Best Frizzy Poems
"When pain, rage and screams buried in the asylum of your heart start to poison your heart slowly and surreptitiously, you become a living ghost." - Anne Winter
Last night I had a dream,
I was a ghost in an asylum,
So many unheard screams,
Intelligence turned into something dumb and numb.
I looked at me,
Her hair frizzy and frazzled,
The ghost looked back at me,
My hair, soft like silk and dazzled.
My eyes, brimming full of life,
Her hollowness of face,
Her eyes dry like a dull knife,
Just like my hollow heart days.
“What did you do”she screamed,
Glass shattered and clattered at my feet,
Her crumpled ghastly face, tears gleamed,
My lips sealed, my heart scared to beat.
Should I tell her it's not her fault,
But my throat is closed and tight,
“It is”said the tears soaked in salt,
My eyes shrilled “Look for the light”.
She was about to throw glass shards at me,
I woke up before she could do it,
I apologise I couldn't set her free,
My room and bones, dimly lit.
Taste of my tears opened my eyes,
Self neglected, broken one always dies,
Fair or unfair,
It was just a nightmare.
I couldn't understand her, I'm not that deep,
Maybe Sylvia could understand the girl in my sleep,
All I could do was weep,
I couldn't fill the gaps so steep.
The ghost left me howling
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry”,
My heart sinking and drowning,
Her eyes, dull and starry.
Categories:
frizzy, anger, angst, cry, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
Swirl me, twirl me, spin me ‘round
My eyes are covered, subject not found.
Direct me here, then block me there
Smiles and snickers; won’t give a care.
Hates me, baits me, friend or foe
I stop to listen but never know.
Frizzy, dizzy, can’t find the beast
Removing blind, tail’s pinned on me!
Categories:
frizzy, confusion, me, me,
Form:
Verse
Polka Dottie
When the up-tempo “Beer Barrel Polka” began
I grabbed sweet John’s arm, curtsied to my man
The Polish side of my family hit the floor
While my new groom wished he could slip out the back door
There was only one dance I’d ever seen John do
His “variation of the twist,” shuffling one shoe
In fear he stood at first, wishing he’d taken lessons
Then hoped he could fake it, capture polka’s essence
But his sister Dottie could see poor John’s distress
So she hoisted up the hem of her bridesmaid’s dress
My family cleared way as Dottie started to prance
Oh, yeah, this gal surely knew how to Polka dance
John slipped behind the bar with a bottle of gin
As Dot spun me ‘round and my legs did a tailspin
So fast we twirled that I quickly became dizzy
Barrett fell from my hair and wild hair flew frizzy
Now what was I seeing, not one Dot, at least two
The Polka Dots took lead and when the dance was through
Dot told me she’d done it to rescue her brother
Who was now being helped to the loo by his mother
Dottie became an honorary “Pole” that night
Pleasing me and saving face to my groom’s delight
Written January 11, 2019
For Edward Ibeh’s Polka Dots Contest
Categories:
frizzy, humor, wedding,
Form:
Couplet
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant Makassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, Mohawk, flamboyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the henhouse:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Mustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
*Many thanks to Paul Callus for inviting me to join in this co-write.
Categories:
frizzy, hair, humor,
Form:
Verse
Teeter Totter
Up
down.
"Don’t bump your bottom on the ground!"
UP
down.
Inside the curvy tunnel is a dark, spooky space.
WOOPS, I'm sorry Patrick, I couldn't see your face!
A slippery slide we move down fast, Sarah’s arm in a cast!
I love to swing with Lindsey Loo, but swinging too high, she'll lose a
shoe!
Jack likes the tire rope the best, he just won't stop and take a rest!
When he circles 'till he's dizzy, his Irish face turns red and his hair turns
frizzy!
Gertie reaches for each monkey bar, “LOOK at me” she brags.
She thinks she's such a star, even I can climb that far!
It’s finally time for us to go, have ice cream and take a rest.
Our playground time is just the best!
6/21/2021
THE PLAYGROUND
Categories:
frizzy, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Rhyme
A wrinkle upon my face
make up I apply with haste
A board in place of my bra
forget going to the spa
dry frizzy hair what a waste.
Einstein Quote: "I never think of the future.
It comes soon enough."
5th Place T Reams
Contest sponsored by: Thomas Martin 'Humorous Poetry'
4/19/2015
Categories:
frizzy, age, body, humorous, image,
Form:
Limerick
Have you heard about my renowned uncle, Gladys
Who by sexual makeup had an Aunt’s status.
