The babies are born twice..
These babies get naughtier day by day,
Not hearing me and loving me any way,
When it rains, she runs out to play,
When it shines, she likes to sunbathe,
When it thunders, she runs into my apron,
When there is a lizard, she screams with tantrums,
Feeding her is very difficult, the liquid food,
The toothless mouth hard to hold,
Spits on my face with ‘love and care',
Bathing him is not easy. He plays with water,
Soap and foam are the disasters,
The man in him is always there,
With perfect pant, shirt and a wallet,
Comb their flimsy hair with blunt comb,
Answer their silly questions,
With answers they want,
Taking them to the doctor,
On every fall and infection,
Looking at them with teary doubts,
Of how long and how many years,
Brain may send the wrong signals,
For them to behave childlike,
As long as they are alive,
I am there to provide and care,
Both known each other for decades,
Showered me with what I needed,
They are the wilted flower and
The shrunken apple with no glamour,
They are the dried fragrant flowers,
Wearing adult diapers.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Combing My Hair
Now people always come around
But they don't always stick around
I run a comb across my head
I wish my hair would settle down
The clock I see is running slow
The batteries are running low
I run a comb across my head
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another first footer across my door
And little less care (hair?) than I had last year
But it doesn't worry me because I
I have no fear
Here
The car I see is painted black
I'm steering (staring) at the driver's back
He runs a comb across his head
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another fresh fare across his door
And little less care than he had last year
But it doesn't worry him because he
He has no fear
Here, here
Now people always come around
But they don't always stick around
They run a comb across your head
I wish my hair would settle down
The clock I see is running slow
We've only got three years to go
We run our combs across our heads
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another first footer across the door
And little less care than we took last year
But it doesn't worry us because we
We have no fear
Here
Have we
We have no fear
Have we
We have no fear
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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!
Hair Styles I Remember
There are hairstyles I remember wearing
oh so long ago.
My father had a fit with most of them
told me, 'go comb that mess out before you go! '
I'd rat it up with the small toothed end of comb
so the base would hold it up.
Then took a brush to smooth it some
and then I sprayed it so it stuck!
The wind could blow its hardest
but my hair withstood its gail!
When anyone would touch my do
they said it felt as hard as nails!
There was one do called the, Bee Hive
It was hallowed out in the center.
Some gilrs would hide their smokes in there
and have a puff or two after schools dinner.
Then there was the bouffant flip
it was the smallest flip you'd ever seen.
Your head looked like this big balloon
with a small hat rim of hair flipping up, was keen!
Then the Pixie and the Bob
boxed off hair cut for cool guys
long hair for the slobs!
Then the Beatles made their hair debut
my father hated them.
Everyone wore the Nauru jackets
and their pant legs tight and slim!
Then Farra Faucet, that's a funny name
but her hairstyle look, was in the hair book hall of fame!
Not too many new looks I see now a days
just long or short, no curls, no waves.
No teasing of hair, no spray or thick gels
But highlights for sure, all look swell.
I'm glad those days are over with
took forever for you to get ready.
Now it's just blow and go, and sprits or two
and your off on a date with your steady!
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Face Smiles Back Easily - Hundred Mile High City B-side
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops and your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
And by the way your eyes are shining through
Theres nothing to do but wake up in light
And like the way your eyes they shine with the sun
And lighten everyone who wakes up in time to see
The face smiled back easily
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops as your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there (x3)
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The way your little finger moved
AH, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God--that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Washing And Dressing
AH! why will my dear little girl be so cross,
And cry, and look sulky, and pout?
To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss,
I can't even kiss her without.
You say you don't like to be wash'd and be dress'd,
But would you not wish to be clean?
Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast,
This face is not fit to be seen.
If the water is cold, and the brush hurts your head,
And the soap has got into your eye,
Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said?
And what good will it do you to cry?
It is not to tease you and hurt you, my sweet,
But only for kindness and care,
That I wash you, and dress you, and make you look neat,
And comb out your tanglesome hair.
I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry,
But pay me for all with a kiss;
That's right–take the towel and wipe your wet eye,
I thought you'd be good after this.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Washing and Dressing
Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross,
And cry, and look sulky, and pout?
