Best Hair Poems

A young spring-tender girl
combed her joyous hair
'You are very ugly' said the mirror.
But,
...

I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
An obnoxious tuba playing at noon because our team
Was going to win at night. The teachers were
...

On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
...

One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamor of the city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley. I pursued the beckoning course of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from the touching the earth.

I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul - my thirsty soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness.
...

The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
...

Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll!- a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river;
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?- weep now or nevermore!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
...

I've come by, she says, to tell you
that this is it. I'm not kidding, it's
over. this is it.
I sit on the couch watching her arrange
...

Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven't they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
...

Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?
Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,
Drooping tongues from jays that slob their relish,
Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked?
...

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
...

And the weaver said, 'Speak to us of Clothes.'

And he answered:
...

1. Take a shower you don't want to smell.
2. Pick out an outfit that will blend in with the latest trends and won't make you a laughing stock of the school more than you already are

3. Put on some makeup so you can't even recognize yourself and your face tingles with an unbelievable issue. You can't satisfy otherwise you'll have ruined the hours of meticulous painting you apply to your face.
...

Two knights rode forth at early dawn
A-seeking maids to wed,
Said one, "My lady must be fair,
With gold hair on her head."
...

Even the man who is happy
glimpses something
or a hair of sound touches him
...

My skin is kind of sort of brownish
Pinkish yellowish white.
My eyes are greyish blueish green,
But I'm told they look orange in the night.
...

'I thought you loved me.' 'No, it was only fun.'
'When we stood there, closer than all?' 'Well, the harvest moon
Was shining and queer in your hair, and it turned my head.'
'That made you?' 'Yes.' 'Just the moon and the light it made
...

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
...

Sleep, darling
I have a small
daughter called
Cleis, who is
...

Hair-braided chestnut,
coiled like a lyncher's rope,
Eyes-fagots,
Lips-old scars, or the first red blisters,
...

When the moon was full they came to the water.
some with pitchforks, some with rakes,
some with sieves and ladles,
and one with a silver cup.
...

Your hair is lost in the forest,
your feet touching mine.
Asleep you are bigger than the night,
but your dream fits within this room.
...

I

Behold, my child, the Nordic man,
And be as like him, as you can;
...

My Pillow gazes upon me at night
Empty as a gravestone;
I never thought it would be so bitter
To be alone,
...

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined
...

This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
...

Beautiful star with the crimson lips
And flagrant daffodil hair,
Come back, come back, in the shaking ships
...

...

When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.
...

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
we drink it and drink it
we are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie there
...

.
the girl waited beneath the golden tree
the golden tree shaped like a vase
a vase of golden leaves
...

'You are old, father William,' the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
...

While the long grain is softening
in the water, gurgling
over a low stove flame, before
the salted Winter Vegetable is sliced
...

'Oh, dear with best thighs, heart-stealing is this environ with abundantly grown stacks of rice and their cobs, or with sugarcane, and it is reverberated with the screeches of ruddy gees that abide hither and thither... now heightened will be passion, thereby this season will be gladdening for lusty womenfolk, hence listen of this season, called Shishira, the Winter...

'At this time, people enjoy abiding in the medial places of their residences, whose ventilators are blockaded for the passage of chilly air, and at fireplaces, in sunrays, with heavy clothing, and along with mature women of age, for they too will be passionately steamy...
...

They are two smart ladies, in a cafe, drinking tea,
Both chattering away so fast, and so very merrily,
They have obviously, to my mind, been friends for many years,
One of them is talking, the other one, she hears,
...

1 "O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
2 And call the cattle home,
3 And call the cattle home
4 Across the sands of Dee";
...

I have kissed the summer dawn. Before the palaces, nothing moved. The water lay dead. Battalions of shadows still kept the forest road.

I walked, walking warm and vital breath, While stones watched, and wings rose soundlessly.
...

'Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
...

I dreamt that she sat by my head, tenderly ruffling my hair with
her fingers, playing the melody of her touch. I looked at her face
and struggled with my tears, till the agony of unspoken words burst
my sleep like a bubble.
...

I think his name was Carlo, or was it maybe Marlow,
He was as handsome, as he could possibly be,
I offered him my 'head' and mentally my 'bed',
I imagined perhaps he'd really fancy me.
...

To be a great musician you must be a man of moods,
You have to be, to understand sonatas and etudes.
To execute pianos and to fiddle with success,
...

I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world;
Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
...

Your hand full of hours, you came to me – and I said:
‘Your hair is not brown.’
You lifted it, lightly,
on to the balance of grief,
it was heavier than I.
...

...

Some day I shall rise and leave my friends
And seek you again through the world's far ends,
You whom I found so fair
(Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!),
...

The waitress with the orange hair keeps motionin' me to hurry up and leave
I gulp my coffee - burn my mouth - grab up my coat and slippin' out
...

For this my mother wrapped me warm,
And called me home against the storm,
And coaxed my infant nights to quiet,
And gave me roughage in my diet,
...

Your hair was full of roses in the dewfall as we danced,
The sorceress enchanting and the paladin entranced,
In the starlight as we wove us in a web of silk and steel
Immemorial as the marble in the halls of Boabdil,
...

The girl with dark and beautiful hair,
Her eyes are lovely and her skin fair.
She is like a full bloomed flower
With beauty, I can’t bear
...

I scrub the long floorboards
in the kitchen, repeating
the motions of other women
who have lived in this house.
...

Padilla unloads mangy herd of Mexican
cattle in the field.
Meaner, horns long and sharp
for bloody battle, lean from a diet
...

