Best Headband Poems
Moonbeams beckon on my window tonight
Dragging me out of this comfort to view
Delicate splendor impassioned so bright
Refulgent waves from this lady in blue
Dazzling in beauty, dignity and grace
Taut string of pearls adorning her bare neck
Highlight her dimpled and delicate face
Her eyes enchanting with a caramelized fleck
Soft scarlet lips with a wry little smile
Yellow cloth headband holding her silk hair
I stand there in awe and gaze for awhile
As sweet scents of lilacs float through the air
Strong my heart thumps for the lady in blue
Finally knowing my dreams could come true
Farewell, au revoir, goodbye, convivial summer.
The day is late now, and the breeze is warmer.
A vacant ocean-side barricaded motel.
Wild geese are soon flying in lines as well.
Vacation homes drop their literate barricades.
This rich sweeping green tone will soon fade.
In this season, buds and fruits are abundant.
Melons and garden load are ardent.
Tanned skin, sailboats, and folded linen suits.
When the world is more positive than disputes,
Pollen irritates the sinuses of sensitive patients.
Now they've fled to the farm, the coast nascent.
Stop their passing endeavor at escape.
The Ferris wheel in LEGOLAND is agape.
The Cape no longer trades in quirkiness.
A glum family descends from the murkiness.
To welcome their offspring back from camp.
Mature year, scarlet maple boughs, raised scamp.
Sunburned shoulders disappear at summer's end.
Goodbye to the peasant's headband.
Goodbye storms and dirty white shoes.
Goodbye summer friends, pants, shorts, and cruse.
Farewell, tennis peculiar desire to be difficult.
Farewell picnics, ice tea, and plane trips, munificent.
Written: August 19, 2022
The little girl’s mom Tila,
worked hard to save enough money
It was her baby girl’s birthday,
how she loved her miel, her honey
She saw a Barbie doll that stood
in the window at Catarina’s Boutique
Wearing a traditional dress embroidered,
flowered details so unique
Sugar skulls glisten
a crown of marigolds adorn her hair
A Mexicana Barbie with long dark braids
nothing would compare
Complemented by a golden yellow flowery headband
The dolls face and body
a beautiful color of ochre, tanned
Spotted by the little girl
on their walk through the city
Calling out, que bonita!
Mamita she is really pretty
Maria Barbie printed on the box,
like hers, it was the same
She knew she had to have her,
when learned she shared her name
Tila rushed home to put the order in on the phone
The line went dead, there was a muted tone
She prayed the order went through that day
And hoped it would be received
on her daughter’s birthday
Because of the power outage in Pueblo,
a small town
The Barbie doll was gone,
lost and could not be found
Tila was sad when she told her miel
it was the last one of her kind
Don’t cry mamita, I already prayed another
little girl Barbie Maria will find
Black Sheep
Her beleaguered parents, had it
with her.
That daughter and her mouth,
forever causing a mighty stir!
They went to downtown
Chicago,
To see Dr.Zhivago, hoping this
might quiet her.
But no, in their daughter, it was
more like an intellectual stir.
She stopped going to Mass
and left the Catholic Church.
Her Father weeping, he was
far more than hurt.
That spunky young woman
dropped out of college.
Then, in the dead of winter,
eloped to the West Coast in a
Midwest blizzard, she happily
left, without their knowledge.
Yes, she became part of the
50's Beat Generation.
And the "Tune In, Drop Out of
Work Nation."
Both parents, several years
later at a total loss, when she
sported a huge peace symbol!
And an Indian headband,such
a zany daughter, looking always
for a new struggle?
She finally settled down, moving
to the West Coast.
Where they found out, she was
having far more fun than most.
They wanted her back in the
boring Midwest!
Alas, she had fallen in love with
the gods of individuality and
wildness.
The Black Sheep found ultimate
happiness you see, in being
beholden to no one.
She, the Black Sheep, found her
home, heart, life and her love,
most assuredly!
Under the glorious, amber lights
of the Golden Gate Bridge on the
wings of a sea gull!
She, in her free and glorious state,
baptized him....poetry!
July 14,2019
10:30 pm
Entered in Anthony Slausin's Contest..
"Black Sheep"
Gave Shark catnip and he turned into a hippie
Took me straight back to the seventies
Put on his fur vest and fringed headband
Made the peace sign with his paws
Became morbidly mellow
Docile, chilled, rolled onto his back
Soaked up the sun with his tongue hanging out
A happy addict
Just gotta have it
my red polka dot headband
It fits my image
the beauty without Botox
A little sweet kiss to you
18.01.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Tanka 5-7-5-7-7
howmanysyllables.com
Today’s the day.
Our training is to be put on display.
Upon each is a test of the heart.
Guts to do it all from the start.
Here we go over the first wall, sublime.
Men and Women at the line.
Utter the words “HOO RAH” in time.
Determined to finish the challenge ahead.
Defined by how they react to others in dread.
Each of us who finish the course and stand.
Reach a new respect for those who sport the orange headband.
I look at her picture ... she'll never grow old.
A feathered headband on her small, downy head.
The pain will lessen, that's what we've been told
but we've so few memories of a babe , now dead.
Scarlett of name, a moniker bold,
for such a wee thing, fragile and young.
She won't grow into the name, will never grow old.
Won't learn to walk or talk or ever have fun.
I look at her picture, tears brimming my eyes.
She sleeps so peacefully in repose.
They say time will heal but I believe it's all lies.
The grief that we feel, no one really knows.
