The Scholars
BALD heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.
All shuffle there; all cough in ink;
All wear the carpet with their shoes;
All think what other people think;
All know the man their neighbour knows.
Lord, what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Related quotes
Prose Poetics-7
Everybody is
Beauty conscious and
After beauty parlours..
It is a personal desire
I cannot deny
Even if I feel
They're mostly awry(awful)
With their tweezed look
Because beauty-parlours
Are connectedly
Spoken about with health
But many parlour-goers
Be it male or female
Young or old wear
wigs to hide their
Bald or grey..
Something wrong somewhere
If mind and body are friendly
Then face should reflect
Its inner beauty
The most respectable
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Basically, they had asked me if I would shave my head or wear a bald cap. I said look, if you are doing a series for five years I would want to shave my hair because I would go bald with all the gum and glue from the bald cap.
quote by Persis Khambatta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fashion Awards
Lets go down to the fashion show
With all the pretty people that you dont know
Well sit down in the velvet chairs
Theyll hand awards out for best hair
And if we dont win one, well, then
Well blow off our heads in despair
Well blow off our heads in despair
I smell magic in the room
Flashing lights and sonic booms
Lovely saps all without a care
Nobody said that the world was fair
And if they did say so, well, then
Well blow off our heads in despair
Well blow off our heads in despair
Lets go down to the fashion show
With all the pretty people and piles of blow
Well sit down in the velvet chairs
And hang on tight to our bus fare
And if it falls between the seats
Well blow off our heads in despair
Well blow off our heads in despair
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I love my hair
I love my hair
I always toss it around in the air
As if without a care!
I love my hair
Once I caught the super hair bug
Caught it whilst I slept on an old rug
The super lice were playing scratch, scratch, and scratch
While my fingernails were playing catch, catch and catch
Finally my hair was shaven as there was no cure, no other drug
I wore my head on my shoulder for a while with a distasteful shrug
Hiding underneath a cap with obvious bald patches that seemed to match
I love my hair
Long, golden plaited and brown
Enough to move heads around in town
People just want to come near
And stare! Stare at me! Who is that alien from elsewhere?
My hair is beautifully plaited in strands
This kind of hair fashion is high in demand
So many different styles to experiment with and expand
Today a woman needs to look good, do you understand?
I talk to my hair with oils
I say today I need you to curl
And when I style you,
Stay in place, do not spoil!
I wash my hair twice a day
Maybe when I am old, it would go grey
But for now the beauty is here to stay
I hope so, I definitely pray!
Beware all, take care
I love my hair, I love my hair
Don’t touch! But you can stare
You can stare at how I wear
My beautiful hair!
Try and out-do me if you dare!
I love my hair
I like to show it off
Around me do not sneeze or cough
Or with you I can be horribly tough
Around me do not sneeze or cough
If you don’t want to know the meaning of rough
I mean it, this isn’t a bluff!
I love my hair!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Watching Her Walk
Her presence moves
frail bent, head down
with a bow-strung gait
eyes fixed to pavement
Stopping, darting eyes
see something bothersome
a crack; a cautious step
moves her forward again
At first, heads turned
eyebrows cocked, curiously
watching her walk
watching that walk
A respectful 'hello Mary'
is usually heard
aging fast each year
less attentive
forgetful, slow
its a small town
people know.
Occasionally, a ride is offered
turned down... fearfully so
for dim eyes see strangers
if a familiar voice is heard
still, rides are waved off
with a polite, 'no thanks'
Now its just a kick of a can
to fourth Street and Beaver Avenue
where the once alluring presence
of the shapely young Slovak
with enchanting eyes
once played and walked
Back then, heads turned
captured eyes stared...
appraisingly
watching her walk
watching that walk
A relishing 'Hello-Mary'
was frequently heard
prettier each Year
un-assuming
un-forgetful
its a small town
young men know
Since then
much water has flowed
now she prays... always
praying and walking
especially...since Pete's gone
now up there...waiting
for her, she knows
Mary without Pete
This small town knows
She prays for us all
fervently
she prays for herself
un-knowingly
For the air, even
thanks are greatly given
by breathing deeply
Thank you Lord
for your air
that I breath
without knowing
each breath in
moves the right foot
each breath out
moves the left
A rhythmic cadence
a Prayer walking
is what is odd
This peculiar
gritty gait
is what
people
see.
Pete watches
from up there
looking down
watching her walk
watching that walk
His 'Hello My Mary'
is nearer each year,
Her presence is a bit
closer each year
Her tireless gait
takes that narrow way
up that well trod path
walk, un-forgetful
in a small mill town
its a small town
a town God knows
poem by George Vuyakovich
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Village Of Hopes And Dreams
As we all come upon a death of a certain loved one
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all lose the championship,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all fail a test, of which we tried so hard on,
We grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all walk in the rain the same, so sad
The mood of the storm changes us
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all cry the same with blood-shot eyes, hoping no one sees us,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all pray to God that this pain will stop,
We never think what we’ve down for him.
