En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Erotic Hair

when my hair
gets long enough
after a month
uncut by
my gay barber
they become
so curly
like my pubic
hair

and women
and even gays
love all the curls
of my hair

erotic hair
and i am wearing it
as a crown

understand
i am coping up
with mid-crisis
and i like to
say

i got hair
and they are too curly
like my
(messy) sex life

listen, my life
begins at 69.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Haircut.

The Barber came to cut my hair,

I told him that it wasn't fair.

My hair had done him no harm,

Without it I would loose my charm.

The Barber he grinned a silly grin,

Said to cut my hair would be no sin.

That I should face it like a man,

But I'm a coward and away I ran.

Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,

With him chopping away your lovely hair.

Once my head was full of curls,

Covering my face with twisty twirls.

But then the Barber came my way,

I was a child, I had no say.

Off came my curls one by one,

The Barber seemed to have great fun.

Now I'm old and very grey,

I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.

But when I see a Barbers chair,

I feel the loss of my curly hair.

You know I truly rue the day,

When that first Barber came my way.

poem by Bernard Shaw
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A girl with curls...! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

I don’t like my curly hair.
Everyday I say a prayer.

God, please make my hair straight.
I want to make two long plaits.

Do you think He hears my plea?
Oh, she asked innocently of me.

Dear, you look truly like an angel.
But they are always entangled.

Please, please pray for me.
I want hair like you, you see.

Do you think He really loves me?
Darling, He loves everyone you see.

Then why did he make my hair curly.
He loves you very, very dearly.

On hearing this she did a jig.
He must have a heart really big.

I just can’t love everyone.
That boy who teases me, for one.

Then she clapped and ran about.
Kicking the ball, scream and shout.

Forgot all about her curls.
How dainty is my little girl!

Of Anika, for Anika, my grand daughter

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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She loves her hair stretched

accustomed to curly hair
when we were yet children
living in the same house

I feel uneasy why she
wears stretched hair
And she takes pride
about her new found fashion
And taste for something straight.

Curly hairs and split ends
Never gave her luck
She got an ugly husband
Who does not understand her
Rich maybe, but slaps her

It is time she gains confidence
In herself to a newer face
A stretched hair, straight
And candid and ready to
Fight now, win or lose,

At whatever costs she must
Deny her old self, the one
With the curly hair, she is
Ready for the consequences.

Her right as a new woman
With stretched hair is now

Or never, she has no time left
Anymore for hiding and cowardice and tears.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little Jamie

Ither laddies may ha's finer claes, and may be better fed,
But nane o' them a'has sic a bonnie curly heid,
O sie a blythe blink in their e'e,
As my ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.

When I gang oot tae tak' a walk wi' him, alang the Magdalen Green,
It mak's my heart feel lichtsome tae see him sae sharp and keen,
And he pu's the wee gowans, and gie's them to me,
My ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.

When he rises in the mornin' an' gets oot o' bed,
He says, mither, mind ye'll need tae toast my faither's bread.
For he aye gie's me a bawbee;
He's the best little laddie that ever I did see,
My ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.

When I gang oot tae tak' a walk alang the streets o' Dundee,
And views a' the little laddies that I chance to see,
Nane o' them a' seems sae lovely to me,
As my ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.

The laddie is handsome and fair to be seen,
He has a bonnie cheerie mou', and taw blue e'en,
And he prattles like an auld grandfaither richt merrily;
He's the funniest little laddie that ever I did see,
My ain curly fair-hair'd Iaddie, Little Jamie.

Whene'er that he kens I am coming hame frae my wark,
He runs oot tae meet me as cheerful as the lark,
And he says, faither, I'm wanting just a'e bawbee,
My ain curly fair-hair'd laddie, Little Jamie.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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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
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How Do You Separate The Woman From The Poetess?

she is mad at me
and i wonder

how was i not able to separate
her being a woman from being a poetess?

is it her lust or her love?
she says 13 inches is smaller

and i just can't get why should she not make
me comment on her creations anymore?

why i have become so indelicate?
is it because my hair is curly?
or my pubic hair too thick?

does she dare touch the most delicate part
of my body?

we are far and she is too sensitive
we have not seen each other and yet she is filled with anger.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bad Hair Days (A Fun Poem)

Everyday is always a bad hair day for me
Mine is very curly, they told me it's kinky
I have a hard time combing my hair, you see
Have to visit my hairdresser to fix it for me

It was very shiny, as straight as can be
It was always like these since I was a little lady
Now, I am used to see this everyday
Ummm, I don't see what happened to me

Getting up early in the morning is not that easy
I have to have a ribbon to hold it, the neighbors might see
Never mind If they laugh at me and call me crazy
I have a God who loves me and take care of me.

Hey! I am elated this way, God created me like that,
And no bad hair day will ever make me give it back,
Yes! Truly blessed to have hair as pleasing as can be,
Think what you want, I absolutely adore it. He he he!

Hmmm..not a bad hair day at all...I love it..! ! ! He he he

poem by Meggie Gultiano
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Girls With Curls

Girls who have a natural curl
to their hair are completely
agitated with the bending trend...
they heat their flat iron discreetly

Testing to make sure it won't burn
patiently taking their hair by strands
smoothly ironing the kink... firmly
pressing as hard as it will withstand

Gradually natural curls are
entirely straight as a board
not a wave or twist is insight...
An hour of diligence gives reward

Girls with naturally straight hair
admire girls with curly hair
they wish they too could have
bounce and twirls without a care

It is their desire to duplicate
curly hair in order to feel pretty
Hours are spent carefully spinning
strands upon spools until weary

After waiting somewhat patiently
the time for triumph slowly arrives
Gently undoing the spins to see
beautiful ringlets for which they strive

It is a perplexing mystery to unravel
It is unknown to the great intellects
of the world why some girls undo
curls while others pursue… it is complex

9/4/2010

poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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His Hair

We've never combed his hair since he was born,
But we only cut it when it grows long;
And that is how he came into the world with his curly hair.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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This Morning At The Barbershop

This morning at the barbershop,
a barber is busy with the hair
of a much older grey haired man
that he is trimming neatly
and a young man
sits in one of the barber’s chairs.

When I sit down to wait
the young man rises
turning to me
and asks if he can cut my hair.

I was happy to get attention immediately
while the other barber was finishing
with the older man,
as he looks to finely tuned to me.

My hair was smartly cut
with a pair of scissors
and the young barber
held his fingers
to determine the length
and I wanted it shorter
than just cutting off the ends

while the other barber
first took a hair blower
from a drawer,
sprayed something over his own hair
before he started to blow it in the mirror
and he then said
that he cannot go
to the bank to wait in line
with a head looking like Tut’s ass

and I saw my locks
falling dark brown
with dots of grey around me
and saw the other barber
combing his long hair
and smiled at myself
about the vanity of humanity
while I looked at myself
and were starting to look much better.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Sliver Dream

To a curly hair girl

Last night, I dreamt in the dream

Orange tree, growing at my heart

Under blue sky, on the blue ocean

Wind of change, lifting my heart

Last night, I dream in the dream

Curly hair girl, walking softly

Visible into my eye, I only saw her shadow

With wing of angel, flying slowly

Over my starry sky, in my dream

Oh, curly hair girl, beheld me with your eye

And you will see, life is not a dream

Or love is not dream in my eye

Through lonely night, I dreamt of song

That neither lyric, nor music

Nor word, but I still could hear the song

Of your walking, softly, on my heart.

poem by Kathup Tsering
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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
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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)

poem by Jim Foulk
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The Ying & Yang Of Her Hair

One day I tell her
I love her hair

up.

Another day I tell her
I like her hair

down.

“Which is it? ”
She frowns

“Up
or
down! ”

“Ah...”
I say

“Either
or neither! ”

“I love your hair
up
in that it can
come down

splash all over me.”

“And I love your hair down
in that it can be
put up
in a cathedral of curls! ”

“I love the one
becoming the other

…the process of
becoming! ”

You leave the room
only to return

with one side up
& one side down.

I laugh.

“Not quite what
I had intended.

You throw yourself
into my lap

let your hair
waterfall
all over me

& I
drown... drown

poem by Dónall Dempsey
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I Wanted to Have a New Hair Style

I went to the barber this morning
To get a hair cut
Because my hair was too long
And I had decided
That I wanted to have a new hair style
I know it seems a little crazy
Maybe I lost my mind
Or I got a little carried away

poem by Aldo Kraas
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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
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Shinning gem's

so special is your hair
without
a seconds and
a countless of gesture, your
fingers wish
to touch

your glooming
hair
in your head
looking back the comb
that splashes the
thinned
shinning hair, as it flashes

all the oily
smooth curly strands, where
between its
length
the little tiny lies wish
to reach
the bottom
views of the beautiful
hair

my bosom friend
love to settle
her magnificent glows of gems
I kept it a
blinks for a while, tempted
to smell

wondering what
would it be, yet!
so fulfilling
to
blow the wind
dazzling to reach the
alluring hair

of my beloved
friend, the only precious
gems she
possess until, the beautiful
angelic hair lost it’s
fragrance of
existence, a glimpse of
dust mesmerize

the memories of the YOU

poem by Antonio Liao
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Nappy Head

Your hair is dirty, good sir -
Said an innocent child to me one day.
I have what they call African hair,
A natural nappy head.
Its brownish colour they call mousy
What I really would like called auburn.
And so the kid had observed,
She was innocent though
And I had to explain to her
That the same creator who endowed her
With her long beautiful black curly hair
Had also done the same with my kinky mousy one!

poem by Kimani wa Mumbi
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The Accentuated Curls

To twist around is a crime
It will distract the follicles
From being so sublime
The scissors dance around my curls
Waltzing through my particles
As barber John around me whirls
And sings- a jubilant, Italian song
And other barbers sign along
To juicy, creamy melodies,
While mirrors show my vanities

And carefree and distorted
The hair will be rewarded
With admiration from the rest
All people will boldly attest
That my hair is so wonderful,
That my hair is so beautiful,
That my hair has much grace
And it distracts from that hideous, grotesque face.

poem by Sasha Ioffine
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The Human Shape

Racially pure European and Asian
men have straight hair growing
from their heads.
Some other men have hair that's
curly, growing from their heads.
But hair shape is not the shape that
really matters.
Because it's the shape of the human
forehead that makes you a man.
Rather than a chimpanzee.
Whether your skin color is white,
brown or bread-crust tan.

poem by Philip R. Garges Jr.
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