Best Curlers Poems
At the beach in your bikini
blowing off those also-rans
you posture in your playful way
with Gucci sunshades and
the latest Grisham novel.
At the gala you're exquisite
in your slinky cocktail dress.
Simple, black, short and sexy,
you shimmer like a morning mist,
the chandeliers are dancing in your eyes.
At the condo in your nightgown,
(the antithesis of sex),
tucking in the kids
and softly singing them to sleep,
you're Wonder Woman in your plastic curlers.
I know I have the best,
without a doubt, it's true,
whatever outfit you put on,
my 'winner' still is you!
While driving down a country road
One dark and lonely night
My engine began to spit and sputter
From a strange and mysterious light
I saw this little green spaceman
With antennas on his head
He was standing beside my window
And this is what he said
"Take me to your leader,
Or we will end your life"
So I did exactly what he said
And I took him to my wife
When I got home my wife was mad
And asked me where I've been
I told her about my crazy night
And about those little green men
She asked if I'd been drinking
And I don't drink a drop
About that time that spaceman yelled,
"Okay now, everybody stop"
Now my wife was really pissed
And said, "Who do you think you are?"
She grabbed him by his spaceman ear
And drug him from that car
Now, there she was in curlers
With that spaceman by his ear
I think he might have peed himself
As he stood there in all his fear
Now you may not believe my story
But I've got a souvenir
When they beamed that spaceman back to his ship
My wife held on to his ear
So if you ever see a UFO
Don't scream and run for your life
Just take him to your leader
And by leader I mean, my wife
Dear Santa, it’s Looby Loo, I’m still here
It’s a miracle, have been ill all year
I don’t want you to forget to stop by
As this old gal would then break down and cry.
I need decent bloomers, mine are in holes
And us oldies truly do feel the cold
A box of curlers, the soft spongy type
As the old un’s wake me up in the night.
I’d like a dressing gown, size twenty four
I can’t do mine up, it don’t fit no more
Some new fluffy slippers to match it too
Mine are worn out, so I need them it’s true.
I may be old, but I like to look nice
Lipstick and face powder would see me right
Oh, some perfume too as mine has run dry
I wish to smell sweet when passing folk by.
Walking isn’t easy for me these days
A four wheeled walker would make me feel brave
I’d be most grateful if all this I get
I’m sure I will, as you are the best yet.
Try not to wake me as I needs my sleep
I’ll leave you some wine and mince pies to eat
Slam the door shut when you leave Santa please
I don’t want my presents stolen by thieves.
Bless you dear Santa for all that you do
Merry Christmas and may the Lord bless you
Looby Loo.
Day one out of the womb – had a full crop of hair,
black like my daddy’s (it later went more fair).
Early childhood – Mom kept my brown hair short
because I’d twist it into knots. What a silly sport.
Peanut butter and some gum in my hair might stick.
Never a long hair style could I ever pick.
Pre-teen years – at last I saw my dark hair grow.
Pony tails and pig tails were ways my hair might show.
Junior High, late 60’s, hair piled high like a hive.
A wonder that no bumble bees were seen in there alive.
My hair was also parted always on one side.
I’d wear curlers in a store. Did I have no pride?
High school days – hair longer. In boring math at school,
I sat there pulling off split ends. Must have looked a fool!
College days – used a cheap product from the store.
“Sun-In” gave me reddish-blonde. I used it four times more.
The 80’s – got a perm. The curls were tight. Had oodles.
Now I can have sympathy for cockapoos and poodles.
90’s – used extensions. A lot of folks I fooled.
Strawberry blonde seemed to be the color then that ruled.
New century. New color. My hair was very blonde.
There were two guys in a tram in Rio that I conned.
My friend who looked American knew every word they stated.
About my natural color those guys in Portugese debated.
They finally decided my blonde was natural.
I got a kick out of those young fellows’ folderol.
Later on, my hair got over-bleached. I showered, and
lots of strands of it crumbled right into my hand.
After that, while growing out dark roots about two years,
I wore a wig until uncolored hair went past my ears.
A co-worker , not knowing I wore a wig at school,
told me that my hair had never looked so cool!
By 2010, my hair was in a rut.
Only one side of it grew, so I’d always get it cut.
Turned 60 and got cancer. Ate better to be stronger.
Miraculously my hair AND nails grew a whole lot longer.