To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss,
I can't even kiss her without.
You say you don't like to be wash'd and be dress'd,
But would you not wish to be clean?
Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast,
This face is not fit to be seen.
If the water is cold, and the brush hurts your head,
And the soap has got into your eye,
Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said?
And what good will it do you to cry?
It is not to tease you and hurt you, my sweet,
But only for kindness and care,
That I wash you, and dress you, and make you look neat,
And comb out your tanglesome hair.
I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry,
But pay me for all with a kiss;
That's right -- take the towel and wipe your wet eye,
I thought you'd be good after this.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just A Little Love
When I think that you got everything that you need,
you only ask for more.
You got dresses from Paris and a Jaguar car,
Nasty habits that no sheik could afford.
Easy money and what it buys.
is the loneliest kind of high.
If you ever just give it a try,
Just a little love (just a little love)
Goes a long way.
A little love goes a long, long way.
Just a little love (just a little love)
Just a little love
A little love goes a long, long, long, long way.
You bought a high-dollar house in the Hollywood hills,
the zip code of the stars.
Into nouvelle cuisine, candy keeps you lean.
The doctor takes your credit card.
In the emptiness of the night, when you never feel satisfied.
And you're missin' what could make it right.
Just a little love (just a little love)
Goes a long way.
A little love goes a long, long way.
Just a little love (just a little love)
Just a little love
A little love goes a long, long, long, long way.
Oh yeah.
Aren't you carryin' cash just a little too far?
What happens when it's gone?
Every pleasure gets old, like a river runs dry.
The things that last come down to one.
Just a little love, goes a long way.
A little love goes a long, long way.
Just a little love, just a little love,
A little love goes a long, long, long, long way.
Just a little love, goes a long way.
A little love goes a long, long way.
Just a little love, a little love,
A little love goes a long, long, long, long way.
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
First Love
you had swept back your bangs for the first time
when I saw you under the apple tree
the flower-comb in your hair
I thought you yourself were a flower too.
you stretched out your pale white hand gently
giving me an apple:
like the ripening red of the autumn fruit
my first feeling of love
my sigh, without any awareness
touched your hair
the joys of love's offerings
drinking your love...
under a tree in the apple orchard
nature's narrow road
who left this token here?
your question gave me a piercing pleasure.
poem by Shimazaki Toson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Silently She's Combing
Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
poem by James Joyce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hip Dance
I would like to dance while it rains,
for I have no umbrella.
I would like to dance while it scorches,
for I have no slippers.
I would like to dance while I am hungry,
the music from the stomach compliments.
I would like to dance while I am sad,
for my mind has gone insane.
While we come out of our mothers,
we do the head dance.
While we grow up and understand the world,
we do the dancing exercise just by copying.
while we are adult and have become wild,
we do the hip dance, mostly on bed.
while we are sick and have become destitute,
we can do the dance of the wind.
The head has the brain,
which receive the false signals.
The heart beats with different rhythm,
sometimes fast and otherwise slow,
The adorned diapers become heavier,
The perfect dance floor is set with fragrance.
