, short hair or long?
Tomboy or catwalk queen?
From Honolulu or Hong Kong
Or somewhere inbetween?
Celebrities are often thought
To be ten out of ten...
For these, big diamond rings are bought
By fascinated men!
Some girls have smiles that light a room!
Love follows them around!
They're like red roses in full bloom,
Yet few of these I've found!
The girls I've loved caused joy and pain,
Both in equal measure,
Yet if I had my time again,
Each of these I'd treasure.
Of all my loves, who was the best?
Was she the first or last?
I only know God blessed my quest,
Except time's gone so fast!
True beauty lives in memories
And hopes of what could be -
Enough to fill eternities
Beyond this world we see.
For now, I'll only dream of you,
The girl that I adore!
If you love me, my quest is through...
No man could ask for more...
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Colorado Girl
A Colorado girl captures my eye,
Such a beauty I have come by.
Eyes as blue as the lovely sea,
Hair as blonde as blonde can be.
I wish I knew this Colorado girl,
Who knows what emotions we could unfurl.
If only I could hear her voice,
That alone would make me rejoice.
A Colorado girl too far away,
A distance that leaves me in utter dismay.
If only she could hear my plea,
For love that may forever never be.
poem by Adam McKim
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She Was White Blonde
She was white blonde,
her eyes sometimes bright sky-blue,
she was white blonde,
with a foot right next to the abyss
when I held her tightly against me,
and for the first time really noticed her well,
she was white blonde…
poem by Gert Strydom
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Looking for Love
We married when we were just nineteen,
I thought her a perfect catch,
We'd fallen in love on the day she came
To watch, at a football match,
I'd fallen badly, injured my leg
And was subbed in the second half,
She came to the dressing room, and tied
My leg with her silken scarf.
She said that she was a trainee nurse
And practice was better than none,
I told her I was a graduate,
I'd be limping from now on,
We took a seat at a coffee shop
And stayed for the afternoon,
As I gazed at her dark brown eyes and hair,
And she smiled at me in the gloom.
Our romance whirled us on at a pace
That was breathless, with content,
Whatever our fate would hold for us
We were sure that it was meant,
I ceased to notice the other girls,
And she looked only at me,
We tied the knot on a fresh Spring morn
As we stood by a willow tree.
We made our home in a city flat
Close to her hospital,
I studied and crammed for my Ph.D.
Not counting the cost at all,
But soon we were way behind in the rent
And moved on out to the burbs,
Life was more difficult than we'd thought,
We grew our own veggies, and herbs.
She worked three shifts, and came home tired,
And I would study all night,
Then one came in as the other went out,
I felt that it wasn't right,
We argued then, and we made it up,
Then we argued a little more,
She said she'd go to her parents then,
But I just barred the door.
We'll just have to work it out, ' I said,
'We can't go giving up now,
I know that I love you, Sylvia,
And things will improve, somehow.'
'I love you too, but it's such a mess, '
She cried, and dabbed at her tears,
'There's not enough money to buy a house
And there won't be, not for years.'
I shelved my studies, applied for a job,
The money was not very good,
I'd studied for years, and there was I
In a sawmill, cutting wood.
I suddenly felt resentful then
To be wed to a low-paid nurse,
She'd lost that spark in her eyes that said
I love you, better or worse.
We slowly drifted apart, she'd work
An extra shift when she could,
While I would prowl in the nightclubs
Where the folk were up to no good.
I drank a lot, got bleary eyed,
Came home, hung-over and grim,
While Sylvie began to ignore me,
Often went out as I came in.
One night at a Club, I saw a girl
Blonde hair and the bluest eyes,
Dolled up in a mini skirt so short
It attracted all the guys,
She danced and shimmied around the room
And giggled and seemed like fun,
She made me think of my Sylvie
Now that the spark and the fun had gone.
Each Wednesday night I saw this girl,
But she never looked at me,
I grew obsessed as I followed her,
It compounded my misery.
I'd get up close and she'd whirl away
And dance with another guy,
I'd like to have gone and talked to her
But I guess I was feeling shy.
For weeks I had tried, got close to her
But then couldn't squeeze out a word,
I felt myself falling in love again
But knew that was quite absurd,
For Sylvie was there at the back of my mind,
I couldn't quite block her out,
But then when the blonde whirled past again
My heart would jump into my mouth.
There came the day that I followed her home,
She lived in the burbs, like me,
We both caught the number seventeen
Though she was ahead of me,
I sat at the back and hid myself,
We came to my usual stop,
Then to my surprise, the blonde stood up
Walked down the aisle and got off.
I wasn't that far behind her then
But she hurried away, and ran,
I thought it strange, and increased my pace
But she left me behind at the Strand.
She turned the corner, into my street
But then she had disappeared,
My heart was pounding, I almost ran...
Could it be what I really feared?
I walked unsteadily into the house,
But stopped at the kitchen door,
For there was Sylvie, a wig in her hand
A blonde that I'd seen before,
She grinned at me, popped her contacts out
And said, 'Hi, where have you been? '
Then laughed, and I saw my Sylvie again
As I'd seen her at just nineteen.
We made the most passionate, frantic love
With her blonde wig back in place,
'I thought that I'd teach you a lesson, ' she said,
With a sly look on her face.
And since that day I've been cured of straying,
Each time she comes through the door,
She's a blonde, brunette, a redhead yet...
What red-blooded man could want more?
