Tag Archives: poem about hair



He rolls over,
        pinning her
by her long hair.
He sleeps on it.
      She draws his dreams
           through its long shafts,
works out his days
into her web.
      Her hair,
black raven coal
      falling down the chute
between his hands.
      Her hair
to be pulled down.
Her hair
his fist
   in each other.
Her hair
his mouth
the cave
     a feast of hair.
Her hair side-winding on the ground.
     Her hair whips
his face until he weaves
a bridge of it
      to cross the high crevasse.
Her hair
with a baby
    swinging from it.
         her hair woven
               into bags and harnesses,
    yet when a strand
slips from behind her ear,

it makes necessary:
he assembly line

just to invent



Oops, sorry… I missed that I was supposed to start with “This is not a . . . . I was in a hurry because I was afraid the posting time was about to close!  For dVerse Poets Prompt: An object.

Do it Yourself


Do it Yourself

The ending was disastrous though it started out just fine.
I don’t have anyone to blame. The fault was purely mine.
I thought I knew the way to do it but was surely wrong.
I should have heeded the advice my friends gave all along.

But my father was a Dutchman. I inherited his genes.

To figure out most everything, I think I have the means.
I made and hung the kitchen shelf.
I installed my towel bars by myself.
I patched the wall
and then, y’all,
fast as a wink,
unplugged the sink.

As you can see, I’m competent. Sufficiently sufficient.
In household matters A to Z I’m startlingly efficient.
I guess I should have asked for help with my last operation,

for now I have to stay at home and feign I’m on vacation
lest every friend who sees me delivers an oration
about how I should read instructions,
not depend on pure deductions,
ask for help, request advice.
I heeded not, now pay the price.

The instructions that I never heeded
were probably the ones I needed.
The hair dye warning I failed to see
is in fact what ruined me.
For though I am really fond
of hair a lovely hue of blonde,
I fear I’m unfit to be seen
now that my hair’s a vivid green!

So for a few months I’ll be heard
by Skype or telephone or word,
but no one will ever see me
until repeated shampoos free me.
You do not have to say a word.
I know my actions were absurd.
I might have had lovely blonde locks
if only I had read the box!!!

The prompt today was disastrous. Image from the internet. Thanks, “Psycho!”