Hair Down
She will wear her hair down
Because she is tired to weaar her heir in a knot
And she looks much better with her hair down in my oppinion
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Related quotes
Hair
Wide cheeks? Let the hair hide the ears.
Broad forehead? Let the hair spills in front.
Dwarf neck? Let the hair in knot be up.
Lanky figure? Let the hair falls on shoulders.
Hair being dense is an asset to woman
27.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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Ponytail Girl
Ponytail girl, twirl your hair
So that all may know
Your shiny flair.
Ponytail girl, you don't care
That people always question
How you wear that hair.
Ponytail girl, may I ask?
If your hair were any other way,
Would it be like a mask?
Ponytail girl,
I'd just like to say,
I hope you wear that hair
Just as proudly each day.
poem by Amelia Patterson
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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)
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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YOU WEAR MY KISSES IN YOUR HAIR(for Jan)
You wear
my kisses
in your hair
invisible
to everyone
but us
they glisten
like emotional jewelry
bloom like flowers
of desire
you wear
my kisses
in your hair
smiling secretly
to your self
as to how
they got there
& to where
the other kisses
...are!
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Lookism
Black hair,
Blonde hair,
Brown hair,
And blue,
Earrings,
And nose rings,
And belly rings too,
Skinny jeans,
Baggy jeans,
Purple checkered and
Colored jeans too.
Looks and more looks
Are everywhere you look.
Their on TV
And in real life.
They are in church
And on the street.
We’re always concerned with our looks cuz they are all around.
They define
Loser
And punk
To preppy and
Rich.
What you look like describes your personality.
But why?
If you where tight jeans why must you be skater?
Of if you wear your hair black,
Why must you be punk or Goth?
It is all just in our heads,
You can wear tight jeans and be Goth,
Or black hair and be prep,
Why are looks so defining?
Because we make them so.
Why do people do this?
Hell if I know.
It is all just a mirage.
None of its real.
So why are looks such a big deal?
Why do we try and make believe,
If you look like that then you must be this?
There is no point to this strange behavior.
So lets stop this lookism and just get to someone despite how they look.
poem by BlackXWhiteFeathers Raven Mendez
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Heir Apparent
I came back to my old city
With fierce determination
And I couldnt find my way out of the station
Its all changed
You were there
Departing, starting
A trek I had once took
With that no-ones gonna stop me when I feel this way look
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You think its so easy, I tell you - it isnt
But you may change minds with your winning smile
I fell down in my old city
Such sad degradation
So I tried to make my way back to the station
You were still there
Gleaming and leaving
Wide-eyed and awestruck
Saying how can anybody hate me
If I love them first off ?
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You think its so easy, I tell you - it isnt
But you may change minds with your winning smile
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
But you may be ok, I dont know
Ill see you back here
In a few bruised years
Pray
Ill see you here
Ill see you here
Ill see you here
Apparent, apparent
Heir apparent
You say that you want it, Im sure that youll get it
Theyll seduce your heart and then theyll slap your arse
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
Heir, heir, heir
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Aish is all graceful
Be in ultra modern jeans, with hair cropped,
Be in curves with a bikini, with hair cascading,
Be in swimming suit, with hair dripping,
Be in top and middy, with hair thrown back,
Be in velvet chudidhar, with hair hiding the cheeks,
Be in saree and blouse, with hair loosely knotted,
Be with chemise on breasts, with hair permed and ornamented,
Be on cotton saree, with hair made to bun,
Be in half saree and blouse, with hair tightly plaited,
Or be in any fashion that comes into being,
The actress Aish is blooming and beaming,
What not is the fashion or style for Aish, all the grace?
19.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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MO CAILIN ALAINN RUA(My Beautiful Red Haired Girl) /RED RIVER/WEARING HER HAIR - Sequence
MO CAILIN ALAINN RUA
(My Beautiful Red Haired Girl)
Your hair
taken by the wind
blown
into flame
a fiery red
Medussa
standing on
the edge
of this
mountain
a world
turned to stone
as if your gaze
froze this landscape
into place.
I too
still as stone
your hair
flaring up into the air
fiery snakes
like thoughts
bursting out of your mind
fighting the sunset
that only
a small box camera
captures
& contains
this photo
cutting off your head
from the rest of you
mythical
untouchable
mo cailin alainn rua
mo cailin alainn rua.
***
RED RIVER
Your hair
trickles down your back
in curls...curls
curl after curl
rivers of ringlets
cascading down your spine.
I want to drown
in the waters of your hair.