8 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Dumb Blonde-It Seems True
People call me a dumb blonde
sometimes it seems true
i trip over my own feet
and i cant find the answer to an easy math problem
can the color of your hair change how you act?
if its true ill dye my hair pink
green
red
blue
silver
anything but blonde!
i love how it looks but i dont wanna be stupid!
Dumb Blonde?
I guess so
poem by Izzy Barnwell
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Half The World
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway
Half the world lives
Half the world makes
Half the world gives
While the other half takes
Half the world is
Half the world was
Half the world thinks
While the other half does
Half the world talks
With half a mind on what they say
Half the world walks
With half a mind to run away
Half the world lies
Half the world learns
Half the world flies
As half the world turns
Half the world cries
Half the world laughs
Half the world tries
To be the other half
Half of us divided like a torn-up photograph half of us are
Trying to reach the other half
Half the world cares
While half the world is wasting the day
Half the world shares
While half the world is stealing away
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Girl....
I see her walk down the halls everyday
The girl with the dirty blonde hair with black streaks
Her blonde hair cascading down her back like a golden waterfall
The innocent sparkle of those gorgeous pale green eyes
Her strawberry lips make her lovely words drift in my head
But the only thing I know is she's that girl......
Even though I have no idea who she is she's still beautiful
Oh I know who she is now.....shes me from 4 years ago
But to me she'll forever be that girl.....
poem by Justina Nicole Haner
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Blonde On Blonde
Cats and dogs are coming down
14th street is gonna drown
Everyone else rushing round
Ive got blonde on blonde
On my portable stereo
Its a lullabye
From a giant golden radio
Ive got no time i wanna lose
To people with something to prove
What can you do but let them walk
And make your way down the block
Ive got blonde on blonde
On my portable stereo
Its a lullabye
From a giant golden radio
Its a lullabye
From wonder-womans radio
song performed by by Nada Surf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
Love Blonde
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Somethings coming down the street
Something static under your feet
Never looking left or right
coz shell just blow you out of sight
Shes never waiting on your smile
Devastating, whats in her style ?
Situation no-go zone
But shell cut loose when shes alone
Chorus:
Shes a love blonde
Shes a love blonde
Shes a love blonde
Shes got that sensuality for love
When the boys say how you been
What you doin, can we get in ?
Eyesll flash and lips will smile
And shell just tease them for a while
coz now you see her, now you dont
You could be there, only you wont
If youve got that savoir faire
Well that girl knows and shes aware
Chorus
Oooh, well if she fills your dreams tonight
Oooh, just lay back and hold on tight
Chorus
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whos The Blonde Stranger
Whos the blonde stranger
By: jimmy buffett, michael utley, will jennings, josh leo
1984
Nothin like this way out in west texas
Galveston bay is a whole other world
My wifes in our room gettin over her sunburn
How would louis lamour get me next to that girl
She tells me her tan is the same all over
She asks me to dance and says keep your boots on
She never met a number one cowboy
We rolled in the sand and drank rum until dawn
Chorus:
Whos the blonde stranger, who entered my life
Makin me over, in the moonlight
This side of texas, is all new to me
Whos the blonde stranger, who lives by the sea
Stayed up all night and for me thats the first time
Sneak in the room just as cool as I can
Pull back the sheets and the bed is all empty
Except for a note left from some guy named dan
My head got all light and the room started spinning
I stepped outside just to get some fresh air
Out on a wave was my own darlin lola
And some pretty boy with bleach in his hair
Chorus:
Whos the blonde stranger, out there with my wife
What were they doin, in the moonlight
This side of texas, is all new to me
Who are these strangers, who live by the sea
Back on the ranch and everythings normal
Beach blanket bingo comes on the tv
We talk in our sleep and then the next morning
I ask her whos dan and she says whos marie?
Chorus:
Whos the blonde stranger, who entered my life
Makin me over, in the moonlight
This side of texas, is all new to me
Whos the blonde stranger, lives by the sea
Chorus:
Whos the blonde stranger, who entered my life
Makin me over, in the moonlight
This side of texas, is all new to me
Who are these strangers, who live by the sea
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Woman Called
A woman called for you today said Max’s wife.
Oh said Max who was she?
She didn’t say Max’s wife replied.
Well dames that don’t leave names
Aren’t worth worry over Max said
Lighting up a cigarette and sitting
In a chair by the window.
She seemed to know you Max’s wife stated stiffly
Seemed quite put out when I told her I was your wife.
Dames are always put out over something or other
Max said noticing his wife’s beauty spot
And how it moved as she spoke.
She was a brunette.
Ah a brunette huh?
Yes a brunette his wife said.
Well? She said after a minute’s pause.
New York’s full of brunettes.
This one came to the apartment and rang our bell
And stood at the door asking for Max.
There are plenty of men called Max in New York Honey he said
Comparing in his mind his wife and the brunette
He’d met at a bar the other night.
She seemed your type his wife said sulkily
The type that sways her hips and sticks out their ass.
Yes I know the type Max said and sighed
They can never leave me alone.
I tell them I am happily married to the best dame in New York
But they seem not to hear Max said
Watching smoke rise upwards.
Best dame in New York huh? His wife said.
Sure you are he said taking in his wife’s plump ass
Hanging over the side of the chair like melted cheese.
She smiled and said must have been a mistake
On her part coming here and asking for Max.
Sure it was Max said dames sometimes make mistakes
They have no sense of direction.
His wife smiled at him sexily hoping.
Max smiled back and hoped for erection.
poem by Terry Collett
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