How Heavy Is Hair?
I Lost fifteen pounds
Over this past year…
but my pot gut and love handles
are still “hangin’ in there”
The only notable change
Is that my bald spot got bigger
And it’s really not strange
that my hair got thinner
So, it leaves me in
a state of confusion
And there’s clearly, only one
Question and obvious conclusion
The conclusion tis:
When in the mirror I stare…
that the big question is
… just how heavy is hair? …
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
His Answer To My Question Was A Question
His answer to my question
Was a question
My answer to his reply
Was returned
With another question
The game of
Answering and asking
Questions
Did not end
Till I questioned
The very motive
Of our conversation
We came to the conclusion
How to pass time?
Was the biggest question
Asking questions
And creating confusion
Was the answer
So we passed our time
Asking and answering questions
The question now is
Whether we did right or wrong?
The answer is
Why ask a useless question?
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I love my hair
I love my hair
I always toss it around in the air
As if without a care!
I love my hair
Once I caught the super hair bug
Caught it whilst I slept on an old rug
The super lice were playing scratch, scratch, and scratch
While my fingernails were playing catch, catch and catch
Finally my hair was shaven as there was no cure, no other drug
I wore my head on my shoulder for a while with a distasteful shrug
Hiding underneath a cap with obvious bald patches that seemed to match
I love my hair
Long, golden plaited and brown
Enough to move heads around in town
People just want to come near
And stare! Stare at me! Who is that alien from elsewhere?
My hair is beautifully plaited in strands
This kind of hair fashion is high in demand
So many different styles to experiment with and expand
Today a woman needs to look good, do you understand?
I talk to my hair with oils
I say today I need you to curl
And when I style you,
Stay in place, do not spoil!
I wash my hair twice a day
Maybe when I am old, it would go grey
But for now the beauty is here to stay
I hope so, I definitely pray!
Beware all, take care
I love my hair, I love my hair
Don’t touch! But you can stare
You can stare at how I wear
My beautiful hair!
Try and out-do me if you dare!
I love my hair
I like to show it off
Around me do not sneeze or cough
Or with you I can be horribly tough
Around me do not sneeze or cough
If you don’t want to know the meaning of rough
I mean it, this isn’t a bluff!
I love my hair!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One & One Make Five
(tennant/lowe)
-----------------
Have you heard the news?
Everybodys asking who
Is that man youve been seen with
And why Im never out with you
Please, tell me that you love me
Sort out this confusion
Say our love is still alive
For people must be jumping
To the wrong conclusion
That one and one make five
What I need right now
Is to hear you say they got it wrong
That hes just a new friend
A perfectly innocent one
So, tell me that you love me
Sort out this confusion
Say our love is still alive
For people must be jumping
To the wrong conclusion
That one and one make five
People are assuming
cause its so confusing
That one and one make five
If one and one make two (make two)
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
Dont need to worry about you
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
But here, where gossip and rumor thrive
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
One and one add up to three, four or five
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
One and one and one and one and one make five
(one and one make five)
Lets stay in tonight
Maybe disconnect the phone
The correct arithmetic
Just two of us at home
Oh, tell me that you love me
Sort out this confusion
Say our love is still alive
(one and one make five)
For people must be jumping
To the wrong conclusion
That one and one make five
(one and one make five)
Tell me that you love me
Sort out this confusion
Say our love is still alive
(one and one make five)
For people must be jumping
To the wrong conclusion
That one and one make five
(one and one make five)
One and one make two (make two, make two)
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
Dont need to worry about you
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
I dont need to worry about you
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
Dont need to worry about you
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
One and one make two (make two)
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
(here we go here we go here we go here we go
Here we go here we go here we go here we go)
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Went To The Mirror
In a voice soaked with euphoria:
I went to the mirror this morning
I looked in the mirror instead
The first thing to come into focus
Was a face wrapped all around my head
Theres something sticking out of the middle
I guess its my nose (I suppose)
I just dont recognize those eyes
All these years Ive been watching from the other side
The voice is now one of brutal stupefication. the underlying question is - if
You went crazy, would you know it?
Uh oh, here I go thinking them crazy thoughts again.
Who is that there? you mean I been walking around
In that all these years? whats it all about?
Wheres it all at? I dont want to get heavy but
What am I doing here? uh
My lip has a dark spot upon it
(the voice of a mature adult whos comprehensive
Capacity has suddenly been reduced to that of a
Cherrystone clam)
My teeth look like plastic in chips
And there on my chin I discover
One lonely red and arrogant zit
I went about my business this morning
You got to get out of bed and make that bread
But try as I may to get away
I wont forget what I seen in the mirror today
Boogie on out to a brand new day.
Get off your back and dance!
I seen my eyes. I seen my nose. my lips. my teeth.
My, my gums. I seen my gums! I looked all the way
Down my throat! I looked at my ears. I looked real
Hard at my ears. I looked at my hair. I think Im going
Bald. I had hair all over the sink or something...
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Logic vs Intuition
Premise:
All roses are flowers
Some flowers fade quickly
Some have stems smooth
Some have stems prickly
Conclusion: valid or not? (True of false)
Therefore: some roses fade quickly.
Don’t be too smug
Don’t answer to slickly
The conclusion like most
Can be answered too quickly
The correct logical conclusion
To most people is lost
For the answer in (intuitive confusion)
Is inherently and most logically… false
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is a Hair in the Bed
there is a hair in the bed
snagged in the sheet fibres
by the coil of its once braided curl
as long as the length
from finger tip to tip
as short as a sharp breath
there is a hair
there
between me
as dark as a polish winter
and you the colour
of dry summer skies
there is a hair in the bed
with a follicle bulb like a teardrop
and a sprout like a clipping
of conductive copper wire
the best part of six inches
of resistance
to my fat fingers
pinching
at the obvious question
why is there a hair
there
in the bed?
poem by Keith Valentine
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Boys never see a conclusion; only on the edge of the grave can man conclude anything; but the first impulse given to the boy is apt to lead or drive him for the rest of his life into conclusion after conclusion that he never dreamed of reaching.
quote by Henry Adams
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Best Way to Comb the Blonde Hair
Years is the worst unforgivable hairstylist
He cuts my hair short;
shorter than our short story..