You wear a waterfall
over each shoulder
The fiery flames
of your tresses
crashing over thigh & hip & buttock!
My hands
like fishes
swimming all over
your body
splashed with the beauty
of your hair
touching & touching
the sheer
nakedness
of
you.
***** **
WEARING HER HAIR
You stand
before me
dressed only
in the dress
that your hair
weaves about you
naked
yet
not
you wear
your hair
as a magical
garment
from a half remembered half forgotten fairytale.
You undress
throwing your hair over each shoulder
I come to you as if a spell
commanded me to & you
wrap me
in your hair.
Both our
nakedness
wearing your hair
sheltered here
lost amongst
kisses.
***
A fellow poet(well, it wasn't a fella) divulged that she too was red of the hair(this had been unknown to me) and so this homage to redheads came into being just on this wisp of information...the memories and images flood back into being.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Baldly Stated
I use to wear it centre parted.
But now alas it has departed
When I was young I had thick hair
but now my head’s completely bare.
I wear a hat against the sun
a sunburnt scalp is not much fun.
The only plus that I can see
I need not pay a barbers fee
nor spend my money on shampoo
As hirsute men are forced to do.
A sign of masculinity
they say though I would rather be
Possessor of a well thatched head
than one from which all hair has fled.
1-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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To Prepare for You
To prepare for you
I scrub the soles of my feet
and cut my toenails.
I wash and brush my hair
Flicking it out with my fingers
so each strand will dry fast and sweet
in the breeze of the ceiling fan.
I smooth oil on my elbows, thighs, and knees;
brushing oil from my palms
over my nipples
so they’ll stick to your fingers.
I wrap myself in a silky sarong
choose a cunning earring
which will jangle in your bed
when I shake my hair over you.
Will you notice that I’ve cut my hair?
One side is longer than the other
but I won’t neaten it.
I’ll wear the earring on the long side.
I streak perfume through my hair.
Bought near the Jain temple
in Udaipur
palest green scent distilled from a root
dissolved in oil of sandalwood
Last time I left you
I could smell you in my hair all day.
poem by Kaye Aldenhoven
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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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Sleep, darling
Sleep, darling
I have a small
daughter called
Cleis, who is
like a golden
flower
I wouldn't
take all Croesus'
kingdom with love
thrown in, for her
---
Don't ask me what to wear
I have no embroidered
headband from Sardis to
give you, Cleis, such as
I wore
and my mother
always said that in her
day a purple ribbon
looped in the hair was thought
to be high style indeed
but we were dark:
a girl
whose hair is yellower than
torchlight should wear no
headdress but fresh flowers
The barbar down the lane
Most time as much a scissor talk
Call for long legs and hair walk
A thing that happens all the time
To every pocket that has least a dim
The man change a hair one
With smile and happiness morning in line
A hair enters and 'voom' disappears
The man inside with hair on repairs
Our barbar down the lane
Is a man with no shame
My hair I dedicate to him
And mine is down with all vim
The everday I wish to enter
And embrass the comb in my hair
This then I know it him
The barbar down the lane
poem by Henry Nii Ayi Cobblah
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There was this thing written that I had gone into a candle store, and my hair went up in flames because of all the hair spray. First of all, I never have hair spray in my hair, and I've never even heard of this store, and my hair has never been burned.
quote by Nicolette Sheridan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bread Hair
Im a wigged-out daddy with bread on top
I dig an easy-bake granny with a whiskey mop
If you love me, you neednt the whole wheat crop
cause they had a useless battle andll never stop
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Im a pumpernickel-do for you, dough you do
Use a yarmulka of hallah bread if youre a jew
I belong to cayope*, I be the wheat for you
Yeast and flour, bake an hour, its annoying shampoo
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Drivin all my hope away
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Thats a gone rug, buddy
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Entangled in Her Hair
Her hair
covers my face
she
kisses my mouth
kisses my kisses.
She chuckles.
I stroke her hair.
She sways &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my chest.
She
titillates a nipple
...it tickles.
I run my fingers
through her hair.
She sashays &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my navel
& there...&
there...abouts!
I…almost beside myself
neither...here...nor... there...
Lost in the anywhere
of an everywhere.
I clutch
her hair.
She shimmies &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my crotch.
She
licks it
into shape.
She
goes to say
something
it’s on
the tip of
her tongue.
But, she says nothing
only: “Mmmmm...! ”
& smiles
...smiles.
I close
my eyes.
My hands
entangled in
her hair.
*******
TREAD SOFTLY
We rest on the bed
your head rests against my head
sharing the same dream.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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