What a world this is,
we have to dance such a long time.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want To Be Right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If being right means being without you
I'd rather live a wrong doing life
Your mama and daddy say it's a shame
It's a downright disgrace
Long as I got you by my side
I don't care what your people say
Your friends tell you there's no future
in loving a married man
If I can't see you when I want to
I'll see you when I can
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
Am I wrong to fall so deeply in love with you
knowing I got a wife and two little children
depending on me too
And am I wrong to hunger
for the gentleness of your touch
knowing I got somebody else at home
who needs me just as much
And are you wrong to fall in love
with a married man
And am I wrong trying to hold on
to the best thing I ever had
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
Are you wrong to give your love
to a married man
And am I wrong trying to hold on
to the best thing I ever had
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
I don't wanna be right
if it means sleeping alone at night
I don't wanna be right
if it means coming home at night
I don't wanna, I don't wanna
I don't wanna never, never, never be right
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Don't Want To Be Right
(Banks / Hampton / Jackson)
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If being right means being without you
I'd rather live a wrong doing life
Your mama and daddy say it's a shame
It's a downright disgrace
Long as I got you by my side
I don't care what your people say
Your friends tell you there's no future
in loving a married man
If I can't see you when I want to
I'll see you when I can
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
Am I wrong to fall so deeply in love with you
knowing I got a wife and two little children
depending on me too
And am I wrong to hunger
for the gentleness of your touch
knowing I got somebody else at home
who needs me just as much
And are you wrong to fall in love
with a married man
And am I wrong trying to hold on
to the best thing I ever had
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
Are you wrong to give your love
to a married man
And am I wrong trying to hold on
to the best thing I ever had
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
I don't wanna be right
if it means sleeping alone at night
I don't wanna be right
if it means coming home at night
I don't wanna, I don't wanna
I don't wanna never, never, never be right
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Wilted Flower
Your waking dreams
I hear your screams
Of the hour
My wilted flower
All alone
Can’t go home
You must cower
My wilted flower
So much pain
Standing in the rain
You are not of power
My wilted flower
You run away
And there you stay
In the cold rain shower
My wilted flower
Memories of all the hate
Your horrible fate
They no longer tower
My wilted flower
In peace you die
I mustn’t cry
Your last hour
My wilted flower
~2009~
poem by Jennifer Cramer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
why do I mistrust people?
I'd not cry without any reason,
I do long for someone with passion,
To touch me and carry me to their bosom,
Look at me with love for I moan,
After the long shout and screech,
No one care to attend,
I give up hope and start to mistrust,
No one understand the pain,
That I endure and suffer,
At the age of one month,
Until the age of eighteen months,
emotional grooming is done in the brain,
The wrong signals sent by the wrong caretakers,
I do start to mistrust all around me,
I do have the doubt at every action,
As the cloudy water settle the sediment,
At the bottom, the mistrust settles in my heart,
As long as I am alive, I have this feeling,
The feeling of pain that sowed,
In my mind when I was too young.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Child In A Man
Testosterone muscled men have,
The Top and the center, the caves,
Something is there to do the basic,
Nothing is there to think angelic,
Given the work, they do sincerely,
As the kids in the play school aviary,
The children long to be praised,
The children need to be reminded,
The children want to be around,
The loving hearts that care,
In each and every man, there is a child,
That long for the love of a mother,
When the women identify that child,
They have the responsible man in the household,
When the women take good care of that child,
They have the obedient handyman in the household.
When the women try to be funny with that child
The child will be the runaway kid,
Likes to play truant, shows the authority,
Displays tantrums and becomes juvenile delinquent.
Identify and rear that child efficiently..
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Silly Game
I never thought u would be the one
That Id wanna run 2
I never thought u would be the one
That would make me care
And even tho u done me wrong
4 some strange reason I cant xplain
I get happy knowing u phoned
Cuz your voice could kill my every pain
Why do we play this silly game?
I never thought u would be the one
That Id wanna give 2
A diamond ring, anything that u ask me 2
But there u were, bragging 2 your friends
Making up a story thats so lame
That I was down 2 be your sugardaddy
One way ticket to ghetto fame
Why do we play this silly game?
Every other night u werent at home
Out in the streets, just acting grown
Never with a bodyguard or chaperone
Then I hear a rumour that breaks my heart
Instead of taking care of yourself
Ure tearing yourself apart
Now why u wanna
(why u wanna, why u wanna ...)
Now why u wanna go and do that, love?
Why do we play this silly game?
I never thought u would be the one
(that Id wanna run 2) that Id wanna run 2
I never thought ud be the one
That would make me care
No matter how far I run
Ill never be the same (Ill never be the same)
In the end, in the end, theres only us 2 blame
Why do we play this ...
Why do we play this silly ...
Why do we play this silly game?
Yeah
Ooh-ooh
Tell me why? (tell me why? )
Oh why? (oh why? )
Oh why - why?
Why do we play this silly game?
Game
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
evasive (EDITED FOR one letter only)
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who knows?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Evasive
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who know?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!