Since then till now, my daughter’s been my dear beautician.
She keeps the gray away and my hair in good condition.
Were my hair not dyed, salt and pepper it would be.
I love my gold-like hair, thick, and long and wavy.
Some people think a woman of my age should wear a shorter “do.”
Decades it took to get this look, so NO (and I’ll keep my cute bangs too!)
Deanna likes her old fashion pink plastic snap curlers.
Has brought them to Ethyl at the beauty shop since 1968.
Hair has survived fifty-one years of the same style
Unfortunately, when she gets there she is told Ethyl has passed.
She trusts none of these other whippersnappers.
What would they know about pink snap curlers?
She doubts they could pop them together, let alone brush her out.
Teasing is probably something they have never been taught.
What about the special cans of hairspray Ethyl keeps for her?
“I can do it, Miss Deanna,” one of the young ones says.
She shakes her head sadly.
She did not even get here until about twenty-five years ago.
What would she know about it?
She leaves clutching her pink snap curlers, angry at Ethyl for dying.
This is her third bad experience this week.
What is up with all these seventy year olds?
What is this need they have to die?
I am playing with mommy’s make up
While she’s tired and putting her feet up
I’m supposed to be having rest too
But face painting’s a fun thing to do.
Mommy placed the curlers in my hair
She tells me it gives me added flair
So I’m painting my face, as mom does
Hoping it makes her happy heart buzz.
My hair will become curly whirly
And my face decidedly girly
With my lips covered in red lipstick
Blusher on my cheeks, and green eyelids.
Mommy is bound to have a surprise
When she wakes up and opens her eyes
I'm sure she'll say that I look charming
Don't know what she means by self harming.
>>>>>>>>> She was a tappin' to rhythmic tunes...
those Mississippi blues,
step-pin' out, in her sexy...
cowgirl leather boots...
red white & blue...
we were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through her kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so - hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
funny curlers too, upon...
her head-for a new - Hair dew,
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
in her kitchen dancin' while...
,
her head...still a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sipin' & sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ol'e...
good ol'e...miss-is-SIP-pi moves,
that floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
while Grandma's feet were a stompin',
in her new...'New - Cowgirl' - sexy - fancy
leather - red, white, & blue Mississip-pi boots
(yip pee)
BLUE shaped hair is styled to rigid perfection by rows of orderly, PINK curlers
BLUE notes from an "Oldies" station linger, a calming WHITE noise to soothe
BLUE scents of expensive musk linger, permeating the YELLOW walled salon
BLUE flavored grape juice is thoroughly enjoyed by thirsty GRAY haired patrons
BLUE velvet blouse, worn by an elegant BLACK woman, is admired by all.
PINK shaped flamingos dot the salon decor, bringing a nostalgic feeling
As notes of WHITE laced doilies punctuate the mood of times gone by
In an atmosphere of musky scents, the little parlor glows in a YELLOW haze
With GRAY heads of wisdom and manners, their words flavored with grace
To dispel any BLACK mood with a velvet word of care, wearing their BLUE hair.
BY EZAR
I am seeing the lives of others faceing a path with out covers
Trying to survive without fathers
No love for one another cold is world with out guidance for boys and girls
Not knowing that they are jewels like diamonds and pearls
Dark or light course hair or curlers
They all need to see what life could be from the height of the heavens to depths of the seas
Years full term 360 degrees
Money well earned to supply their needs
Instead of guns to squeeze addicted to drugs like rats to cheese
Being taught false facts to please the masses blurred sight even with glasses
Believing their less than average
No positivity so they become stagnant
My heart cries for its more than tragic
Mind control music labeled as classic
Consumed by the youth seen though the action
A generation lost is the price of the cost
Saleing their souls only concerned about what to floss
Thinking that riches and wealth is the true boss
Don't they realize that Jesus died and shed blood for their lives on the cross
Different languages but the same perspective
On how the world is doing anything for the lights of show bizz
Even though they are blessed with seeds of greatness PEACE
For a date at eight she bathes at five.
In tons of bubble bath,
Barricades her boudoir door,
Eau de cologne marks her path!
Her lingerie must be 'just so',
A froth of frills and lace.
Down with the curlers, up with the hose,
The womanly task of 'fixing her face'!
Donning a frock spun out of dreams,
With a skirt to swish and sway.
