Where the Real Man is
mirror, the man looks
and arranges his hair
looks, and arranges his hair
a flood of admiration
seizes his emotion
the real man lies between
the time he looks, and
arranges his hair
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
You may be a realist
You may be a realist,
who have got her life firmly in control
and as a romantic, I am
striving for a much better world
but somehow you understand me
to the depths of my existing
and your loving, your respect
is a very precious thing
and even if destiny arranges things,
arranges every day, in how we live and play
you are the one, who brings meaning to everything,
the one that brings meaning to who I really am.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Something To Live For
(hymas / brown)
Weve seen so many towns
Where the trains dont ever stop
Though we hear all night sounds
Theres no side left to the shop
Nothing but changes of face
That life arranges
Nothing but strangeness that wastes
Anything it replaces
Weve seen so many dreams
Floating out into the tide
Theyre never what they seem
And theres emptiness inside
Nothing but changes of face
That life arranges
Nothing but strangeness that wastes
Anything it replaces
Keep pushing tomorrow
You might just find
Something to live for
Keep hustling tomorrow
You might just find
That elusive something
Weve got so many ways
To take the world apart
And almost no one stays
If they make it from the start
Nothing but changes of face
That life arranges
Nothing but strangeness that wastes
Anything it replaces
Keep pushing tomorrow
You might just find
Something to live for
Keep hustling tomorrow
You might just find
Something to live for
Keep pushing tomorrow
You might just find
Something to live for
Keep hustling tomorrow
Until you find that elusive something
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Those Magic Changes
Whats that playing on the radio?
Why do I start swaying to and fro?
I have never heard that song before
But if I dont hear it anymore
Still familiar to me sends a thrill right to me
Plus those chords remind me of the night that I first fell in
Love to
Those magic changes
My heart arranges
A melody thats never the same
A melody thats calling your name
And betcha please come back to me
Please return to me
Dont go away again or make them play again
The music I want to hear at once again
You whisper in my ear oh my darling
Ill be waiting by the radio
Youll come back to me some day I know
Been so long since our last goodbye
But Im singing as I cry
While the bass is sounding while the drums are pounding
Beating of my broken heart will rise to first place in the
Charts
Oh my heart arranges
Oh those magic changes
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Sleepy
What sleep arranges us can be the one,
The one that meant how special to thicken.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A nation creates music - the composer only arranges it.
quote by Mikhail Glinka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The guy that just arranges things so that the stock market holds up is nobody in my - in my estimation.
quote by James Stockdale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Creativity And Illusions...
in the most noisy world
you can close your ears
and the sights you see
can have your own music from your soul
you can choose
what to hear and you can also pretend about what to see
or feel
you started doing this a long time ago
on that day when the birds of dawn broke their wings
when the light from the moon bent a little to have the illusion
of quiet, too early to learn
how is it to be a dove amidst the bats
how is it to be a lamb around the foxes
the world since then has become one big square
and then you create a scene: a green river flowing inside the forest
singing like a maiden
nude as she arranges her black hair
long enough to cover her breasts... and then
you place a man along the banks
paddling a boat towards her nipples
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A precise woman
A precise woman, something of a control freak
with hair cropped short, reminds me
of the military
brings order to my life and thoughts
while she arranges everything
putting shining shoes in their place,
panties, pantyhose, brassieres shelved
in neat rows
in a easy accessible way
and even when we make love
her behaviour is predictable
from the removing of her stockings,
where she folds them,
the look in her eyes
and her whimpers and cries
and yet somehow
there is something sweet in the loving,
in the order that she brings.
[Reference: A Precise Woman by Yehuda Amichai.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Haircut
I have wooly, wavy, woozy silvery hair
Cut just 20% you earn your fare
In bad trim down
Make sure I won't look like a clown.
With white cover she cuts away,
Her scissors, snip, snip night and day.
In mirror see my hair disappear
Trimmed nicely above each ear.
Finally touched my hair—few curls,
The more she accommodates I would adore.
Finish look seems more like 30% gone,
Hair wetted, scalped, I mirror no fun.
Next time another barber or good cutter
Better not scalp me" I sadly angry mutter
For well-kept hair on head?
I'd rather make more love in bed.
poem by Arthur Weil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is necessary for him who lays out a state and arranges laws for it to presuppose that all men are evil and that they are always going to act according to the wickedness of their spirits whenever they have free scope.
quote by Niccolo Machiavelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully.
quote by William C. Bryant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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)
My sister’s fate
A man comes
To our house
To take my sister’s hands
Grandma meets him
Leads him from the floor
To the stairs
Then for a talk in the
Living room
Brings him to the
Dining room for
Light snacks
While sister arranges
Some flowers in the vase,
Grandpa stares at him
From the tip of his hair
To the tip of his toe,
And then sister and him
Have a sweet talk
On sweet nothings
Just like any lover
After a while,
He is excused
As it is dark
And grandma and
Grandpa have their
Own kind of talk,
And then tells sister,
“He is no good,
We have seen his eyes
And his footsteps
Drop him”.
But her heart beats
For him and she is ready
For future regrets.
Oh, how she follows
Her heart that loves
The man who deceives
her from the very start
(sequel follows in due time)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Upon Receiving The Wedding Invitation
i once told her
marrying the one you love is not just a matter of luck. she has to accept
it is not always beauty that wins
the updated ones get the best news in town
and those who have taken the first move
gets the prize.She is getting older, and not as beautiful as the rest who already
married and sired their man with many children.
the early bird gets the worm.
the beautiful woman loses to the flirt and the daring.
it is not just the wisdom, it is also the scheme of things
the way she arranges her hair, puts her best foot forward, lying sometimes about
age and experience,
or whatever, she must know better than i who was also caught in this web
of deception
where love suffers, where a woman sometimes has to take a man
because it is getting darker
not the kiss but the child,
that which time secures her the days of her wrath
the time of her
sunset,
when the flowers finally wilt because the roots
have never spread their tips farther
now he has to lose because she stoops for no reason at all
but to conquer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mess Of A Man
Meet a man,
A man named Harry,
He's in need of a shave,
And it's quite scary,
He's got hair on his chest,
Hair on his back,
Hair on his ass,
And hair in his crack,
He leaves hair on the soap,
Hair on the floor,
Hair every place,
Including the store,
Harry, dear Harry,
Do something, please,
Your hair retains odor,
And you reek of cheese!
Look at your cat,
What will you do?
Your cat's hairballs,
They're the hairs from you!
No hope, it seems,
For your hairiness,
It'll just regrow,
So live in your mess.
poem by Maddy Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!