As I have lost something so great,
I lift my head to the sky
Pray to God that he will bless me with the opportunity
Of doing better next time.
As I learned from my elders the way you walk can tell a lot about yourself.
So I walk with my head up high, knowing God has sent his angels
To guide me in my path.
And if I did grief in the same way as others, with my head down.
I know that the Devil will be staring me down.
And as I walk home on this rainy day,
I pray that sunshine is on its way!
As I’ve cried in this stall,
I got on my knees and prayed to God to let these tears stop
With hopes and dreams I get from him,
Smiling each day because I know I am strong.
poem by Rachel Martin
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Leise Rieselt Der Schnee
Leise rieselt der schnee,
Still und starr liegt der see.
Winterlich glnzet der wald:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald!
In den herzen ists warm;
Still schweigt kummer und harm.
Sorge des lebens verhallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald.
Bald ist stille nacht.
Friede auf erden erwacht.
Horch nur, wie lieblich es schallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sidewalk Of Despair
If you chance to walk along
the sidewalk of despair
you will always find
a great many people there.
They are walking with heads bowed
as if in some great shame,
but they are only there
because their world is gone.
Some walk with money problems
so deep they figure they cannot get out;
others walk with heartaches
as their love has gone away.
Whatever the reason
they walk alone
unable to find an answer
along the sidewalk of despair.
16 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.
quote by Matthew Arnold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rainbow Man
He sang about hunger, poverty, suppression
Wrote for and played music with the Wailers
“Chase those crazy bald heads” his obsession
Rainbow blood made him a Social Activator
“One love, one heart…lets get together and feel alright”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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You don't find me too bald, do you? Old, and bald, and with a belly?
quote by Julio Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People Make The World Go Round
People...
(round and round and around...)
People make the world go round
(round and round and around...)
Teachers on strike, no more school today
They want more money but the board wont pay
People
Everybodys talkin bout ecology
The airs so polluted that its hard to breathe
People
Rrefrain
But thats what makes the world go round
The ups and downs a carousel
Changing peoples heads around
Go underground young men...
People make the world go round...
Old folks judge you by the clothes you wear
Theyd swear youre a hippy if you have long hair
Young politicians fight for poverty
While people still cry for equality
Refrain
But thats what makes the world go round
The ups and downs a carousel
Changing peoples heads around
Go underground young men...
People make the world go round...
(instrumental)
Refrain
But thats what makes the world go round
The ups and downs a carousel
Changing peoples heads around
Go underground young men...
People make the world go round...
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to Baldness
Heads that shine are “oh so fine”
And mostly trouble free
No hair to fly when wind is high
They’re always slick and neat
No hairspray or Brylcreem to buy
No brushes or pocket combs
And many ladies, I’ve heard it said,
Are fond of the old chrome dome
That must be why so many these days
Full heads of hair will shave
But, you can’t shave hair that isn’t there
I got mine the natural way
Now, you men of poetic métier
Whose hair has taken leave
Just write a verse if you’d care to link
With the bald headed poets’ league
Copyright C R Clark-3/2/2008
poem by C.R. Clark
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Better lose hair than head
Better ‘tis to lose hair than thine head,
As is between butter and bare bread;
If not a thing comes fair
Today, how can be hair?
So hail heads that bare are— bald, not dead!
____________________________________________
There is one thing worse, they say, than having a
bald pate— to be defensive, curse your fate. I was
not yet thirty when my hair began to be grey though
not thin. This was perhaps Nature's way of balancing
things as my face had badly tanned by the time I was
in my ‘teens. As the years added themselves to my
age the contrast only widened. But it was much
after I retired from paid work, the hairline began to
recede a bit. After all, a balance must be maintained.
This little ditty sums up my philosophy on hair.
________________________________________ ____________
-Tongue-in-cheek | 01.04.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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There Is A Reason To Be Rhymed
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
'May I hear that again,
From beginning to end.'
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
There's only one,
That can open wider...
A hooked and opened nose.
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
Where are the people who enjoyed doing,
Social things?
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
We are those people?
We are the people
WE THE PEOPLE.
We are those people?
We are the people
WE THE PEOPLE.
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
'May I hear that again,
From beginning to end.'
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
We are those people?
We are the people
WE THE PEOPLE.
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
We are those people?
We are the people
WE THE PEOPLE.
'May I hear that again,
From beginning to end.'
We are those people?
We are the people
WE THE PEOPLE.
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
All day all night here I stand.
