My hair is wild, as wild as can be.
It sticks out in all sorts of places,
It goes through many fits and stages,
You can’t imagine the myriad of gazes!
I have curls to a large degree.
They won’t listen to my plea.
My hair demands to be free.
A shortcut for washing his hair:
his head in the pool (for a dare)!
His ginger toupee
was off and away,
and doing the backstroke with flair
She has spotty skin
Whereas he has warts on his
He has freckles
She has boils
One's too oily
One's too dry
He is too pasty
Her's is too dark
She is too yellow
One's is patchy
The others too red
Yet for all of these many differences
There is one thing they all have in common
Is we are 1 and all
Universally unhappy in our own
Skin , within and without
One Christmas day when a bald man called Ray,
Gave his femme fatale, a silk negligée.
She whispered, please close your eyes,
While I touch up, your surprise.
But his surprise was a hair piece toupee.
12 / 18 / 2021.
For the contest XMAS LIMERICK
Sponsor Andrea Dietrich.
What's the big deal? Once combed, all is right in the world again, am I right?
Date written: 10/28/2019
Today my hair had a mind of its own,
being in the static electricity zone,
put in some mousse,
still looked uncouth,
walking around like an Alfalfa clone.
11-17-16
I woke up this morning and my hair was such a mess
Its grey roots are showing through - oh dear I must confess
This lovely shade of titian red it really isn’t mine
But when I get the colour on I just look so divine
I open up the bottles and mix the liquids so
The mixture smells disgusting; but then again I know
Once I’ve hit the bottle and the mixture is all gone
Grey hairs will be covered so I have to carry on
My hair is dyed I cannot lie, but it makes me feel so great
To eradicate the grey ones it’s really down to fate
My mum went grey at an early age and dad he has hardly any left
So if I couldn’t dye my hair at all I would be quite bereft
Jan Allison
19th February 2014
(Written in the voice of the Bride of Frankenstein)
Where did you get your hair done, Cruella
My beast fancies a streak of vanilla
Flames from your hair dryer?
What brand? I won't buy 'er!
That hair contraption could be a killa
Written for the Techno-Limericks Contest
Walking around my parent's house in the morning
With a bed hair that is breaking down
My mother is in the kitchen scorning
Before I knew it I was wearing a gown
Women, seize me; don’t shun me.
For my mane designed by birth –
No bad hair day, I’m bald up top!
Scalp shining in manly mirth.
© January 16, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Purple spikes pointing toward the sky
Do you suppose he woke that way?
Can anyone tell me the reason why
He'd strive to have " A Bad Hair Day'?
Washed and dried and fluffed and curled,
Sprayed to hold the look in place.
Into the rain and it unfurled,
Wet and flattened all over my face.
I stare in the mirror with fear on my face
So late for work my heart starts to race
I move the old brush, striving for perfection
As I gaze in horror at this shambling reflection
Each move of the hand makes it look worse
I am in need of a stylist or possibly a hearse
I squirt on some gel and it hits the mark
I turn on the dryer and out shoots a spark
I run all around with my hair quite ablaze
While it looks very hot it will be no new craze
I search for some water and instead I find cheese
I find this quite odd as I pant and I wheeze
I glance at my hair and it appears to be fur
But it did not before, of this I am sure
I begin to wake up, things start to come clear
I can see plainly how I had nothing to fear
Now it makes sense, things are not as they seem
Isn't it strange of what an animal can dream?
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