Best Headbands Poems
The 60's
The look was penny loafers, bobby socks,
pleated skirts, button up shirts,
bell bottom pants and headbands
Flower children were also the era,
Stood for peace and love also political movement
Listen to the music of the Beatles, Monkeys, Rolling Stones plus many more.
My heart throbbed for John Lennon, so young and in love
In my private time I listen to Liberace on the radio
Danced the Twist, Jerk, Monkey, Mashed potato, and the Watusi
I love to dance at the school Sox Hop dances up on the bleachers
Swinging my long auburn hair to the waist, back and forth
My hips moved to the twist
While everyone else danced on the gym floor
Mom’s favorite hair style, the Beehive
Dad looks so good looking behind the wheel of his 1959 De Soto station wagon
A child’s joy jumping rope, hopscotch, jacks,
Rotating a Hula hoop around my waist
Playing marbles with the boys
My favorite, climbing trees but
It always came with a broken bone
Our 35th president was John F. Kennedy
I was sitting in a swing in the playground
When we all heard he had been fatally shot
I was only 12 then
Tears ran down my face when I heard
People weren’t being treated equal
He stood for Equal Rights
We lost great man was that day
Growing up in the 60s was fun, but also very sad
Contest Name: Decades The 60’s * 2nd Place
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
I was reeking of spilled grape juice yesterday.
Today I stink like cigarettes.
In less than two weeks I have gone from new to old.
From crisp to filthy,
from sticky to stiff.
I shudder as my aggressor pulls me apart.
She yells something to her partner.
I don’t recognize the words, but….
Every time she yells this,
my belly hurts for days from her wickedly
insensitive manipulation, and indelicate prodding.
After fishing around with her hands, stirring
Green gum wrapper carcasses from one
Side of my tummy to the other,
She finally lets me catch my breath.
WHAM! I am completely dizzy when she
twists me upside down and shakes me hard,
Slapping my bottom with long, angry slugs.
I throw up pencils, pens, erasers, a variety of multi-colored
Toys, a washrag, crackers, cellophane wrappers,
A half-eaten candy bar, gritty stomach acid pills,
Paperclips, a baby’s shoe, two headbands, dust mites,
A dog biscuit and so many receipts it is ridiculous.
“Here they are!” Her partner calls.
She pops all the junk back into me, throws in
Her car keys for dessert, and off we go for more receipts.
I long for my clean shelf in Macy’s, and my relatives.
Brand-new backpacks, brand-new shoes;
Headbands topped with flowers.
Parents trying to enthuse
About the coming hours.
Photos taken, kisses swapped;
Pupils all converging.
Quick goodbyes as doors are propped;
Teachers gently urging.
Voices chatter, stairs are climbed;
First day jitters rising.
All of us once likewise primed
Should be sympathizing.
Child-like enthusiasm at Christmas time is not easily duplicated.
Hearty laughter surrounds a family reminiscing about other Christmases.
Rich pastries, cookies and candy only found once a year decorate a table.
Imaginative glimpses of future Christmases are in the forefront of newlyweds
Santa Claus cannot overshadow The Son in the homes of the reverent
There are Christmas headbands, sweatshirts, necklaces and earrings bringing joy
Many people are working to bring cheer to the needy, sick and homeless
Angels decorate Christmas trees and church pageants on both hemispheres
Sharing and caring in a Good Samaritan way make this week truly special
Flowers in my hair
pigtails light as air
Sequenced bows oh what flair
for a pretty girl named Claire.
Many headbands I shall wear,
count them if you dare !
Every generation has had its fashion frights.
Remember the Duck Tail and the Beehive do?
Headbands and beads and bell bottom pants,
We thought we looked good, who knew?
But today there's one that I just can't fathom.
What's with pants that ride dangerously low?
The crotch hitting about the back of the knee...
Boys slouching along, they have to go slow
.
In desperation they grip their waste band,
I'm guessing to prevent a probable slip.