He cuts my hair off;
off the last relationship..
Now it's 4 sharp in the afternoon,
i, wooden, seize the comb, wooden.
Mirror does not tell lies
age can only climb high.
the comb runs through my hair
my hair flows through somewhere
more strands of hair are gone..
more worries are born
I forget how I combed hair
back in those years..
A young blonde is coming..
and i gonna ask her this question.
poem by Garland Jodie Jeen
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Mirror Mirror
Mirror mirror
You tell lies
Who put crows feet
Round my eyes?
Mirror mirror
Hanging there
Who put that grey
In my hair?
Mirror mirror
Is that me
Is that really
Me I see?
Mirror Mirror
Stop your fun
That's not me
That is my mum
Mirror mirror
Don't stare back
For it's bad luck
If you should crack
Mirror mirror
On days like these
When what I see
Doesn't please
Mirror mirror
My mood this day
Will ask you turn
The other way!
poem by Stevie Taite
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Without blinking
Without blinking stare at an object
Tears roll and no question is there why.
On oily paper pens do not write
No question is there why.
Water through fissures not leaking
Ocean floor and there is no question why.
The question is there is no question to put why.
I am just obseving and observing
I can shot
The mute then show gut.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Skipover
Skip over
Not advisable
To reach conclusion.
In the conclusion
One may miss beauty.
Beauty lies in the eyes
Of the beholder though.
In this process
Joy pleasure sadness
Confusion awe fear
Disgust beauty and
Sublime evoked.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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So What Makes Desire Of All Kinds?
So what makes one desire
What is that which propagates interest
What makes us love to rest?
Or love to rise, love to run and love to walk?
What makes us love to talk?
How do you decide what you like?
Everyone is different, but how do we arrive
At the conclusion of what we like, or from what do we derive
Enjoyment, what makes it fun, why ride a bike?
Why play a video game, why take a nature hike?
What makes us like heat or cold
Or love to buy that is sold?
How do we decide our own interests?
What is it that I do to digress?
From reality- and the pervasive question
Why? this is my source of depression
Loss of identity, what do i like and why?
What makes me love the sky
At sunset, what makes it beautiful?
The final question i must ask is just
Just what is love? and makes us love?
Why do I love her, was it all a dream
What is love? ! Not what does it SEEM? !
poem by David Knox
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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
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The Obvious
Wake me from this altered state
My future's looking brighter all the time
I'm stumbling and delirious
Something's changed since those teenage days
I'm growing into my own
I'm the talk of the town
Looking strange and I'll say it out loud
There's nothing left to hide
When duplicating the obvious
And it's nothing we decide
Like you, like me
Twist my words so they reed me wrong
The truth was neevr good enough for you
Is that the best you can do?
Talk me down look in my face
Look at you now, feeling like the clown
Next time you should think it over
There's nothing left to hide
Nothing left to hide
When duplicating the obvious
When duplicating the obvious
And it's nothing we decide
Liek you, like me
With no reason, you twist my words
'Cause you're helpless lost in a state of madness
In a state of madness
In a state of madness
Lost in a state of madness
In a state of madness
In a state of madness
Lost in a state of madness
In a state of madness
Lost in a state of madness
Lost in a state of madness
song performed by by Orgy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's no question in my mind that it was C.I.A. sanctioned, and most - many Latin American investigators have come to the same conclusion. Of course, we never heard about that in our country.
quote by John Perkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unknown Sonata
If I keep on looking at the moon, between the pines;
Leaves of pine cut in halves the mystic light of it,
Sometimes my whole being trembles at this,
I worry because the ancient tree gives me red signals of separation.
Sometimes I think I am incapable of love,
I was never able to hold delicate things in my wretched hands,
leaves, smoke, promises, joys, yellow flowers and your hair my love;
I am incompetent in the life of love, a poor player in the race of love.
Do not forsake me my love, my trophy;
sometimes glance at me as if I am your mirror,
The only difference is that this mirror will shatter in a thousand pieces,
when you open your hair…
This Mirror is incapable of reflecting your beauty,
Accept this miserable mirror,
It is incapable because it cannot forget,
it cannot withstand you without turning to pieces.
poem by Sarang Mangi
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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
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Soul Mate
your legs do not make me
a waterfall,
your tongue do not make me
a river,
i am static as a rock
amidst this turmoil
i am a rope between two pillars
that do not snap out,
it is strange
i do not delight in that skin and
flesh,
it is over now, and i arrive at the
conclusion
i am not a vampire that needs
your blood
i am no dog to your bone,
i do not wish to taste anymore of
your flesh
it is not over yet
i still love what essence is there
i am looking for what you are not
to me
for all these years
i like you are air to my lungs
as memory to my mind,
i like the conclusion now
my soul wants to feel yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As Bald As My Boot (Fun Poem 79)
I woke up one morning
my hair all over the pillow
where my head should be.
I looked in the mirror
and was shocked at what confronted me.
My head was as bald as my boot.
My wife screamed, “We’ll have none of that! ”
She then started combing like mad
our poor old cat.
“I’m going to make you a toupee.”
Now whenever my hair gets wet
I start smelling like something
that popped out of a smelly old dustbin.
She never did say which end the hair came from,
the front or the rear.
I’ll leave you to guess that little bit of fun.
23 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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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)