Her unbearable beauty left scars on our hearts.
On the day God reclaimed her ... we all fell apart.
Wanting to be heard, wanting someone to care,
But yet always drowning in the background.
When is time to break free, get your own spotlight,
Move up to the front, walk up and yell here I am.
Stand out in every possible way,
Put your hair up and wear bright colors that scream who you are.
Let that neon shirt smell of confidence,
And the headband harass anyone who dares to question you.
Have confidence in yourself, it gives you an edge, confidence is key,
show it off let them see it, and once they do, they'll be the background for you to shine upon.
the aim of this poem is very simple
only want to tell you that the clothes
we wore on our wedding were light green, but
the leaves used to wrap the wedding cakes were a darker green.
sure, both are green, but a different green, my dear.
a flowery headband tuck into your hair
you may feel it but might not know
that the flowers are white jasmines
on my head, nestle a pair of doves, also white.
i always imagined us, that day,
as a pair of trees in the spring.
you were a blossoming tree.
i was a tree where doves nest.
i saw people came and smile.
they talked while enjoying the food.
but what they were talking about, i could not hear.
care to tell me, dear?
Soupers say my pen radiates an icy chill.
My words are able to freeze hell's fiery gates, which gives me such a thrill!
February's cold gusty wind, is no match for my cold hearted pen.
Some poets may not comprehend, but I metamorphosed from my wintry sin!
My stanzas are arctic and raw, nipping at any poet who dares.
I try and leave my reader in awe, with eyes that surprise the coldest stares!
I'm always roaming the icy land, looking for a poet to slay.
With a poetic tribal headband, I dominate with my chilling word play!
With long legs and elongated beak he came,
wearing trunks and a black sash 'round his waist,
smelling of 'High Karate' and wearing a blue headband,
the 'bad-seed' leader of Jujitsu and martial arts, we all faced!
This was no panty-waist or mealy-mouth bird-brain,
no chicken-livered fowl that worked for scratch,
No! Here was a true blue hero, a real egg-ample to us all,
Dodo-itsu - master fighter, a feathered leader that all hens longed to catch!
For years he taught us how to fight with beak, claw and wing,
and then for some strange reason, he packed up and went away,
some say that he got too old to teach and then became extinct,
but I believe that he was called to battle and still is fighting today!
©Jane Richer
02/26/2005
A child yearned to play baseball today -
a million raindrops dashed the boy's luck.
Yet, espying an object upon the floor;
a moppet's imagination runs amuck.
The lad fantasized he was young David
and mighty Goliath was his foe.
Using his treasure as a slingshot,
he slew the giant with a single blow.
Next he was off to the wild, wild West -
pretending to be Chief Thunderdown!
He turned his friend into a headband -
sporting colored feathers 'round his crown.
Chief Thunderdown is injured in battle.
His arm dips like a clipped eagles’ wing.
The young lad acts as the town's doctor -
his treasure doubles as the chief's sling.
The child makes believe he's an archer;
alinging ten tin cans in a row.
A crayon transforms into an arrow -
his playmate will suffice as his bow.
The youngster is now a circus clown.
Under the Big-Top, he’ll giggle and dance!
Wriggling his playtoy around his waist;
his new found friend will hold up his pants!
Out of all the toys that adorn his room -
the small prize his dreams would expand?
A headdress, a belt and a slingshot are
brought to life by one boy’s rubberband.
Inspired by:
Trash or Treasure? Rhyming Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Karen Neary
In to the future times, eons from now
My friends and I in newest time machine
We flew to reach a world, enchanting! Wow!
With rose thickets, meadows and lofty pines
No heat; no Sun, in there; a lone full Moon
Was smearing sandalwood balsam on us
Running bunnies and frolicking raccoons
Did run a riot, while bees honey hummed buzz
My friends were filled with joy and flair, new-found
One reined a dinosaur; one chased a hound
One painted white, a crow; one tamed a bear
One dressed a wounded deer and hugged with care
One ran for sweet honeys dripping from trees
With tongue outstretched and hit a black outcrop
Some climbed the trees and ate the fruits with glee
Some clung and swung to banyan’s hanging props
One raised a bough like a sword; displayed his brawn
And screamed, “I am the king of these realms green”
Adorned his wife with milky quills of swans
Her red headband and preened, “I am the Queen”
Went on and on my peoples’ prank and mirth
Till sounded time machine, “It’s time, it’s time”
We sprinted back to occupy our berths
And left that world of bliss with thoughts sublime
And back in my office; on broken chair
Below my screeching fan, with grim grimace
I sighed aloud and reached the open air
To find my friends drudging in Sun’s furnace
A wrenching feeling rudely swept my mind
“We live in neither future nor in past
To this Present alone we’re firmly chained
And breathe the breeze of this minute and last”
When truth unclothed had streaked before my eyes
Returned I sad and broke my truck of lies
There was the little girl,
She shared a hope,
Untied her headband,
And held out as rope,
For the Knight in Shining Armour,
Guarding the door,
The Armour was propped,
No Knight in the core;
He, who was swimming,
In a fantasy pool,
Sensed calmness as reality,
For it appeared, cool;
Careless as he was,
Blinded with glee,
His vision was, blurred,
So he could not see,
When the Prince entered,
Dressed in rags,
He offered no water,
The Prince was, turned back.
The little girl wept,
So as she seemed to be,
Eternal longing for the Prince,
To set the Knight, free.
Stricken with grief,
The Knight ran out,
Leaving his shining armour,
At the door, stout;