Every gray hair on my head is because of Kinski.
quote by Werner Herzog
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
So I Have Become The Middle Man
So I have become the middle man
In this world
And I have so much gray hair on my head
That I don't like at all
I love blond hair
And I find it to be so attractive in men
But the truth is that I have that ugly gray hair
That God gave me
For a reason
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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)
Some Choose to Dye Quickly
It gets a little bit harder,
To expand upon one's tolerance...
As the hair begins to gray.
Growing older,
Sometimes isn't done with patience.
And the thrill of each day,
Comes when staying as far away...
From the sounds of nonsense.
Arriving at this stage of one's life,
Needs no definition...
Of what peace is like.
It gets a little bit harder,
To expand upon one's tolerance...
As the hair begins to gray.
Some choose to dye quickly,
Every sign of getting older.
With a permanence wished to sustain.
Hair, eyebrows, moustaches and beards.
Expecting Mother Nature from them to disappear.
As if no one recognizes...
Every movement done they do is slower.
And a once proud vision...
Is not as clear.
'Hey Pops!
Hold up your head.
Don't dropp that toupee.'
~Is that suppose to be funny?
Well,
It isn't.
You, you, you...
Whatever! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hello, Old man...
Hello, Old man, you’re hair is turning to gray,
Though it ought not cause me no surprise,
For there’s many a sun that you’ve seen rise and go down
Since your step was light and your hair was brown,
And storms and snows have had their way–
Hello, Old man, you’re hair is turning to gray,
And the youthful pranks that you used to play,
Are dreams of long ago lie in a heart where the fires burn low–
That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,
And spite of driving snow and storm,
Beats bravely on forever warm. December holds the place of May–
Hello, Old man, you’re hair is turning to gray,
Who cares what the carping’ youngsters say?
For, after all, when the tale is told,
Love proves if a man is young or old!
Old age can’t make the heart grow cold
When it does the will of an honest mind;
When it beats with love for all mankind;
Then the night but leads to a fairer day–
poem by Rey Sanidad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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People that are 40, they don't sit around at talk about gray hair and how it covers their hair. They talk about highlighting, of course they're covering gray, but they don't talk about it that way. They're going to get their colors because they need a little lightening.
quote by Andie MacDowell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Am A Human Head
I'm a human head
And my best friend is also a head
I don't really need my best friend
Now my friend is gone
And I'm only a head by myself
I find I don't need my whole head
Now I'm just the top of a head
Just the scalp and the hair
I don't like the scalp just the hair
What do I really need?
Best friend also a head
Just the head
Just a scalp
Hair
Friend
No
Head
No
Scalp
No
Hair
I am only one human hair
With no scalp for a home
All I need's the top of a head
Now all I am is just a scalp
I don't have any head
I'd be glad if I had a head
Now I have a head
Look at me
I'm a fine floating head
Where is my friend the other head?
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Entangled in Her Hair
Her hair
covers my face
she
kisses my mouth
kisses my kisses.
She chuckles.
I stroke her hair.
She sways &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my chest.
She
titillates a nipple
...it tickles.
I run my fingers
through her hair.
She sashays &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my navel
& there...&
there...abouts!
I…almost beside myself
neither...here...nor... there...
Lost in the anywhere
of an everywhere.
I clutch
her hair.
She shimmies &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my crotch.
She
licks it
into shape.
She
goes to say
something
it’s on
the tip of
her tongue.
But, she says nothing
only: “Mmmmm...! ”
& smiles
...smiles.
I close
my eyes.
My hands
entangled in
her hair.
*******
TREAD SOFTLY
We rest on the bed
your head rests against my head
sharing the same dream.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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The Goose-Girl
I WANDERED lonely by the sea,
As is my daily use,
I saw her drive across the lea
The gander and the goose.
The gander and the gray, gray goose,
She drove them all together;
Her cheeks were rose, her gold hair loose,
All in the wild gray weather.
'O dainty maid who drive the geese
Across the common wide,
Turn, turn your pretty back on these
And come and be my bride.
I am a poet from the town,
And, 'mid the ladies there,
There is not one would wear a crown
With half your charming air!'
She laughed, she shook her pretty head.
'I want no poet's hand;
Go read your fairy-books,' she said,
'For this is fairy-land.
My Prince comes riding o'er the leas;
He fitly comes to woo,
For I'm a Princess, and my geese
Were poets, once, like you!'
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Picture of a 23-year-old Youth Painted by His Friend of the Same Age, an Amature
He finished the painting yesterday noon. Now
he studies it in detail. He has painted him in a
gray unbuttoned coat, a deep gray; without
any vest or any tie. With a rose-colored shirt;
open at the collar, so something might be seen
also of the beauty of his chest, of his neck.
The right temple is almost entirely
covered by his hair, his beautiful hair
(parted in the manner he perfers it this year).
There is the completely voluptuous tone
he wanted to put into it when he was doing the eyes,
when he was doing the lips.... His mouth, the lips
that are made for consummation, for choice love-making.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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We grow gray in our spirit long before we grow gray in our hair.
quote by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For An Old Man (Baltimore 1968)
i saw an old man today
he was all of ninety years
gray hair and whiskers did grow
round his ears
i asked him why he penciled notes
upon a browning pad
i do it to pass the day, he said
to keep from being sad
was he the wiser of generations
are we the age he has been
or is he just the passing of time
and of bottled gin
i saw an old man today
he was all of ninety years
gray hair and whiskers
did shadow his lonely tears
(Copyright Steven S. Walsky 1968)
poem by Steven S. Walsky
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0004 M i n d
and mind might ask,
why then are brain cells gray? Is it
because the world is just
so wonderful, that they, stunned
and amazed, cannot decide
which colour to praise first?