Do we need to worry about the future?
Relax, these boys will be steering the ship.........
Tribute to Travel to Manila Philippines and Make This Poor Old Lady Happy...Documentary
Old wood in Manila ,Philippines
In a narrow alleyway
Old roof collapse
Converted into a wall
No doors
But window panels
An old, wooden ladder
For stairs
Grandma has fallen many a times
Climbing up to the second floor
To what is her house
Her husband and only child died
She’s survived ,75, still alive
Sell rice cakes to get by
Glutinous or dough-like white rice , Coconut meat, sugar, sesame seeds
Floating sweet rice cake or tongue-shaped
Topped with glazed toasted sesame seeds
Rice cake for sale
Rice cake for sale
Who wants to buy rice cake?
Who wants to buy rice cake?
Don’t know how to dance
So I just move
For a small donation
If I have the luck of chance
Her tears flowing with joy
Her heart pumping with gratitude
People abroad send her stuff
To keep her small business afloat
Donated cash, electric fan, pot and pan
Rice, New stove, dishes, glass-wear, utensils
She won’t have to borrow for a while
By mercy’s grace,
She’s doing just fine
Later comes a trip to the spa ,hair salon and shopping mall
She picks out her own blouses, shirts , dresses, headbands ,sandals and cell phone
A restaurant dinner concludes her visitors’ trip
All caught on camera
Marckincia Jean
Narrative
09/24/19
Wearing whirls, swirls, paisley too.
A jazzy, snazzy, bell bottomed you.
Slinky hip huggers with large chunky belts in style.
White Go Go boots that never walk a country mile.
Faux fringed jackets, fake fur vests, tall high boots too.
Gypsy skirts with mismatched patterns of every hue.
Please let your belly button show, my dear.
Wear the tightest jeans to accent your rear.
As long as your jeans flare out as wide as a skirt
And drag along enticingly in Woodstock’s dirt.
Homemade embroidery on blouses, and dainty braids.
Unless you deem to do an Afro, beautifully made.
Tight mini-skirts that show off your thighs.
Nehru jackets with high necks are a prize.
Headbands made to match every outfit.
The 70’s was strutted. Don’t you doubt it!
Vietnam War in black and white, every night on TV
Burning bras seemed okay for everybody but me.
Hippies and flower children seemed pretty wild.
To me in the Midwest, pregnant with child.
Auntie Emilina was a character for sure.
Did I mention she was busy and not very pure?
Fancy lady with exceptional taste.
Delicate, fragile, but not very chaste.
Exotic feathered headbands left behind.
Wearing them after eighty seemed unkind.
Perfume bottle; we all want favorite blue.
With a vibrant green, it speaks to us too.
She liked this one also our cousin says.
Sis climbs out of closet, wearing rhinestone fez.
She would love that! We tell her, knowing Aunt Em.
She was wild, exuberant, witty, crazy, and totally fem!
Their grinning heads cover the fields for acres
A sea of happy mini suns, welcoming us to Kansas.
We stare, amazed, having no idea this was possible.
There are photo moments and we take them all.
A gift shop sports stuffed dogs and cats,
With sunflower headbands and kerchiefs.
Everywhere we look a plate, cup, tumbler,
letter opener, Christmas ornament with a sunflower
This is sunflower hell my husband observes, so I send him to the car.
He can wait for me. I pile sunflower notepads and pens into a basket.
A lady wearing a sunflower apron, hat and socks smiles at me.
She gets closer and whispers. “Be sure and look in the bathroom.
Of course, I do and am not disappointed. Everything fancy.
Sunflower rug, sunflower chair, sunflower faucets.
I have to admit I was very disappointed by the plain white toilets.
Until I saw the sunflower toilet paper.
A woman carrying a child wearing a sunflower bib walks past.
“Where did you get it?” I ask her. She points.
Good! Sale rack! A manager comes over and offers to hold my basket.
When I get home with the bib I remember my youngest grandchild is five.
I see you, my two-legged neighbor
stopping and standing at the yellow-tape barricade to my home.
I wonder where you all have been?
I miss you walking on your looped path through my backyard
with wires going into your ears and those branches you carry as you walk,
the headbands on the fast-walkers and the colorful shoes of some.
I DON’T miss the smaller two-legs who try to chase me up a tree
or those barking four-legs that try to eat me for lunch!
But I DO miss you quiet ones who seem to adore the serenity of my home –
smelling flowers, listening to birds, admiring trees,
beholding the sky’s colors at sundown,
tossing nuts or bread crumbs to my kind.
What you call ‘social-distancing’
I call a way of life…
Mutual respect,
Mutual solitude.
Written 6 Apr 2020
My sister was horrified; you cannot give me that bucket,
She says, snottily as I try to hand her the renegade violets
She asked me to collect, complete with roots.
Why not?
There are dandelions in it. My husband hates dandelions.
Who hates dandelions?
I pull the dandelions out of the fray,
and plop them into a vase of water.
I have heard about a way to decorate a punch bowl with dandelions.
You put the head of a dandelion into each ice cube square of an ice cube tray,
Then you pour water in the tray and freeze.
Voila! Ice dandelions look lovely floating in a punchbowl.
I thought my sister was the only person in the world who disliked dandelions
Until I was trying to make fun of her at work, and other grown-ups agreed with her.
What kind of people hate dandelions?
They are pretty, they are the brightest yellow, they can be collected and made into faerie headbands,
Their stems are easy to link together.
I collect my secret box from inside the recesses of my biggest oak tree,
And put forty dandelions inside, to be linked later, when my sister leaves.
I will add a bit of fuzzy hot pink ribbon to complete my new headband.
But does she leave?
Heavens no.
She has to tell me why she hates clover now.
I am indignant, because
I planted that clover.
For my animals,
The wildest of the wild.
The bunnies, the deer, and the rabbits.
Submitted on 4/30/2018
To Jamie's Interesting Contest
Seventies fur vests wet in the rain
Stinky but still in style so we wore them
Until they shredded and fell off our dirty shirts.
Cotton shirts no longer crisp but with wide ruffles at their wrist marks.
Soft dirty wrinkly blue jeans that smelled a bit gamey.
No one noticed that they never made it to the laundry pile.
Being rank was part of our revolution, a clothing protest
To the Viet Nam War where our poorest were being sacrificed daily.
We scrunched together in Volkswagen busses,
Traveling to Washington, where we could hold our signs.
And protest our truth, where wet fur vests were parading about
Along with grungy headbands and dreadlocks on white teenagers.
Leaving the silk and satin of the sixties back in the small towns
Where their youth thought they had to have a wedding to have sex.
We knew better. We did not care about crisp smooth wrapping paper
Or prancing ribbons on packages. We were uncomfortable and glad.
All this global speech that once lauded your greatness has vanished.
My lips are crying today because of my misdeeds.
The harvest was completely washed away in the high winds.
Diseases and sicknesses, with fire, threaten scavengers.
Because I am shy, I cry slowly and sloppily.
If someone's feelings are bruised, a wipe may be beneficial.
Companions with crooked mustaches.
Backstabbing and spying are both kinds of treachery.
Who grasps what happened to the planet Earth.
Shame no longer benefits them, so why would they desire it?
An anxious atmosphere pervaded the air.
I'm here to assist you, and I'm grateful to God for this gift.
A natural area has been cordoned off.
The headbands must be reconnected.
Probe the misanthrope and share the etch news.
The sand on the road will cease if they reach their home.
If I yield barefoot, my final inference is consciousness.
Written: July 03, 2021
1st place contest win
A Brian Strand July 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I love chrome bumpers
Sequins on headbands
Rhinestones on sweaters
Colored gemstones that are polished
Confetti, glitter,
Anything ritzy, ditzy or sparky
I love shiny things
Could I be a crow?