Related quotes: her hair curls & coils...

her hair
curls & coils
like laughter made visible

haiku by Dónall Dempsey
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Related quotes

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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Girl in a Bar

You're so uncool
But I don't care,
Don't like cool girls....

You're no-one's fool,
You got those curls
And ringlets in your hair.

You sure ain't hip,
(Perhaps you're square!)
But I don't care,

You got those curls....

Come home with me,
We'll have some fun,
I'll shoot my gun,
And you can be my only one.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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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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Talking (and Singing) of the Nordic Man

Behold, my child, the Nordic man,
And be as like him, as you can;
His legs are long, his mind is slow,
His hair is lank and made of tow.

And here we have the Alpine Race:
Oh! What a broad and foolish face!
His skin is of a dirty yellow.
He is a most unpleasant fellow.

III

The most degraded of them all
Mediterranean we call.
His hair is crisp, and even curls,
And he is saucy with the girls.

poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Ice Cream Hair

My mom's hair is made of Chocolate Ice Cream.
My dad's hair is made of Mint Ice Cream.
My sister's hair is made of Vanilla Ice Cream.
My halve sister's hair is made of Strawberry Ice Cream.
My brother's hair is made of Coconut Ice Cream.
My halve brother's hair is made of Blue Berry Ice Cream.
My baby sister's hair is made of Banana Split Ice Cream.
What is my hair made out of?
All of the above,

and a hint of sprinkles; -) .

poem by Jasmine Aira
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Explorations: XXXV

in the dark chambers
of the inner being
lie coils and coils
of maya, alluring
and ensnaring...

we wait for that
streak of fleeting light
to illumine the chamber
and free us from the
enchanting net...

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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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
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A Child of Terror

A cobra coils in the eyes of
The little girl from sweet love city.
Her hair falls down in golden curls
But you mustn't stare
At the rifle on her shoulder
Or wonder why the games she plays are bolder
Than mere hide-and-seek and hopscotch.
Perhaps she'll tell you later
Why she likes to butcher soldiers
In the street and rob
Their bodies of useful ammunition.
Her parents told her
That freedom is worth fighting for
And death is less traumatic
As the heart grows colder.
One day she'll come to realise
That something deep inside her dies
With every life she takes away,
Eventually she'll have to pay
The price for shedding so much blood
In the name of some relentless God!
And so she'll weep and then she'll pray
That she'll wake up on some different day
And be forgiven for her crimes,
The harvest of these evil times.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Girls Were Made To Take Care Of Boys

Ralph blane
Girls were made to take care of boys
To be kind and dutiful
Hmmm...
Girls were made to take care of boys
Made to share their sorrows
Made to share their joys
Made to help and guide them
With ever a patient hand
Made to give affection
In the right direction
(always understand)
Now boys may think they take care of girls
Just because they pass on their fashions and their curls
But Ive always found
Its just the other way around
(other way around)
If you need the girl
And declare you do
(tell her that you need her)
Shell be there
To take care of you
(shell be there)
(now boys may think they take care of girls
Just because theyre clever with their fashions and their curls)
But Ive always found
Its just the other way around

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind Every Gross Appearance Has Invisible Subtle!

Isn't it true
neither moon nor universe, not
even I or you are visible without the
invisible in us.
Visible all are, only because of
that more invisible in us! Behind every visible gross
appearance, there is more
invisible subtle appearance,
When we look at the picture,
We usually forget the canvas,
When watching a TV program, usually we can't see how
invisible electrons produce the
image.

I cannot see my own face,
just as God hides his face to us...
Therefore, could it be that we
have one and the same face?

our face is one of His face,
Yet as he can look at his other
faces using one that he can't see,
We are looking at our other faces
using this one, That we can't see,
This is the truth that The God
uses this face to look at other
faces! Yet we visible to that invisible,
And we are visible only due to
that invisible ground on which
whole world play,
World itself is visible face of that
invisible face, Every life become visible only
because of that who hides is face
behind beauty and ugly faces
alike!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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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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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
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The Accentuated Curls

To twist around is a crime
It will distract the follicles
From being so sublime
The scissors dance around my curls
Waltzing through my particles
As barber John around me whirls
And sings- a jubilant, Italian song
And other barbers sign along
To juicy, creamy melodies,
While mirrors show my vanities

And carefree and distorted
The hair will be rewarded
With admiration from the rest
All people will boldly attest
That my hair is so wonderful,
That my hair is so beautiful,
That my hair has much grace
And it distracts from that hideous, grotesque face.

poem by Sasha Ioffine
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(For Dónall) Arrival

You're waiting
under the Arrivals board
in your flying black mac
(or magician's gown...
it's an academic distinction...)
your silver coils of curls
flowing from your worried frown.

And when the train at last
rocks and rolls me up to Platform Ten,
I'm running then, and running fast,
upstream of tired faces in grey suits
and I'm colliding with your warmth,
meeting your soft mouth
with my own eager kiss
and knowing that all day
we both have longed for this.

poem by Janice Windle
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Little Acorns

Take all your problems
And rip em apart
Carry them off
In a shopping cart
And another thing
You shouldve known from the start
The problems in hand
Are lighter than at heart
Be like the squirrel, girl
Be like the squirrel
Give it a whirl, girl
Be like the squirrel
And another thing
You have to know in this world
Cut up your hair
Straighten your curls
Well, your problems
Hide in your curls

song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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In Each Lock of Your Hair

I love the way your hair curls through
The ribbons and the gold;

It seems to me the laughter of children prancing
Around a Maypole,
With the hair-suited creatures out and pullulating:

This is something sincerely pagan-
It really doesn’t exist anymore,
And I try and mouth it to the briny star,
But the traffic roars and pulls
Filled with things too fast to care,
True and modern gods to plush and placate to,

But it exists in your hair in this time,
The cheerless castles and their wan girls,
Their grotto’s water-dragon’s aquatic swirls, the spume of
Fairies in the waves
Make invisible phosphorescent too ephemeral
To be proved,

But every paraplegic scientist who keeps close-lipped
To secret renunciations of every entire hemisphere,
Deep in the night, tremulous- brought out in
The dark empiricism of somnolent senses,

Knows beyond theorem, beyond the dire motherhood of the grave,
And slinging star of death; beyond the rhythmic chaos of the waves,
The proof of things which shall never be reclaimed
All a glimmer and alive in each lock of your hair.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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I Love My Man

Billie holiday
I love my man
On my life i say i don't
I love my man
On my life i say i don't
But i'll quit my man
On my life i say i won't
I've been your slave baby
Ever since i've been your way
I've been your slave
Ever since i've been your faith
But before i be your dog
I'll see you in your grave
My man wouldn't give me no breakfast
Wouldn't give me no dinner
Squacked about my supper
Then he put me outdoors
Heaven erred to late
A matchbox on my clothes
I didn't have so many
But i had a long long ways to go
I ain't good looking
And my hair ain't curls
I ain't good looking
And my hair ain't curls
But my mother she give me something
It's going to carry me through this world
Some man like me 'cuz i'm happy
Some 'cuz i'm snappy
Some call me honey
Others think i've got money
Some say billie
Baby you're built for speed
Now if you put that altogether
Makes me everything a good man needs