Some days my thoughts are just cocoons- all cold, and dull and blind,
They hang from dripping branches in the grey woods of my mind;

And other days they drift and shine - such free and flying things!
...

I dreamed as in my bed I lay,
All night's fathomless wisdom come,
That I had shorn my locks away
And laid them on Love's lettered tomb:
...

Dropp’d feather from the wings of God
My little songs and snatches are,
So light He does not hear them fall
As He goes by, from star to star.
...

That laugh revives a warm memory.
Shoulders rolling hair swinging
That year a familiar territory
as near as last Saturday
...

You stay for a while beside me with your beauty young and rare,
Though your light limbs are as limber as the foal's that follows the mare;
...

FAR hence, amid an isle of wondrous beauty,
Crouching over a grave, an ancient, sorrowful mother,
Once a queen--now lean and tatter'd, seated on the ground,
...

Tom told his dog called Tim to beg,
And up at once he sat,
His two clear amber eyes fixed fast,
His haunches on his mat.Tom poised a lump of sugar on
...

Reason says, “ I will beguile him with the tongue.”; Love says,
“Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.”
The soul says to the heart, “Go, do not laugh at me and yourself.
What is there that is not his, that I may beguile him
...

Glory to you, inescapable pain!
The gray-eyed king died yesterday.
...

She is standing on my eyelids
And her hair is in my hair
She has the color of my eye
She has the body of my hand
...

1.
We two sit on our bed, you
between my legs, your back to me, your head
slightly bowed, that I may brush and braid
...

how i wish my fingers were the bristles
or my breath were the wind when it whistles
thru your hair, thru your hair
...

My sleeping children are still flying dreams
in their goose-down heads.
The lush of the river singing morning songs
Fish watch their ceilings turn sun-white.
...

I hop on a bus, I race for a train,
Just to get back to see you again,
I hail a late taxi, and when I get there,
'She' opens the door with a 'rose' in her hair.
...

Ivy ties the cellar door
in autumn, in summer morning glory
wraps the ribs of a mouse.
Love binds me to the one
...

Not in thy body is thy life at all
But in this lady's lips and hands and eyes;
Through these she yields thee life that vivifies
What else were sorrow's servant and death's thrall.
...

Hair--braided chestnut,
coiled like a lyncher's rope,
Eyes--fagots,
Lips--old scars, or the first red blisters,
...

Sleep, darling
I have a small
daughter called
Cleis, who is
...

when we were here together in a place we did not know, nor one
another.
A bit of grass held between the teeth for a moment, bright hair on the
wind.
...

...

She hears me strike the board and say
That she is under ban
Of all good men and women,
Being mentioned with a man
...

XVIII

I never gave a lock of hair away
To a man, Dearest, except this to thee,
...

By constantly tormenting them
with reminders of the lice in
their children's hair, the
School Physician first
...

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
...

While joy gave clouds the light of stars,
That beamed wher'er they looked;
And calves and lambs had tottering knees,
Excited, while they sucked;
...

As a drenched, drowned bee
Hangs numb and heavy from a bending flower,
So clings to me
My baby, her brown hair brushed with wet tears
...

Dear can you help me for a while?
asked apologetically for a good smile,
’No’ replied a friend, keeping distance mile,
worries all around so can’t smile,
...

Depends on if the judge is fair,
Depends how high the heels you wear,
Depends on if they count the hair,
Depends if they allow the chair.
...

Leaves covering my body
laying
on earth
on soil
...

(Maidens’ song from St. Winefred’s Well)


THE LEADEN ECHO
...

O, what is that whimpering there in the darkness?

'Let him lie in my arms. He is breathing, I know.
...

I visit doctor
for myself and my family
to clean the illness out,
I clean my nail, hair and body,
...

In the wild soft summer darkness
How many and many a night we two together
Sat in the park and watched the Hudson
Wearing her lights like golden spangles
...

Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
...

There was an Old Man of Peru,
Who never knew what he should do;
So he tore off his hair,
And behaved like a bear,
...

Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and
danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to
...

Here is dust remembers it was a rose
one time and lay in a woman's hair.
Here is dust remembers it was a woman
one time and in her hair lay a rose.
...

She's passing fair; but so demure is she,
So quiet is her gown, so smooth her hair,
That few there are who note her and agree
She's passing fair.
...

889

Crisis is a Hair
Toward which the forces creep
...

i was laying beneath a big pine tree
the birds were whistling cheerfully.
the cool gentle breeze blowing thru my hair
and i knew right there, i had not one care.
...

A wind's word, the Hebrew Hallelujah.
I wonder they never gave it to a boy
(Hal for short) boy with wind-wild hair.
It means Praise God, as well it should since praise
...

i was jealous, but i don’t know why
perhaps it was because i felt emasculated,
picturing you on the back of that crotch rocket
tightly hugging his denim-clad middle-aged belly trying
...

FASTEN your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
...

Wrapping the rice cakes,
with one hand
she fingers back her hair.
...

All night the army came up from Gilgal
To get to the killing field, and that's all.
In the ground, warf and woof, lay the dead.
I want to die in My own bed.
...

Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
...

Come as you are; do not loiter over
your toilet.
If your braided hair has loosened if
the parting of your hair be not straight,
...

picture frames, my CD player, plates & silverware
there is nothing in this room she has not touched; her fingerprints are everywhere -
even the extra pillow on my bed
still has the soft bruise left by her head -
...

Fine, warm sand under the skin;
breeze playing with the long hair;
seagull`s yells and distant babel;
she feels invisible - stretched
...

I smile o'er the wrinkled blue­
Lo! the sea is fair,
Smooth as the flow of a maiden's hair;
And the welkin's light shines through
...