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Poems On / About HAIR  9/1/2014 3:58:22 PM
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  81.     

Bad Hair Day (Free Style)

Oh no when I woke up this morning I wasn't feeling well and
Then when I looked in front of my mirror I got so stressed
What did I look but that my whole hair was just standing
On ends and that it was in a whole mess, and I was depressed.

Why did this had to happen to me
I haven't done anything wrong anyway
But just went to sleep for a few hours and
Now I am just having a very bad hair day.

Oh please someone just hurry and help me
A little bit, because i dont really know what to do
My hair is in such a bad shape that not even all
Those fancy gel and mousse can help and I am in a stew.

My hair is standing all on edge, and is all dried up and have frizz
And every strand of hair is out of place, and is all tangled up there today,
That not even my comb can run through in there and most of its teeth
Just broke off and now I am about to cry because I'm having a bad hair day!
 
Dorian Petersen Potter

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  82.     

Shinning gem's

so special is your hair
without
a seconds and
a countless of gesture, your
fingers wish
to touch

your glooming
hair
in your head
looking back the comb
that splashes the
thinned
shinning hair, as it flashes

all the oily
smooth curly strands, where
between its
length
the little tiny lies wish
to reach
the bottom
views of the beautiful
hair

my bosom friend
love to settle
her magnificent glows of gems
I kept it a
blinks for a while, tempted
to smell

wondering what
would it be, yet!
so fulfilling
to
blow the wind
dazzling to reach the
alluring hair

of my beloved
friend, the only precious
gems she
possess until, the beautiful
angelic hair lost it’s
fragrance of
existence, a glimpse of
dust mesmerize

the memories of the YOU
 
Antonio Liao

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  83.     

Brilliantine

This hair,
They never looked her way,
Never understood from where she came
And digressed on the story of the grease
In her hair.
There was none.
They never touched her face,
Looked her way,
Nor saw importance in the moment
When she needed one
To hold her hand.
Or take the time for her
When it was called for.
It was the glossy brilliantine.
And the hidden styling.
The face again,
Which had the tendency to glance away.
And the hair which had no grease.
The clear hair that shone of cleanliness
In the light of the dirty windows.
The brown hair
Giving importance to the chrome
Of her eyes.
But they never looked away,
Digressing on the story of the grease
In her hair.
 
Sammy Edrisi

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  84.     

This Morning At The Barbershop

This morning at the barbershop,
a barber is busy with the hair
of a much older grey haired man
that he is trimming neatly
and a young man
sits in one of the barber’s chairs.

When I sit down to wait
the young man rises
turning to me
and asks if he can cut my hair.

I was happy to get attention immediately
while the other barber was finishing
with the older man,
as he looks to finely tuned to me.

My hair was smartly cut
with a pair of scissors
and the young barber
held his fingers
to determine the length
and I wanted it shorter
than just cutting off the ends

while the other barber
first took a hair blower
from a drawer,
sprayed something over his own hair
before he started to blow it in the mirror
and he then said
that he cannot go
to the bank to wait in line
with a head looking like Tut’s ass

and I saw my locks
falling dark brown
with dots of grey around me
and saw the other barber
combing his long hair
and smiled at myself
about the vanity of humanity
while I looked at myself
and were starting to look much better.
 
Gert Strydom

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