Well, he or she, you can use whatever you want;
Like I just said, this uncle is loosely an aunt.
Anyways, she had to remove all her mirrors,
Since she said, each of them made too many errors.
She claimed that they never reflected her splendor;
While we thought, they couldn’t decide on a gender.
In any case, she seemed a hallucination,
But Aunty was more of an amalgamation.
And if you dared to ask most people’s opinion,
They’d say she was pieced from the animal kingdom.
She smiled like a jackal and grinned like a badger,
And her lips resembled those of a fly catcher.
Her frizzy head of hair, was pin-striped like a skunk’s,
And her mammoth nose swung like an elephant’s trunk.
Her eyes were as piercing as that of a boa,
Or any old reptile collected by Noah.
We played with her sideburns that were like Wolverines’,
Although our moms made sure we got extra vaccines
See, Gladys had kindness in a strong manly way,
With her big old bear hug that could crush a Steinway.
We must admit, Gladys had some fine attributes,
That may show up some day in oddball film tributes.
To be shown nationwide for the weird and plucky,
But my cousins and I would still think it’s yucky.
Anyhow, it’s time to stop picking on Gladys,
By switching over to her only son, Alice.
David Fisher, 11/22/14, iambic hexameter,
For Giorgio's contest
Categories:
frizzy, family, funny,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant macassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, mohawk, flambouyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the hen house:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Moustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
-----------------------------------------------
With special thanks to Carolyn Devonshire
with whom this fun write was written.
Categories:
frizzy, hair,
Form:
Free verse
Goodness gracious me,
How can it be,
The ant leader
Posted that by decree,
I was a traitor,
And he
Would pass punishment
I could foresee
What was in store
Had to sit and steady my
Nerves with beer shandy.
It was a very hot day,
Thirty-eight degrees centigrade,
We were not by the sea,
But it was easy you see,
To keep cool
By the pool
Sitting on a high stool
With a beer shandy
In my hand,
Listening to the hotel’s
Resident band!
My phone rang,
It was my friend from Greece,
She was sending me a
Winter jacket made
Out of sheep fleece,
Oh don’t tease
Me please.
We talked for just
Under an hour
Said goodbye,
Went back to my beer shandy,
Life was just dandy.
But oh deary me the ants
Wanted to avenge
And take revenge
On me, as I picked up my
Glass of beer shandy,
Something seemed odd
I took a gulp from my glass,
And involuntarily forced
To expel the contents
From my mouth,
Hundreds of ants were floating
Dying, peeing, spitting
It was most distressing,
In my drink, I felt faint,
But practiced restraint,
Didn’t want the ants to
Know that I was dizzy
Even my hair was standing
On end and became frizzy
These industrious ants
Had set a trap
Determined to get back
At me for telling humans
About their plot to rule
Planet Earth, their leader Raoul
At the ready, creeping
And crawling
And nipping
Away at my flesh.
Doom spray I screamed
Please spray them all
Let them all die and fall,
I had to tell of their plan,
The world had to be prepared,
And their secret shared,
They began scurrying
And fleeing
From the spray, but muttering
Their real revenge was close,
They would be huge, and chew
Us up and spit us out, use
Us for fertilizing their gardens
And as for me,
I would be spat out constantly
And would regenerate daily,
So I was doomed,
They promised to keep
A wary eye on me,
Oh well perhaps I could emigrate
But they had this in mind,
Devious little monsters,
They would then immigrate
And join with other ants
From around the globe.
I would never be
Off the hook
For them I was a real
Baddie, a criminal, traitor
And crook,
Determined to expose
Theirs superpowers
To this planet,
And perhaps many others.
Categories:
frizzy, earth,
Form:
Free verse
My hair is frizzy and very black.
I found it in my chest of drawers.
Also a bunch grows in my crack.
And if you like it, it's all yours.
For Rick Parise's "A Bad Hair Day" contest
Categories:
frizzy, funnyhair,
Form:
Chastushka
(Poetry Form: Villonnet)
An angel decorates our great-room wall,
her dress made from a mop-head’s cotton strings
adorned with holly berries, flanked by leaves,
a hand-made gift from one I scant recall.
She holds a horn but never sounds a call,
to herald one who came so long ago.
Her hair hangs loose with spiral frizzy curls.
An angel decorates our great room wall.
At times she glows with power to enthrall
while sainted face displays a gentle smile
and braided arms are folded ‘neath her chin;
A hand-made gift from one I scant recall.
An angel decorates our great room wall.
