The Little Girl With Curly Hair
there is this little girls with black curly hair
flat nose, thin eyelashes, wavy goatish eyelids,
sitting on a bamboo pole
(the common furniture there)
with bare hands and bare feet
staring at me,
for i am new here and i have a big tummy
and i am white skinned, and i have candied
inside my pockets, she knows that soon
i will throw all these candies in the air
for all the other children
but there is something strange about this
little brown girl with curly hair sitting all alone
on that bamboo chair
her father and mother were killed in the last rebellion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
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The Bear and the Hare
The bear is always bare. I have never seen a bear who was not bare. Or does he or she wear a coat of hair? Where does he or she go to buy a coat of hair so that he or she won't be a bare bear? Coats cost money. Bare bears have no money.
But bears eat honey. Even bare bears eat honey. And this bear had a honey who wanted a coat of hair. So when she said to her honey, 'Honey, I want a coat of hair, but I have no money.', her honey replied, 'Honey, I have no money to buy a coat of hair. But I do have honey. Maybe I can sell my honey for money.' So he sold his honey for money so that his honey could have some money to buy a coat of hair and not be a bare bear.
This bear had a friend who was a hare. This hare has hair. Is he bare? He is not a bare bear but a hare and hares have hair. But he is a funny bunny and likes a sunny spot even when it is hot because he like to have fun in the sun. But this funny bunny could not find a sunny spot to go to have fun in the sun until one day a fair came to town.
The bear and hare of course went to the fair. What a pair! The fair was quite far so the bare bear and the hare with the hair decided to ride the street car. To ride the street car, they had to pay a fare. I say that was quite an affair - to see the bare bear and the hair paying for their fare. The bare bear had no pockets in which to carry any fare. The funny bunny had no honey to sell to get some money to pay the fare so that he could go to the fair. The fare cost ten cents. But that makes no sense. It isn't fair to make a bear who is bare and has no pockets to hold a fare or a funny bunny who has no honey to get money to pay a fare to go to the fair.
Subsequently, the bare bear barely got on the street car after the funny bunny hopped on, the bare bear and the hair were there sitting in chairs riding in the street car to the fair without paying any fare. Along the way they saw a mare. They did not care about the mare. They wanted to get to the fair. Have you every seen a bare bear sitting in a chair? I once saw a bare bear sitting in a chair at a fair but he wasn't bare.
To get into the fair the bare bear and the hair had to pay another fare. And still the bare bear had no money to pay any fare to get into the fair. And the funny bunny had no money to pay any fare to get into the fair. So what did they do? How did they get into the fair? As I said, I saw the bare bear sitting in a chair at the fair but he wasn't bare.
Tell me if this is a poem. Thanks.
poem by Ben Gieske
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Prayer For You
On the edge of the unknown
Along a lonely road
Stands a little girl
Her robin's egg eyes
Hold a history of lies
About history itself
Her curly black hair
Tangled beyond repair
Like life itself
Her bare hands and feet
Hold the scars of those she meets
But nothing else
And as she walks away
You hear her soft voice pray
Not for herself
But for you.
poem by Megan Louise Brown
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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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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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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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Mother Goddess
a circle of stars over
her head
hands holding white
flowers
her feet on top
of a snake
her long black hair
smooth skin
wavy eyelashes
slender fingers
virgin
pure
mother of all
in plaster of Paris
painted and revered
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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Dark Skies
Never trust dark skies,
Mother says, sitting next
To you in her wheelchair
Aged and infirm, her mind
Shot through with senility;
And you remember her telling
You, that as a young girl, she
Would walk with her mother
And younger siblings, to take
Her father’s Sunday roast dinner,
Hidden in the compartment of
The pram beneath her two baby
Sisters, to the work place where
He waited, and her mother saying,
Make sure the others do not make
Off Etty, and your mother as she
Was then, with her big blue eyes
And long curly hair, having that look
About her, as if she could see her
Father’s death in 1936, and him no
Longer waiting, no longer waiting for
Them all patiently and hungrily there.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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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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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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I had beautiful wavy hair and a waxed mustache.
quote by Curly Howard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Arrangement
.. and so we went to her place
in a house where her only furniture
is a bamboo bed
she holds my face
she kneels down
she kisses my hand
as though she is my slave
... and so something which should not have happened happened
there's that tinge of guilt
i wanted her to say she loves me
but she didn't
she made me happy all the way
all way through that lonely night
on that bamboo bed
that following morning
when she was still fast asleep
i kissed her hair
put something beside her
that she loves most
it will make her survive perhaps for a month
even without love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Characteristics of People
Long hair,
Short hair
Dark or light,
Black or white
Small or full lips,
Thin or wide hips
Blue eyes,
Brown eyes
Skinny or fat,
This or that
Everyone has one or another,
Wether it's from themselves
Or their father or mother.
poem by Jessica Goudreault
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Around The Way Girl
(you got me shook up shook down shook out on your loving)
(on your loving)
I want a girl with extensions in her hair
Bamboo earrings
At least two pair
A fendi bag and a bad attitude
Thats all I need to get me in a good mood
She can walk with a switch and talk with street slang
I love it when a woman is scared to do her thing
Standing at the bus stop sucking on a lollipop
Once she gets pumping its hard to make the hottie stop
She likes to dance to the rap jam
She sweet as brown sugar with the candied yams
Honey coated complexion
Using camay
Lets hear it for the girl shes from around the way
Chorus
I need an around the way girl
Around the way girl
Thats the one for me
Shes the only one for me
I need an around the way girl
(you got me shook up shook down shook out on your loving)
Silky, milky her smile is like sunshine
Thats why I had to dedicate at least one rhyme
To all the cuties in the neighborhood
Cause if I didnt tell you then another brother would
Your sweet like sugar with your gangster talk
Want to eat you like a cookie when I see you walk
With your rayon, silk or maybe even denim
It really doesnt matter as long as youre in them
You can break hearts and manipulate minds
Or surrender act tender be gentle and kind
You always know what to say and do
Cold flip when you think your man is playing you
Not cheap but petty
Youre ready for loving
Youre real independent so your parents be bugging
But if you ever need a place to stay
(oooh you love me)
Come around my way
Chorus
I need an around the way girl
Around the way girl
Thats the one for me
Shes the only one for me
To the bridge
I need an around the way girl
(you got me shook up shook down shook out on your loving)
Perm in your hair or even a curly weave
With that new edition bobby brown button on your sleeve
I tell you come here
You say meet me half way
Cause brothers been popping that game all day
Around the way youre like a neighborhood jewel
All the home boys sweat you so youre crazy cool
Wear your gold in the summer with your biking shorts
While you watching all the brothers on the basketball court
Going to the movies with your home girls crew
While the businessmen in suits be hawking you
Baby, hair pumping, lip gloss is shining
I think you in the mood for whining and dining
So we can go out and eat somewhere
We got a lot of private jokes to share
Lisa, angela, pamela, renee I love youyoure from around the way
Chorus
I need an around the way girl
Around the way girl
Thats the one for me
She dont love him
(you got me shook)
I need an around the way girl
An around the way girl
Fine as can be
(oooh you love me)
She oh yea
I need an around the way girl
Around the way girl
Thats the one for me
The only one for me
I need an around the way girl
An around the way girl
Fine as can be
(you got me shook up shook down shook out on your loving)
(you got me shook up shook down shook out)
(till fade)
song performed by by LL Cool J
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Many Different Hairstyles
Braids, pigtails, buns,
So many different hairstyles.
Blondes, brunettes, redheads,
So many different colours.
Red, purple, orange,
So many different dyes.
Mohawks, buzz, mushroom,
So many different haircuts.
Bangs, trims, layers,
So many different hair fashions.
Curly, wavy, straight,
So many different hair types.
Short, medium, long,
So many different lengths.
Bald, thick, thin,
So many different hairs.
Gel, hairspray, mousse,
So many different hair glues.
Bobby pins, clips, pencils.
So many different accessories.
Scrunchies, hair bands, elastics,
So many different frills.
Straightener, curler, blow-dryer,
So many different electric devices,
Comb, brush, separator,
So many different appliances.
poem by Janneke Tenvoorde
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That girl
That girl
with bangs on her hair
a pink headband, thick lips pure red,
curly hair, mini skirt, and bleached legs
as white as may sky,
the way she sits tells me
that she is a woman now
beautiful to be with
because of her
bad habits.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cinquain: Hair
Hair
Wavy, Curly
Washing, Shampooing, Conditioning
The ladies love it
Banging
poem by Albert Solis
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Got Chocolate?
Snowflakes the size of marshmallows fall to the earth;
Frosty icy winds play havoc with her red curly hair.
She delights in frolicking in snow so deep;
Bundled up in bright green coat and leggings,
pink hat, scarf and gloves
she brightens up the gray day.
Grandpa dons his own snow gear, dark brown coat,
black ear muffs, gloves and red Santa hat;
shovel in hand he begins to clear the path
when 'she' playfully jumps into it re-snowing it
to Grandpa's chagrin as he grins
pretending to be annoyed.
but he re-shovels again with great patience.
The worst of the storm has passed. The white stuff
is the perfect setting this day, this Christmas Eve.
Cold, wet and tired Grandpa and granddaughter
come in to warm up to hot chocolate with marshmallows
and it reminds curly head of the snow fall today.
Grandpa's white mustache is chocolate dyed.
Curly Head's mouth says: 'Got chocolate? '
Bedtime has evolved, Santa's on his way.
Curly head has left him a treat in a cup.
Santa arrived;
he put Curly Head's presents under the tree
Santa's white mustache gave him away;
he looked at himself in the mantle mirror
and laughed a hearty, 'HO, HO, HO'
His white mustache was chocolate dyed
and he cried aloud:
'GOT CHOCOLATE?
'HO, HO, HO! '
© Mel Patterson,11-2011
poem by Mel Patterson
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