(Mix all the colours of the paints,
and the result is gray.)
or is it because they feel themselves
so dull in comparison
with the miracle which is creation,
the miracle they (miracles themselves) , faithful, serve?
(Mix all the colours of the spectrum,
and the result is white.)
or is it, because they know
their work lies between ultimates
such as (do they themselves
call them this?) black,
and white? do they know
their work is equity –
to balance all things, so that gray is not gray
as we use gray for worldly metaphor; but
the gray of lakes at peace;
of silver that lives in itself,
needing no sun but its own innerness;
mercury that is moved but longs
to be united in a perfect sphere;
gray of clouds that know
the blessings that they hold;
and, the shining gray of mind -
for which gray hair is living metaphor,
the wisdom which life holds in store for you -
as how many poets, this moment round the world,
are joining new electric paths of thought between
these tiny, great gray worm-like cells which hide, compact,
their vast and inner space which spins out eager words
of metaphor, for that so nameless,
boundless, dazzling spectrum,
the radiant space of self?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will You Love Me In December As You Do In May
Now, in the summer of life, sweetheart
You say you love but me
Gladly I give all my heart to you
Throbbing with ecstasy
But last night I saw, while a-dreaming
, the future old and gray,
And I wondered if youll love me then, dear
Just as you do today?
Will you love me in december as you do in may?
Will you love me in the good old-fashioned way?
When my hair has all turned gray,
Will you kiss me then and say,
That you love me in december as you do in may?
You say the glow on my cheek, sweetheart
Is like the rose so sweet
But when the bloom of fair youth has flown
Then will our lips still meet?
When lifes setting sun fades away, dear,
And all is said and done,
Will you arms still entwine and caress me?
Will our hearts beat as one?
Will you love me in december as you do in may?
Will you love me in the good old-fashioned way?
When my hair has all turned gray,
Will you kiss me then and say,
That you love me in december as you do in may?
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Growin' Gray
HELLO, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray,
An' it beats ole Ned to see the way
'At the crow's feet's a-getherin' aroun' yore eyes;
Tho' it oughtn't to cause me no su'prise,
Fur there's many a sun 'at you've seen rise
An' many a one you've seen go down
Sence yore step was light an' yore hair was brown,
An' storms an' snows have had their way—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray,
An' the youthful pranks 'at you used to play
Are dreams of a far past long ago
That lie in a heart where the fires burn low—
That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,
An' spite of drivin' snow an' storm,
Beats bravely on forever warm.
December holds the place of May—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray.
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray —
Who cares what the carpin' youngsters say?
For, after all, when the tale is told,
Love proves if a man is young or old!
Old age can't make the heart grow cold
When it does the will of an honest mind;
When it beats with love fur all mankind;
Then the night but leads to a fairer day—
Hello, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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I've tried doing so, for it was never my intention to paint only with gray. But in the course of my work I have eliminated one color after another, and what has remained is gray, gray, gray!
quote by Alberto Giacometti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evil Woman
Patrick simmons
Well, the lights turnin gray, nearly every day
Come a walkin into town and try to find the way
Well, Ive only got a nickel, got to score myself a dime
And try to make it til tomorrow, buy a little more time
Evil woman, evil woman
Evil woman
Well, my damsel shes a woman with coal black hair
Dont you look her in her eye when she starts to stare
cause her beauty drive you crazy
And her potions steal your soul
No matter how you beg her she dont ever let you go
Well, you can cry, you can plead
It wont help you none
Shell keep you in the shadows, never see the sun
Try to run, try to hide
Find a place to stay
No matter where you go you cant get away
Evil woman, evil woman
Evil woman, oh
For evil woman set my life free
I cant go on livin this way, no
Evil woman set my life free
Pullin me down, down
I cant go on this way
Down, down my head will go against the floor again
Down, down my head will go against the floor again
Down, down I cant go on this way
Down, down my head will go again
Down, down I cant go on this way
Down, down my head will go again
Down, down I cant go on this way
Down, down my head will go again
Down, down I cant go on this way
Down, down, down
Well, the lights turnin gray
Nearly evry day
Come a walkin into town
Try to find my way
I said I only got a nickel
Got to score myself a dime
Try to make it til tomorrow
Buy a little more time
My damsel shes a woman with coal black hair
Dont you look her in her eye when she starts to stare
cause her beauty drive you crazy
And her potions steal your soul
No matter how you beg her she dont ever let you go
Evil woman, evil woman
Evil woman
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Musing
Its December. Another year is just about over.
Standing in front of a mirror in a bathroom
Is a man. He gazes into the face looking back at him,
Combs his white hair with his fingers and then begins to muse:
My hair it seems is always whiter during
The winter months. It really isn’t
But seeing hair already gray, aging
Becomes a prime concern. My life, a glint
In darkness; insignificant footprints in time
Is always struggling forward, nearing some
Unreachable ideal, lacking rhyme
Or reason. Now I ponder life's outcome
This cold December, standing here alone
In front of glass. The image looking back
Is old! My God! Is youth that fleeting? Prone
Toward dependency, asthma attacks
And wooden canes? He winks and shakes his head
And smiles, then says, ” I’d sooner be old than dead.”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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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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Fun? There is no fun.
quote by Klaus Kinski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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