Into the slippers, shining and new.
Did Cinderella feel this way?
What gala affair now summons our queen,
Embassy tea or debutante ball?
Oh no! It's a matter of much more import!
Her very first date awaits in the hall!
Composed by my wife, Vera Selena (Osburn) Hinshaw
© All Rights Reserved
There was an old hooker named Black,
She turned the air blue in Iraq,
In stilettos of ink
And her curlers of pink,
She flashed in her apricot mac.*
*Mackintosh (raincoat)
For Lisa’s Tickle me Pink contest
She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues,
step-pin' out, in her sexy...
cowgirl leather boots, red white & blue,
We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so - hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
Funny curlers too, upon...
her head-for a new - Hair dew,
In her kitchen dancin' while...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her head...still a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sipin' & sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...miss-is-SIP-pi moves,'
That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
sounds ...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New - Cowgirl - sexy - fancy
leather - Red, white, & blue Mississip-pi boots ...
(yip pee)
New York, New York, the road in the fork
of the events, the places and folks who've buttered the pork
Like Rockefeller, Moynihan and Andrew Cuomo
Frank Sinatra, Louie Armstrong, John Lenon and Yoko Ono
Lenny Bernstein and Lenny Bruce
Cookie Monster, Rocky and Bullwinkle Moose
There's Radio City, Central Park and Carnegie Hall
Coney Island, Yankee Stadium -- Let's Play Ball!
The Brooklyn Bridge on the Hudson River
Lower East Side and the Village, for swingin' livers
Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle and White Ford
Don't forget Casey Stengel and Yogi Berra -- Oh, my Lord!
Marilyn Monroe, Madonna and Phyllis Diller in curlers
Archie Bunker, the Meathead, Anne Meara and Jerry Stiller
Stooge-mania, West Side Story and Annie Hall
Kramden, Norton and the Honeymooners
You've seen or heard of 'em all
There's Madison Square Garden and the NY Philharmonic
The Times and Wall Street Journal -- news junkies tonics
Malcolm X, Dr. King, and Abe Saperstein
Julius Erving / Dr. J with a case of Afro-sheen
Baldies like Kojac and Yul Brynner, the King of Siam
Sam I Am, Son of Sam, Green Eggs and Ham
Harlem Globetrotters, the Apollo, Kareem Abdul Jabbar
Jay Leno, Ed McMahon and Johnny Carson, the great Jack Paar
There's Broadway, Times Square, Soho and Fifth Avenue
Isaac Stern, Pavoratti, Willie Nelson and Ray Charles singin' the blues ...
Make a list from the Statue of Liberty all the way up to Mars
~ You still might leave out a legacy of constellations and stars!
If I Were a Man, I'd:
Never purchase another dress,
chop the heels off my stilettos,
burn every pantyhose in the house,
allow my ears to close their portals,
and use pinking shears on all the bras.
If I were a man, I’d:
Place my jewelry up for grabs,
cart the curlers over to Goodwill,
paint the town with cosmetics,
and visit the barber for a buzz cut.
If I were a man, I’d:
Buy cowboy boots, a straw hat,
season tickets to baseball,
and a zero-turn lawnmower.
If I were a man, Id:
Control the remote at all times,
commandeer the recliner,
sit however I please, with perfect ease,
and change my name from Cona to Chuck.
If I were a man, I’d:
Reserve the right;
to track mud into the house,
leave drawers/doors standing open,
leave clothes/shoes lying where they drop,
control the money, and always ask,
“What’s for dinner?”
Like a morning hag in curlers
Without a trace of makeup on,
Ugly is thy name, O Desert;
A gift from those who know you not.
Show me the glass-eyed towers
That match your crystalline skies.
Show me the fiery tresses
As fair as your rosy clouds at dawn.
The doyens of cosmetics,
With their scientific skills,
Make no blushes that compare
With your evening skies and hills.
Richer than a thousand gardens
Are your flowered plains in Spring;
Lovelier than the splendid robes
Of wise Solomon, the king.
Fort Knox’ gold is a piker’s hoard
Beside your banks of sun-gilt peaks.
The diamonds of Fifth Avenue
Are dull beside your morning dew.
Your pogonip is a blanket
Much cleaner than the smog.
And who would shun the coyote
For a heavy metal lullaby?