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
All day all night here I stand.
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
And all day and all night,
And all day and all night the canvas expands.
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
There is a reason to be rhymed behind,
Everything!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Daisies
In the great green park with the wooden palings -
The wooden palings so hard to climb,
There are fern and foxglove, primrose and violet,
And green things growing all the time;
And out in the open the daisies grow,
Pretty and proud in their proper places,
Millions of white-frilled daisy faces,
Millions and millions--not one or two.
And they call to the bluebells down in the wood:
'Are you out--are you in? We have been so good
All the school-time winter through,
But now it's playtime,
The gay time, the May time;
We are out and at play. Where are you?'
In the gritty garden inside the railings,
The spiky railings all painted green,
There are neat little beds of geraniums and fuchsia
With never a happy weed between.
There's a neat little grass plot, bald in places,
And very dusty to touch;
A respectable man comes once a week
To keep the garden weeded and swept,
To keep it as we don't want it kept.
He cuts the grass with his mowing-machine,
And we think he cuts it too much.
But even on the lawn, all dry and gritty,
The daisies play about.
They are so brave as well as so pretty,
You cannot keep them out.
I love them, I want to let them grow,
But that respectable man says no.
He cuts off their heads with his mowing-machine
Like the French Revolution guillotine.
He sweeps up the poor little pretty faces,
The dear little white-frilled daisy faces;
Says things must be kept in their proper places
He has no frill round his ugly face -
I wish I could find his proper place!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Passing By
Close your eyes
Can't you see it's burning slow
Fading down the sparks of fire earth bound
Space in two
Warm beyond the love below
Close your eyes
It's time for us to go
Over our heads
Light keeps passing through
Over our heads
Lite from me to you
Falling down
Way beneath the healing skies
Rise and shine
The crying times left behind
Over our heads
All we see is true
Over our heads
Can't you see it too
Over our heads
Light keeps passing through
Over our heads
Lite from me to you
song performed by by Zero 7
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cravat Or Turkey Neck
The visible signs of ageing
the bald head
I've been nearly bald
since my early
twenties
the Friar Tuck grey hair
the last remnant
of a great teenage
Elvis pompadour
the turkey neck
I could disguise
with a cravat
but that's not me.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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I'm Just a Lost Baboon
I'm just a lost baboon,
In a zoo of monkeys.
I view the other animals encaged.
Some outraged with their manes,
Needing to be done.
I don't wish to be a leopard.
Or a tiger to make a hole in one.
Or a gazelle doing my version of a kangaroo!
To say I can also do a giraffe to startle everyone.
If I elected to!
I don't wish for brains like an elephant.
To have my tusk use for someone to play...
'We Are The World' on a piano.
To hear the laugh of hyenas...
Doing their best to sing in tune!
I'm just a lost baboon.
Not a drifting buffalo.
Nor do I wish to croon melodies with vultures.
And...
I roam this zoo looking for something to do!
Not caring who knows.
Until I find someone who declares...
'Hey you,
I am a baboon too!
Are you from South, East or West Africa? '
No...
I will respond.
Unfortunately not!
I was adopted very young.
And my heritage I forgot.
I've been educated to think!
And not look at myself baboonish!
And that has been a curse...
Thrusted upon me.
With memories I can not drop!
But I can hip hop and cha cha...
Although my rhythm is off.
And I can appear quite foolish!
I'm just a lost baboon
In a zoo of monkeys.
I view the other animals encaged.
Some outraged with their manes,
Needing to be done.
And I wear my dreads to be connected.
While others seem to have...
Not a trace of identity I can see.
And that to me...really stuns!
Weaves on heads.
With greasy curls and waves,
Paraded by everyone.
And bald heads too?
What is that all about?
Are they feeding an enslavement?
To enhance an acceptance...
Of an expressed freedom discussed,
But long tossed out! ?
I'm just a lost baboon...
Intellectualizing my gloom!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Walk A Mile In My Shoes
(words & music by joe south)
If I could be you, if you could be me
For just one hour, if we could find a way
To get inside each others mind
If you could see you through my eyes
Instead your own ego I believe youd be
I believe youd be surprised to see
That youve been blind
Walk a mile in my shoes
Just walk a mile in my shoes
Before you abuse, criticize and accuse
Then walk a mile in my shoes
Now if we spend the day
Throwin stones at one another
cause I dont think, cause I dont think
Or wear my hair the same way you do
Well, I may be common people
But Im your brother
And when you strike out
Youre tryin to hurt me
Its hurtin you, lord how mercy
Now there are people on reservations
And out in the ghetto
And brother there, but, for the grace of god
Go you and i,
If I only had wings of a little angel
Dont you know, Id fly
To the top of a mountain
And then Id cry, cry, cry
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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