Related quotes: If You Can Do Hair...

If You Can Do Hair With Flair

If You Can Do Hair With Flair

If you can do hair
and do it with flair

Be somebody
Be yourself

Styles of an old rendition,
Adding to a new edition

Tints and dyes
For wows and oh mys

Braids
Weaves
Cuts
Trims

To the left
To the right

Curls
Swirls

If you can do hair
And do it with flair

Be Somebody
Be Yourself

by Alfreda Doyle

poem by Alfreda Doyle
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Related quotes

Ive Got A Flair

Ive got a flair
For pulling your hair
And making you crazy
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I do well
Ive got a flair
For making you care
You know you should hate me
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I do well
Well you know I never meant to hurt no one
But I got a knack for getting things undone
And I got a way of ruining your fun
All the time
Ive got a flair
For holding a stare
And holding you downtown
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I can tell
Well you know I never meant to hurt no one
But I got a knack for getting things undone
And I got a way of ruining your fun
All the time
Ive got a flair
For getting in your hair
And making you crazy
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I do well
Its something I do well
Its something I do well

song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hairy

is it my hair?
or my flair?
is it my chair?
or my glare?
come closer
whisper to my ear
be mine, dear.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Polka Patterns

Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Lets go into the bathroom
I know were in a room where you would not expect much math
Usually youre in here for a shower or a bath
But if you gaze upon the floor, and if youre kinda smart
Youll see the repetition is like geometric art
Wow, haha
Look
Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Hey!
A polkameister like myself never has to be bored
I just grab my ax and play some patterns on my keyboard
Nows the time for earplugs if you care about your health
So stand back, everybody, Im gonna express myself
Look at this, patterns
Ive got blisters on my fingers
Woo, hey, aw, get down
Yeah, help me, somebody, woo
Still there? okay
Next time you find yourself at an exciting polka party
You can make some patterns with your feet and with your body
If you dont know the steps yet, heres the gang with all the answers
Ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the weird al polka dancers
Here they are
Everywhere, we see them there
We stop and stare at patterns
We dont care, we must declare
Weve got a flair for patterns
On our hair, the clothes we wear
Our savoir faire is patterns
All we see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Wallpaper, skyscrapers, funny papers, patterns
Evergreens, nouvelle cuisine, human beings, patterns
Garden rakes, wedding cakes, rattlesnakes, patterns
Golden wheat, little feet, my heartbeat
I gotta stop
Patterns, patterns, patterns, patterns

song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flair Of A Romance

A new environment,
A new life,
A new heaven!
The flair of a romance is what i bring to you;
Like a stair case full of hope.
The flair of a romance,
Walking up and down the stairs!
Listen to the joy of a muse that i bring to you.

Posit,
Tell me why?
love from the Blue River where,
All the fingers are not equal.
Of the romanti night with the plastic,
Of the true love that i share with you;
'Rickmer Rickmers', 'Cap San Diego' and 'James Caird I';
She gave me the apple and i ate it.
'Titanic', Santa Maria', 'Chesapeake' and 'Bulgaria';
All the days are not equal.
'Japanese Prince', Alte Liebe' and James Caird II';
love is like the waterside beauty with a romance.

Let's sail on with 'S.A. Van der Stel',
The flair of a romance with,
Impressions from the sea of love to touch you all;
Sail on the Alster and the Elbe alike to gain a view.
Love from the Blue River where,
All the fingers are not equal;
A new environment is all that you need on this love.

The flair of a romance,
Life is like the sleepless night in St. Pauli;
The flair of a romance,
Life is with its tides to touch you;
She gave me he apples and i ate it.
To the four winds i do respect like,
The flair of a romance in anew heaven!

Love and romance,
Apples ans bananas;
What a day of joy to share with you.
A water source became a river,
The river later became a lake;
She gave me the apples and i ate it!
The lake became a sea,
The sea became an ocean on this love;
For the flair of a romance,
The birds sang for joy on this love.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Former Rose Of Casterton

From Casterton in Victoria she lives far away
With hair dyes and hair tints does she hide her gray?
With shoulder length dark hair and lovely eyes of brown
She was a former Rose of Casterton Town.

In her prime she was one lovely to behold
But now in her late fifties she is getting old
Did she marry, mother children or lead a single life
For some lucky fellow she would have been a beautiful wife.

The wanderlust in her and when she was nineteen
She left and in Casterton was never more seen
The Rose of Glenelg and Casterton's Pride
She was missed from the Town in the brown countryside.

With anti ageing creams and hair dyes does she cloak time's decay
For she surely has known a far better day
Good memories of her with those who knew her to this day remain
Though in Casterton she never may be seen again.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loneliness song

I’m lonesome since I tope the hill and lore the moor and valley
Such heavy thought my heart does fill, since parting without my sally
I sick no more the fine or gay but the one to love me
Her golden hair in ringlet flair
Her slender waste will bind me

poem by Mthokozisi Ntokozo Maphumulo
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Lust is life

As a youth, you have enough flare
To draw women and be drawn to them.
Past forty, you gain much flair
To seek women than being sought.
Past sixty, you regain much flair
To corner women but get no response..
You end as a voyeur in the end.
With that your worldly pleasure ends.
19.02.2000, Palakkad

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's The Flair That's There

It's not one's style that corrupts.
Or what one does to give up,
To crucial benefit.

It's not the touches so much,
That others can't get enough...
To crucial benefit.

It's the flair that's there,
Offends and people perceive.

It's not one's style that corrupts.
Or what one does to give up,
That others can't get enough...
To crucial benefit.

It's the flair that's there,
That sickens weakened people.
It's the flair that's there,
That sickens weakened people.
It's the flair that's there,
Offends and people perceive.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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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My prayers

I touched your cold hands
hands that worked the land
caressed your tousled hair
hair that had known flair
kissed your silent lips
lips that sweet secrets keep

My prayers in vain
tears leaving stain

Your words lodged themselves
deep in the crevices and shelves
awaiting the moment of freedom
to shine in the kingdom

I touched her little hands
hands that hold no plan
caressed her soft hair
hair that dances in the air
kissed her sweet lips
lips that smile at the tips

My prayers in pain
soul bare lain

Her laughter clear as bells
chasing away spells
dispersing shadows with her light
casting wrongs putting them right

Your words came flying back
Have faith tho thee lack
it will sustain thee
in life without plea

My prayers in gratitude
love in servitude

poem by Jaan Zhou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carol's Bright Smile

Carol with her sparkly eyes, always has a great big smile.
Happy to see me even when she's blue,
she is sincere person through and through.
Carol is supportive of my writing for she is a loving soul,
Carol compliments me to bring me up when I'm low.
Carol thought of me at Christmastime,
she is very giving and kind.
Carol is always busy and on the go,
she helps her family who loves her so.
Carol loves her grandchild who lives quite near,
she babysits her grandchild when she's here.
Carol has style and dresses quite slick,
she goes out dressed fashionably chick.
I always love how Carol does her hair,
either a ponytail, loose curls with a flair.
Carol's from Boston and soon will go back,
her bright sunshine is what the Dorchester will lack.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on February 5,2012

poem by Christina Sunrise
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This Stuff Ain't Fresh

This stuff ain't fresh.
Just restated.
Updated to give it flair.
The same minds will ignore it.
And the proof will be there.

The rhythm changes.
With the same words repeated.
The beat is felt.
With those patting their feet.
A monotony delivers,
An expectation.
Yet no one will listen...
With dulled sensations.