Your Hair Dreams
Your hair
(fine as a baby’s fine)
so soft
softly
your hair
falls asleep
before the rest
of you.
Your hair
dreams of being
stroked
caressed.
The rest of you
follows suit
& soon
all of you
is sleeping.
Your hair
dreaming of my hands.
Your body
dreaming of my hands.
Dream & Reality
merging.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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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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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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Tonight I Draw Your Hair
Tonight I draw your hair,
A hair of simplicity,
With a mysterious beauty,
That no one can ever resist,
A hair that blooms with the sun,
That always shines every sunrise,
And turns into deep black at sunset,
A hair of smooth silk,
That touches my face like a baby,
And comforts my soul into a sleeping baby,
Like the lullaby that can put me into sleep,
Your hair blooms unlike any other.
-GanNi
poem by Geovanni Leaño
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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
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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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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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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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)
Dreaming From The Waist (live)
Townshend)
I feel like I want to break out of the house
My heart is pumping, I've got sin in my mouth
I feel like I'm heading up to a cardiac arrest
I want to scream in the night, I want a manifest
I've got that wide awake, give-and-take, five o'clock-in-the-morning feeling
I got the hots for the sluts in the well found pages of the magazines
I want to drive, want to fly like I do in the dreams I've never really been in
I want to hump, want to jump, want to heat up, cool down in a dream machine
I'm dreaming ... from the waist on down
I'm dreaming ... but I feel tired and bound
I'm dreaming ... of a day when a cold shower helps my health
I'm dreaming ... dreaming - of the day I can control myself
Day I can control myself
Sound like a priest and then I'm shooting dice
I'm burning tires with some guy whose hair is turning white
I know the girls that I pass, they just ain't impressed
I'm too old to give up, but too young to rest
I've got that numb-to-a-thumb over-dubbed
Feeling social when the world is sleeping
The plot starts to thicken then I sicken and I feel I'm cemented down
I'm so juiced at the bar
And a lady's sad sad story has me quietly weeping
But here comes the morning
Here comes the yawning demented clown
I'm dreaming ... but I know it's all hot air
I'm dreaming ... I'll get back to that rocking chair
I'm dreaming ... of the day I can share the wealth
I'm dreaming ... dreaming - of the day I can control myself
Day I can control myself
Hey, hey!
The day I can control myself
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Wet Hair Feels Cool on My Skin
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin
As she came fresh from the shower.
She lies near me and rest begins.
Her whispers soft, a quiet wind
Caress my senses for an hour.
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin.
I’m at peace more than ever when
I lay down with her in her bower,
She lies near me and rest begins.
Now love’s sensations lie within
A subtle simple touch of power-
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin.
She holds my heart fast with a grin
Delicately, like a flower.
She lies near me and rest begins.
I say that now if this be sin
I don’t in fear of death cower.
Her wet hair feels cool on my skin:
She lies near me and rest begins.
2009
poem by William Mcgehee
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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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Suffocation
Last night I had the weirdest dream
I dreamt that I was lying in bed
With this girl whose hair was
As black as the night and as
Thick as a forest,
And her hair, her hair was
Smothering me
Or at least, I thought it was
Her hair,
Until I noticed it was her hands
Running over my face,
My lips
My eyes
My cheeks.
As hot as the desert
And smooth as silk
But pressing down
Pressing me into my pillow
Until I could see nothing
But the pink of her skin
And I thought,
Im gunna die
Those hands are gunna
Kill me
Until I realized really,
It wasn’t hands,
But lips,
Sucking the air from mine
Engulfing my last breath
And drawing it into her being
And I thought, well,
At least lips are
A nice way to go
Until finally I came
To my goddamn senses
And I realized,
I realized it wasn’t her lips
But the words coming
From those sweet lips
That was suffocating me
And it was “I love you”
I was choking on
Not her hair, hands or lips
At all.
poem by Nick Downer
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Dreaming
Breezes soft as an angels kiss
caress the sleeping maiden’s hair.
Whilst she is lost in dreams of bliss.
Reality cannot compare
with the sweet dreams of innocents.
Who have not yet met with heartache
or suffered from life’s accidents.
Alas too soon she’ll have to wake
to face up to reality
and leave her childish dreams behind.
In pursuit of her destiny.
She too will learn to plot and scheme.
To try to make her dreams come true.
