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Poems On / About HAIR  7/27/2016 2:11:18 PM
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  157.     

Oh Who Is That Young Sinner

Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?
And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists?
And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air?
Oh they're taking him to prison for the color of his hair.

'Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his;
In the good old time 'twas hanging for the color that it is;
Though hanging isn't bad enough and flaying would be fair
For the nameless and abominable color of his hair.

Oh a deal of pains he's taken and a pretty price he's paid
To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
But they've pulled the beggar's hat off for the world to see and stare,
And they're taking him to justice for the color of his hair.

Now 'tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet,
And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat,
And between his spells of labor in the time he has to spare
He can curse the God that made him for the color of his hair.
 
Alfred Edward Housman

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Read more: hair poems, justice poems, nature poems, time poems, world poems, god poems
   
 

   
   
 

  158.     

Hair And The Statue

My hair smells like doll's hair tonight.
What a strange scent.
Did it gather all my dreams of escaping?
Out...of this room, this house, this city, this country, this life...
I pictured you as a sad cold statue in a park. I wanted you there to visit when I wanted...
You could not react
I'd touch your face, reach near you...gaze at the stone you've become
I'd slap you...
and leave...then come back
smile at the superpower of having you at my request
the stone you are now
my hair smells like doll's hair today
I want you no more
I want no one no more
I want the freedom which interestingly enough is a statue, too.
I've found out at young age, when I'd prepare Turkish coffee for my mom
a hair would fall in the fire...
when it didn't happen, I'd pull one off just to see it burn, smell it.
I want no one no more,
tired
I'll destroy the statue of you in the park
 
Nesa Llapashtica

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  159.     

I Am Mollie

I am mollie with frizzy hair and princess eyes
I wonder who I'll love when I'm older
I hear school bells and locker doors slamming
I see my sibling growing up
I want to do well in life
I am mollie with frizzy hair and princess eyes

I pretend I am a vampire warrior princess
I feel misunderstood by everyone around me
I touch my little sister's soft hair
I worry about relationships with the people I love
I cry when I think of leaving my family
I am mollie with frizzy hair and princess eyes

I understand that I'll have to grow up sometime
I say that I will eventually, but not now
I dream of becoming a wife, and a mother
I try to be a good daughter
I hope that all dogs go to heaven
I am mollie with frizzy hair and princess eyes
 
mollie myers

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  160.     

Honey Brown Locks

HONEY BROWN HAIR

Honey dew, rays of sunshine fall upon
the silk of your shiny hair,
gently illuminating it in all
its radiant glory,

Woken up by nature`s rays, the warm
water cascades, washes tangles away so creams
and lotions beautify the flowing mass
of sensuous, surging waves
that I soon run my fingers through as I
blow dry, with you sitting on my lap,

Soon we lie on red satin sheets
And I whisper 'I love you'
As I thread a pink rose
Through those curls and waves.
So soon, gently kissing your curvaceous cheeks, lips, neck,
then I brush your hair lovingly, luxuriously,
in slow motion as we move to the jacuzzi
- a mirror above us........

If you would like your own personalized poem about your hair, please describe your hair to me, or if you would like this dream to come true and are ready for a loving, serious relationship, please let me know at richmuirhead@ntlworld.com
 
Richard Muirhead

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