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Best Poems About / On HAIR
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197.
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The Former Rose Of Casterton
From Casterton in Victoria she lives far away
With hair dyes and hair tints does she hide her gray?
With shoulder length dark hair and lovely eyes of brown
She was a former Rose of Casterton Town.
In her prime she was one lovely to behold
But now in her late fifties she is getting old
Did she marry, mother children or lead a single life
For some lucky fellow she would have been a beautiful wife.
The wanderlust in her and when she was nineteen
She left and in Casterton was never more seen
The Rose of Glenelg and Casterton's Pride
She was missed from the Town in the brown countryside.
With anti ageing creams and hair dyes does she cloak time's decay
For she surely has known a far better day
Good memories of her with those who knew her to this day remain
Though in Casterton she never may be seen again.
Francis Duggan
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198.
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Some times people just dont get me
Some people just see my face
Glossy lips mascara-coated lasses and
Pink Rosy checks but thats just the out side
There is so much more to me more than pink hair
More than manicured nails more then a pair of denim jeans
More then what meets the eye sometimes I think people just dont
Get me those are the times I sit alone in my room
Those are the times that seem to go on forever
Those are the times even beauty cant fix
The times I sing out my heart the times I feel
No one loves me
Those are the time I have sweat pants on my fav hoddie
And my blonde and pink hair tied up tight
The time mascara runs down my face from the tears
And my hair is socked from the shower thats sound of betting water
Muffled the sods so no one could hear
Then other times people get my they see the gloss the pink hair and fitted denim jeans
On top of it all the see the goofy glasses and they know I will never grow up
The times were my gloss has faded from smiling and chatting to them but my eyes are fixed on my black high top shoes and he knows I want to cry
Those are the times he holds my and makes things right
Those are the time were I dont get him
leona True
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199.
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No One is There (a villanelle)
He kisses her eyes, buries his hands in her hair
He rests his weight upon her where they lay
He wakes alone, to find no one is there
The room is icy; her breath gives form to air
Neither of them knows quite what to say
He kisses her eyes, buries his hands in her hair
He dreams of a hospital, the walls are white and bare
She stands in the light, at the end of a hallway
He wakes alone, to find no one is there.
Her beauty is ghostly, more fragile than air
She hides within his arms, so small and fey
He kisses her eyes, buries his hands in her hair
He hides her clothes, leaves her nothing to wear
lest something from the night steals her away
Yet still he wakes alone. No one is there.
With her, he could rise out of this despair
At night they drink, and sleep all through the day
He kisses her eyes, buries his hands in her hair
And wakes alone, to find no one is there.
royness ( ' ' )
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200.
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Hello, Old man...
Hello, Old man, youre hair is turning to gray,
Though it ought not cause me no surprise,
For theres many a sun that youve seen rise and go down
Since your step was light and your hair was brown,
And storms and snows have had their way
Hello, Old man, youre hair is turning to gray,
And the youthful pranks that you used to play,
Are dreams of long ago lie in a heart where the fires burn low
That has lost the flame though it kept the glow,
And spite of driving snow and storm,
Beats bravely on forever warm. December holds the place of May
Hello, Old man, youre hair is turning to gray,
Who cares what the carping youngsters say?
For, after all, when the tale is told,
Love proves if a man is young or old!
Old age cant make the heart grow cold
When it does the will of an honest mind;
When it beats with love for all mankind;
Then the night but leads to a fairer day
Rey Sanidad
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