On Christmas day she watches over all,
a hand-made gift from one I scant recall.
Categories:
frizzy, angel, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
My Flaws Indeed
My nose is too flat, I have a double chin
I am not sure when face wrinkles started to win
My hair is curly, sometimes a frizzy mess
A hand -held blow dryer is some days useless
One leg is too short from a knee alternate
It takes a great effort to walk really straight
I have high arches, I cannot wear high heels
Nor can I wear a dress, without curve appeals
Cancer diagnosis left me, half a whole
Why could it not have been my largest black mole
I could go on and confess all of my flaws
What the heck, I drew the shortest of the straws
--------------------------------------------------------------
My Flawless Breed
My smile is genuine, still have all my teeth
To my family, genes I hope to bequeath
My hearing is still good for all that it is worth
But it was much better, at my precious birth
My eyes see very well since I had R K
Once saw a foot, now I see a mile away
A sense of humor I do have plenty of
I plan on sharing, with all the ones I love
My heart is big enough to catch love to hold
And strong enough until I get extremely old
My talents are many just to name a few
Most of all I treasure everything I do
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Tenth Place Winner ~ "FLAWLESS vs’ FLAWS” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: SKAT
Feb. 17, 2011
Categories:
frizzy, on writing and words,
Form:
Couplet
When I see your eyes,
I read one hundred and one Arabian nights,
When I see you, I see the shadow of Baghdadi genies,
I see the magical floating carpets...
Flying the sandy dune-like divine bullets,
Racing with stars and more...
Your light. Your radiant sparkling eyes paralleled,
With Aladdin's lamps and more,
Your light. Sided the ones in the sky,
With the comet and co, just when i see you,
When i see your hips and swing walk,
Tasting your deeps,
And caressing you and your Garden of Eden,
You're forbidden apples, mango-like,
Touching with style,
Your strawberry lips,
Your olive eyes,
Your Carobian, frizzy hair,
Your longer neck...
And kissing with tenderness,
Your crystal clear-like poll,
I must admit,
And confess to the living world and planet,
That your beauty and look worth keeping,
In esoteric lore-book,
Forever and more.
Categories:
frizzy, emotions, feelings, love, romance,
Form:
Free verse
A girl in a red hat, walking home from campus, looks up and sees an elderly man stepping out on the window edge of an aging apartment building. She considers the distance from the ledge to the ground and determines that the fall will surely kill him. She is busy memorizing the look of the man, slightly too tight clothes, patchy grey hair; a man notices her gaze upward.
He follows her eye-line, and upon seeing the old man he yelps, “don’t jump!” He dials emergency and explains the situation to an uninterested operator. A small crowd has gathered during his conversation, waiting for the man to make his decision. The girl wonders how old the man actually is, he can’t have much time left anyways.
A middle-aged woman joins the anxious crowd; she pats down her frizzy red hair while thinking of how great a story this will be to tell her husband. Tonight he will listen intently to her for the first time in months. “Do it man!” yells a teenage boy, approving of his show of rebellion against society. Quickly after, an old lady with crooked fingers thumps him on the head.
The old man sees the approaching brigade of cop cars. “I don’t have much time left anyways,” the man justifies his decision, and turns around ducking back into the building he draws the scarlet curtains, leaving a crack for sunlight to lay upon the dusty floor. A collective sigh of disappointment rises from the crowd and into his window. Its fine, what is one more upset in a life full of mistakes? The girl is the first to walk away; she remembers she has to pick up milk.
Categories:
frizzy, age, community, depression, humanity,
Form:
Narrative
Here we part ways, dear. Sorry, excess makes me sick.
You'll visit me one day as an anticyclone.
We ate cheese drinking Port wine few times a week,
Used to chip in for a new bottle like brothers.
From now on we'll no longer see one another.
I will remember you silly, skinny and weak,
Eighteen, a bit drunk and without a real mother.
We knew only excess, there was no middle ground.
You were cute when you laughed. I still recall the sound
Of days at the faculty when like kids we sat
On beige worn-out window-sills to enjoy a chat.
Each his own boss, yet a whiner with a cola.
We part ways here, dear. It's that around
The corner you continue solo.
I won't come to read the burial. There's green grass
And a lake. The car's in the bush, after you pass
The fill. I don't recall how I made it out alive at eighteen.
I don't know how it feels dying at twenty two even if keen.
See you not-soon! Hard to catch up with you, frizzy.
I watch your back as you leave and feel so dizzy.
Categories:
frizzy, best friend, break up,
Form: