Hair
Take care of your locks,
Stress and clocks,
Can shed the locks,
When it drops,
There's no stops.
But you can regain
with Rogaine?
A head massage
and hair tonic
Get back visage
and look supersonic!
Related quotes
To a Prospective Cook
Curly locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet weed the flowers,
But stand in the kitchen and cook a fine meal,
And ride every night in an automobile.
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, come to us soon!
Thou needest not to rise until mid-afternoon;
Thou mayest be Croatian, Armenian, or Greek;
Thy guerdon shall be what thy askest per week.
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, give us a chance!
Thou shalt not wash windows, nor iron my pants.
Oh, come to the cosiest of seven-room bowers,
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Haircut Payback
My wife cuts my hair
my hippie days are done
the kitty below my chair
thinks the severed locks are fun
she's a stupid one alright
as my hair upon her falls
does she think she is
the belle of this hair ball?
I smile at a thought
and resist on yelling SCAT
after all, it isn't often
that I
...shed on the cat
poem by Chuck Audette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Things That We Keep Forever
a handwritten name on a
grade one paper
a handkerchief with a
name embroidered on it
locks of baby's hair inside
the page of a fairytale book
an old wooden box
these are some of the things
mother kept for me:
my first paper when
i learned to write
my name,
a handkerchief that mother
gave me on my 5th
birthday,
locks of my hair
on my first hair cut,
mother kept them all,
mother's love, i too,
shall keep it forever.
I love you mama.
I always will.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm the type of woman you might say is too good. I'll massage a man's feet, have dinner cooked when he gets home. But once they leave, the door is closed, and the locks are changed.
quote by Angie Stone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dica
With flowers fair adorn thy lustrous hair,
Dica, amidst thy locks sweet blossoms twine,
With thy soft hands, for so a maiden stands
Accepted of the gods, whose eyes divine
Are turned away from her--though fair as May
She waits, but round whose locks no flowers shine.
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
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I have six locks on my door all in a row. When I go out, I lock every other one. I figure no matter how long somebody stands there picking the locks, they are always locking three.
quote by Elayne Boosler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Julie Claire
Oh Julie Claire was very fair,
Yet generous as well,
And many a lad of metal had
A saucy tale to tell
Of sultry squeeze beneath the trees
Or hugging in the hay . . .
Of love her share had Julie Claire
When life was lush and gay.
And then the village wealth to pillage
Came the Teuton horde;
The haughty Huns with mighty guns
And clattering of sword.
And Julie Claire had honey hair
With eyes of soft azure,
So she became the favoured flame
Of the Kommandatur.
But when at last the plague was past,
The bloody war well won,
We clipped the locks of every dox
Who dallied with the Hun.
Each wench with scorn was duly shorn;
Our Marie the shears would weld,
And Julie's head with ringlets shed
Was like a turnip peeled.
But of these days of wanton ways
No more the village talks,
For Julie Claire has wed the Maire
Who clipped her golden locks . . .
Nay, do not try to me I
Must suffer for my sins,
For all agree the Marie must be
The father of her twins.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hairbrush
how i wish my fingers were the bristles
or my breath were the wind when it whistles
thru your hair, thru your hair
i wish you'd hold me in your hands
and let me skate thru all the strands
of your hair, of your hair
i could style it anyway you like it
i could brush it straight or even spike it
au contraire! au contraire!
or i would wait patiently in my box
until next i would comb the locks
of your hair, of your hair
i would braid it tight, tousle, and tease!
or pull it back in a ponytail, if you please;
if you dare, if you dare
how often is it a man confesses
that he wish to run barefoot thru the tresses
of your hair, of your hair?
you may think me a little touch'd
but can i tell you just how much
i hate your hairbrush?
this obsession may be zealous
but can i tell you just how jealous
i am of your hairbrush? !
poem by Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo
(Maidens’ song from St. Winefred’s Well)
THE LEADEN ECHO
How to kéep—is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce, latch or catch or key to keep
Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, … from vanishing away?
Ó is there no frowning of these wrinkles, rankéd wrinkles deep,
Dówn? no waving off of these most mournful messengers, still messengers, sad and stealing messengers of grey?
No there ’s none, there ’s none, O no there ’s none,
Nor can you long be, what you now are, called fair,
Do what you may do, what, do what you may,
And wisdom is early to despair:
Be beginning; since, no, nothing can be done
To keep at bay
Age and age’s evils, hoar hair,
Ruck and wrinkle, drooping, dying, death’s worst, winding sheets, tombs and worms and tumbling to decay;
So be beginning, be beginning to despair.
O there ’s none; no no no there ’s none:
Be beginning to despair, to despair,
Despair, despair, despair, despair.
THE GOLDEN ECHO
Spare!
There ís one, yes I have one (Hush there!);
Only not within seeing of the sun,
Not within the singeing of the strong sun,
Tall sun’s tingeing, or treacherous the tainting of the earth’s air,
Somewhere elsewhere there is ah well where! one,
Oné. Yes I can tell such a key, I do know such a place,
Where whatever’s prized and passes of us, everything that ’s fresh and fast flying of us, seems to us sweet of us and swiftly away with, done away with, undone,
Undone, done with, soon done with, and yet dearly and dangerously sweet
Of us, the wimpled-water-dimpled, not-by-morning-matchèd face,
The flower of beauty, fleece of beauty, too too apt to, ah! to fleet,
Never fleets móre, fastened with the tenderest truth
To its own best being and its loveliness of youth: it is an everlastingness of, O it is an all youth!
Come then, your ways and airs and looks, locks, maiden gear, gallantry and gaiety and grace,
Winning ways, airs innocent, maiden manners, sweet looks, loose locks, long locks, lovelocks, gaygear, going gallant, girlgrace—
Resign them, sign them, seal them, send them, motion them with breath,
And with sighs soaring, soaring síghs deliver
Them; beauty-in-the-ghost, deliver it, early now, long before death
Give beauty back, beauty, beauty, beauty, back to God, beauty’s self and beauty’s giver.
See; not a hair is, not an eyelash, not the least lash lost; every hair
Is, hair of the head, numbered.
Nay, what we had lighthanded left in surly the mere mould
Will have waked and have waxed and have walked with the wind what while we slept,
This side, that side hurling a heavyheaded hundredfold
What while we, while we slumbered.
O then, weary then why
When the thing we freely fórfeit is kept with fonder a care,
Fonder a care kept than we could have kept it, kept
Far with fonder a care (and we, we should have lost it) finer, fonder
A care kept.—Where kept? Do but tell us where kept, where.—
Yonder.—What high as that! We follow, now we follow.—Yonder, yes yonder, yonder,
Yonder.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Six Locks
Six locks on my door!
Why not just two or three?
You really wanna know?
I’ll tell you so!
why that works so darn well for me
I put six locks
all in a row on my door
But I only lock
every other one, you see
Because while a burglar thinks
he’s pickin all six
He’s really
always lockin three
poem by David Whalen
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When the plane which was supersonic
reached top speed they were drinking Gin Tonic,
as they fell from the sky
it was whiskey and rye
for the ones on the ground - how ironic.
quote by by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Surf Talks
Oooh I love you
Giggle giggle
The surf talks
Do you love me too?
If the surf could talk, I know shed ask
Do you think youre equal to the task?
If the surf could talk, shed say
Beware I love you
So Id answer very carefully
And Id ask if shed be there for me
And the surf says always
Beware I love you
The surf says I want you like you want me
Am I in you? are you in me?
Tell me
The surf talks
And it knows what to say
The surf talks
I must learn to obey
The gun cocks, the clock stops, the earth rocks, the surf talks
The surf talks
Puts its tongue on my skin
The surf talks
While its sucking me in
The door locks and unlocks, the veil drops, the surf talks
She has promised me a beach of pearls
And an endless wave, a perfect curl
And she tells me always
Beware I love you
She will place the world inside my hand
She will touch the soul of every man
She will take my message
Im here to love you
The surf says I want you here inside me
Am I in you? are you in me?
Tell me
We are standing on a beach of pearls
We are riding deep inside the curl
And everybody all around the world
Must surrender when your flag unfurls
We are standing on a beach of pearls
We are riding deep inside the curl
And everybody all around the world
Will be dancing in the sea.
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When My Voice Stops!
When my voice stops for ever
There will be no tumults of words ever.
The stars will still twinkle and rivers will still die.
When my voice stops I shall dive into your oblivion
And in another costume someone will impersonate me.
The hymns will still be heard and the fresh idols will surface.
When my voice stops a lone sheep may bleat
As it stands near the tender leaves aplenty.
I think it may bleat for a while and cease to do so thenceforth.
When my voice stops those who loved me once for a while
May shed a few drops of tears innocent
And I may turn on my tomb for a sigh!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Mrs. Frances--Arabella Kelly.
To Day, as at my Glass I stood,
To set my Head--cloaths, and my Hood;
I saw my grizzled Locks with Dread,
And call'd to mind the Gorgon's Head.
Thought I, whate'er the Poets say,
Medusa's Hair was only gray:
Tho' Ovid, who the Story told,
Was too well--bred to call her old;
But, what amounted to the same,
He made her an immortal Dame.
Yet now, whene'er a Matron sage
Hath felt the rugged Hand of Age,
You hear out witty Coxcombs cry,
Rot that old Witch--she'll never die.
Tho', had they but a little Reading,
Ovid would teach them better Breeding.
I fancy now, I hear you say,
Grant Heav'n, my Locks may ne'er be gray!
Why am I told this frightful Story?