Just as the rest of us must do.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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For Ariana Campbell
just a girl
blue glass windows
for a dizzy world
catching sun
in her hair
running
without fear
without care
little girl
with sapphire dreams
sunlight ribbons
in her hair
kisses for mother
kisses for father
hands for holding
to soothe all fears
precious girl
your day will come
to dance like lilies
under the sun
dreaming like kittens
and sugarcane tongues
my darling girl
your day will come
poem by Alexandre Arnau
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A Leave-Taking
She will not smile;
She will not stir;
I marvel while
I look on her.
The lips are chilly
And will not speak;
The ghost of a lily
In either cheek.
Her hair--ah me!
Her hair--her hair!
How helplessly
My hands go there!
But my caresses
Meet not hers,
O golden tresses
That thread my tears!
I kiss the eyes
On either lid,
Where her love lies
Forever hid.
I cease my weeping
And smile and say:
I will be sleeping
Thus, some day!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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In Resisting
in resisting you
your breaths so near my nostrils
your hands
warming my hands
your hair blown by this
scented air
from your eyes
silently too
gazing
sizing what i may give you
i gently
lift your hands
away from my hands
shy away from your hair
trying to entwine
some locks of my hair
i waft the scented
air away from
my nostrils
i gaze away
from your gaze
i walk a step farther
away from you
i become a boat
my mind like paddles
sailing away from you
against the current
i begin to feel
that i am a rock
in the middle
of this raging river
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Terrapin
==============================
Smashing Pumpkins - Terrapin
==============================
I really love you, and I mean you,
The star above you, crystal blue
Well, oh baby, my hair's on end about you
I wouldn't see you, and I love to,
I fly above you, yes I do,
Well, oh baby my hair's on end about you
Floating, bumping, noses dodge a tooth
The fins a luminous
Fangs all 'round the clown is dark
Below the boulders hiding
All the sunlight's good for us
Cause we're the fishes, and all we do
The move about is all we do
Well oh baby my hair's on end about you
I really love you, and I mean you,
The star above you, crystal blue
Well, oh baby, my hair's on end about you
Well, oh baby, my hair's on end about you
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Distant Worlds
who does not like to put some
yellow daisies on your black glossy hair?
you become so beautiful with a chain of yellow
daisies in your hair
where i can possibly touch them and caress them
and how would you know that this is more than just putting a chain of
daisies in your black hair?
you shall never know and that is good enough for me
for i am the simplest man that puts those chain of yellow daisies in your hair
no prince charming for you, nothing special
just another common friend putting those usual yellow daisies in your hair
when our hands touch by accident
how would you know that i have become a forest burning?
this burning fire that is softly killing me
how would you know? your world is open and mine is closed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waiting For You (Sestina)
The tangled wood reminds me of your hair -
dark like the night and falling in whispers.
Kneeling underneath the sheltering pines,
I sip silence and stroke the memories.
You have long been gone, and I miss your hands,
slipping through the long sleeves of languid love.
Time is a leaf on the branch of our love,
curled in the corners of your chestnut hair
and falling like sand through hourglass hands.
Wind strokes my back and quietly whispers.
Stars float down a dark sky of memories,
their bright pulse like beacons above the pines.
Thus hangs the moon, suspended among pines,
promising brighter days showered with love;
but for now, I live in the memories.
I braid a blue blossom into my hair,
its fragrance wafting like weary whispers,
spider-spun silk in the palm of my hands.
I remember how you captured my hands,
held them within the shadow of the pines,
and kissed them soft as butterfly whispers.
It was then that I knew I was in love,
when you gently stroked the length of my hair,
now curled within the moonlight memories.
Moonlight makes magic of the memories,
within the palms of her shimmering hands,
and she sprinkles starlight throughout my hair.
Initials are carved in one of the pines
within a whimsical heart made with love
and sanctified with undying whispers.
The past unfolds in wandering whispers,
ushered through the gate of my memories.
I write a letter of undying love,
hold it like seeds in the palm of my hands,
and plant it with a kiss beneath the pines
as the wind looses a wisp of my hair.
The pale wings of my love move like whispers,
tangling in your hair like memories
captured within your hands beneath the pines.
poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Somewhere They Can Find Me
I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love
As she lies here beside me, asleep with the night
And her hair in a fine mist floats on my pillow
Reflecting the glow of the winter moonlight
But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me
Oh baby, you don't know what I've done
I've committed a crime, I've broken the law
While you were here sleeping and just dreaming of me
I held up and robbed a liquor store
But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me
Oh my life seems unreal, my crime an illusion
A scene badly written in which I must play
And though it puts me uptight to leave you
I know it's not right to leave you
The morning is just a few hours away
But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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