To Beauty a Memento mori.
And, as along the Room you pass,
Casting your Eye upon the Glass,
Surely, say you, this lovely Face
Will never suffer such Disgrace:
The Bloom, that on my Cheek appears,
Will never be impair'd by Years.
Her Envy, now, I plainly see,
Makes her inscribe those Lines to me.
These Beldams, who were born before me,
Are griev'd to see the Men adore me:
Their snaky Locks freeze up the Blood;
My Tresses fire the purple Flood.
Unnumber'd Slaves around me wait,
And from my Eyes expect their Fate:
I own, of Conquest I am vain,
Tho' I despise the Slaves I gain.
Heav'n gave me Charms, and destin'd me
For universal Tyranny.
poem by Mary Barber
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On Pallas Bathing, From A Hymn Of Callimachus
Nor oils of balmy scene produce,
Nor mirror for Minerva's use,
Ye nymphs who lave her; she, array'd
In genuine beauty, scorns their aid.
Not even when they left the skies,
To seek on Ida's head the prize
From Paris' hand, did Juno deign,
Or Pallas in the crystal plain
Of Simois' stream her locks to trace,
Or in the mirror's polished face,
Though Venus oft with anxious care
Adjusted twice a single hair.
poem by William Cowper
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Hair today gone tomorrow
Some people have got a lot of hair
whilst others have hardly any at all
many have a thick looking mop
for a lot it's just a bright shiny ball.
It's there to cover a persons head
shades of black, brown, blonde, and grey,
some of it stays firmly in place
but in the wind a wig can be blown away.
Women like to try different styles
they can become a redhead overnight
but always say their hair looks nice
that's if you don't want to start a fight.
As you get older it starts to change colour
your dark locks can even turn white
that's when a lot of folk start to dye it
but for some reason it never looks right.
So if your hair is starting to fall out
or you've got not one hair on top
just think of all the money you'll save
with no more trips to your local barber shop!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Door To Door
All us angels wearing studs
Yeah, plastic mouth melts in the sun
Oo, running colors everyone
Cause were all in prison having fun
Oh, perfect pictures hang around
Well, delusions swing you up and down
Well fall out windows climb up trees
Im lookin for tranquillity
Hmm, got your, o locks and chains
Well, still gonna blow your brains out
Those locks and chains
No, nah, never felt like a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Oo yeah, I never felt like a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Oo, yeah you got your herds of people choosing arms
Gonna keep us all in mass alarm
Oh, murder movies make your day
Ah, ah, living in the usa
Cracked up people on the edge
They got no heroes got no bread
Oh, get the jitters get the shakes
Lookin like (? ) the final take
Ooh, well locks and chains
Gonna protect you
Well locks and chains
Dont feel no more
Never felt a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Oh, never felt a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Ha- shh, oo
Yeah locks and chains
Well gonna blow your brains out?
Yeah locks and chains
Cant feel no more
Never felt a dream like you before
(ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Uh well I never felt a dream like you before
(ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh)
Oo, even knocking door to door
Oh, livin in a dream is all the same
Ah, yeah livin in a dream is a-all the same
Oh never felt a dream like you before
(ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door (door)
Door to door
song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The Fox
Who is the fox - I am the fox
Who are you - I am me
Who is me - Me is a thief
You'll bring your poor, poor mother grief
So after the fox, after the fox
Off to the hunt with chains and locks
So after the fox, after the fox
Someone is always chasing after the fox
Where is the gold - It's on the truck
Where's the truck - I won't tell
You must tell - Then I will lie
You'll make your poor, poor sister cry
So after the fox, after the fox
Off to the hunt with chains and locks
So after the fox, after the fox
Someone is always chasing after the fox
Why do you steal - So I'll be rich
Why not work - Work is hard
You'll be caught - I never fail
All little crooks wind up in jail - Not me not me
So after the fox, after the fox
Off to the hunt with chains and locks
So after the fox, after the fox
Someone is always chasing after the fox
After the fox
After the fox
After the fox
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Those With The Key
The gate has been locked,
To block access...
To those once accustomed,
To free entry and free reign.
And this has been suggested...
Maybe one's own finding,
Of a home on the range...
Suitable for the deer and the antelope,
To play.
And any mumbling heard is one's own
The gate has been locked,
To block out the physical.
And that which appears limited.
But one 'spirited' in mind,
Can choose to look over the gate.
Or through its cracks.
Or...
Sit to wonder why THIS gate attracts.
And gates with locks that block,
To stop what's coming in...
Seem to imprison those behind them,
Rarely to come out to test the locks.
And only those with the key,
Know what it is used for.
AND...
Its history to be known or not!
Since whoever has got the key,
Needs not to peek or have interest in the doing.
Only those with the key to the gate that locks,
To block in or not to block out...
Do not concern themselves with peeking.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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