Best Headscarf Poems
"Girl with a Pearl Earring" is an oil painting by Dutch Golden Age painter Johannes Vermeer, dated c. 1665. Going by various names over the centuries, it became known by its present title towards the end of the 20th century after the earring worn by the girl portrayed there. Wikipedia
Artist: Johannes Vermeer
Dimensions: 44 cm x 39 cm
Location: Mauritshuis
Created: 1665
Period: Dutch Golden Age
Medium: Oil on canvas
What do you tell me, My Beauty?
You turn and stop..,
you look at me with your wistful eyes,
your luscious lips are apart, but you remain voiceless…
The pearl in your ear shines ~
light on your face shimmers mysteriously,
your eyes are calm ~ reflecting, refracting
the depth of your emotions…
those dove-like eyes are artist’s inspiration!
The topaz blueness of your headscarf
with which you have covered your sensuality,
surround your face with serenity of
the ocean, gleaming emerald green
of your dress evokes the unspoilt
beauty of your youth…..
You are not what you appear
to many souls in this mundane world…
they don’t see the painter’s Muse…
You are the nymph, who visited me
for a rare moment of tranquility,
the Pearl shone, an iridescent
gem sparkling, opening your heart~
You remain immortal in my creation...
my masterpiece?!
April 25, 2022
For Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
THIRD PLACE
Categories:
headscarf, girl, muse,
Form:
Ekphrasis
A face pack guaranteed to make Miffy’s face look year’s younger.
She had never had enough suiters to add up to a husband, so she bought it.
She packed it on one Saturday night, and avoided church on Sunday.
For the face pack refused to come off.
For weeks she refused to go anywhere, thinking it would fade.
Nothing took it off, even the sun did not fade it. It was azure blue.
She started going to the market, and to other places, little by little.
She wore a large headscarf, and diverted her head but the kids saw her.
“Hey Mom! There is that Blue Lady!” they would yell.
People renamed her Blue Lady and she became popular.
People liked her better than they had ever liked her before.
She was nicer now, kinder, more empathetic.
She understood people with trauma a lot better now.
She was not as quick to judge.
A wonderful man decided to date her.
The night before their wedding her face pack fell off.
Fate in her best moment.
Categories:
headscarf, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Monorhyme
soft
raven
jet 'BLACK'
short
puffy
afro 'BLACK'
thick
matted
tangled hair
unstyled
unkempt
headscarf
seals my 'BLACK'
thick
course
wavy
nappy headed grave
coil
curl
twist
my fingertips
pleasant sore
my 'BLACK' hair scorn
rapunzel hair weave
creamy crack relaxer
black hair hatred
hair expresses rotten
yet and still what is to love 'BLACK' hair
Categories:
headscarf, america, beauty, betrayal, dark,
Form:
Free verse
For my friend Angela Rickaway
She Stayed Strong
Overwhelming feelings should make her heart go weak
Facing cancer head on with no sound of a shriek
She stands firm planted in true love
SHE STAYED STRONG
Knowing that her strength comes from Above
Her beautiful eyes so ever baby blue bold
I’m sure there’s much pain she still hasn’t told
But even in the darkest hours she digs deep in her soul
For the love of her true friends blesses her tenfold
She stands firm planted in true love
SHE STAYED STRONG
Knowing that her strength comes from Above
Her enchanting headscarf proves powerful at site
She is her own superhero so sexy in her fight
Her strength and courage arose with living will
Her time is ever precious more years here she shall fill
She stands firm planted in true love
SHE STAYED STRONG
Knowing that her strength comes from Above
Categories:
headscarf, cancer,
Form:
Free verse
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET: PART FOUR
ALMERÍA / UMM AL-MARIYA 2007 AD / 1427 AH
The traveler who journeys to the City of Almería
arrives at a port where the routes of the ferries,
the whitecaps and waves, the salt-leaden gusts in
the searing white heat, the sculptures of dolphins
manifested at play on the boulevard perpendicular
to the sterns of great ships, reveal windows and
mirrors in which every reflection is a perplexing
distortion, generating questions impossible to
answer with the images at hand
Ciudad Almería is Umm Al-Mariya,
A city with barrios named Al-Musalá, Al-Medina,
Al-Haud, where visionary souls at the College of
Architects draw invisible lines from the markets of Fez
the minarets of Essaouira to the courtyards and gardens
of an Andalusia making paradise landscapes of red tiles
and roses, wrought-iron and jasmine, and burbling
fountains as seductive as the curvature of Arabic script;
where every dark eye under every headscarf, under
every skull cap, beneath flat-brimmed sombreros and
every dark curl blowing free in the breezes between
mountains and sea, sees only itself colored café con
leche, burned walnut by sunlight, yet never identical to the
likenesses imagined when they think of themselves;
and where luminous women with irresistible smiles
think in African tongues and laugh loudly in public, look
you straight in the eye and in their accented Spanish
offer no explanation for the browning of Spain
The intelligent observer see ships every day
link Morocco and Algeria with Al-Andalus, their
sleek silhouettes mimic seabirds and dolphins,
their windows and lights and the curves of their hulls
a mosaic of facets which, distorted by water, make city
and the sea seem a shimmering collage taunting resident
and visitor with fragmented images of who he once was
and who she might become, but never an inkling of
who they are now!
Emanuel Carter
Categories:
headscarf, christian, history, islamic,
Form:
Free verse
Dedicated to Ed Sheeran
Inside the glass the dry leaf was manifested, as a skeleton is prominent with all the inside structure and artistry.
I went to the voting center. I had nothing , completely nothing in my mind. Beto O'Rourke, some democratic other names , but I was not daydreaming, I was not dreaming at all, in a grown up body, I learn so little, after putting so much efforts, I feel I am getting washed away, and nothing sits there, nothing gets deposited there, as silt, sedimentation of particles, nothing too much sensual either. It gets washed away, as the river flows, as a present body embedded in the nature, out in the flora and fauna.
I had a ride. She is a beauty, with headscarf and white skin, she is a mirror of the past. flavor of cooked mosul of next door neighbor, where we had a big big masjid on the other side of the road, the name of the masjid was Minar Masjid.
The minaret was truly beautiful, and the curvature , also. Older days, in Bangladesh.
We reached the destination. She met a random person. I had so many complicated nuances in my introspection that I hardly talk about that. There is a narrow lane to be tagged as inferiority complex, and opening up about truer issues, where lights are making the pathway as our intentions are reflected on that.My mom was a old fashioned beauty, an old one, but vintage enough like the most delicate motif, as I touch the threads beyond time, without cherishing too much, without mourning too much for perishing either.
She was never an outspoken person. My older sister had a maxi, a long gown, a greenish one. Amma mended the gown for me, a downsized one, and did embroidery on the chest with pink and green threads. Her knitting was with a style, a reserved one.
Not every morn brings her back. Not these days. Not too often.
Categories:
headscarf, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
I met a woman fleeing from the triad.
Crossing on a ferry, far from her home
She told me of the life she once had.
In Bosphorus, struggling to hold on.
Her hair was wrapped in a headscarf.
Dreamed about the changes coming.
with a shy smile and freckles spark
the stigma the held began revealing.
That bravest of desire to gain freedom.
Where family dignity does not agree.
That would see her being disowned.
Left to live by myself as a divorcee.
Urbanize, families struggling to manage.
Change is coming by liberal ideas.
within the institution of marriage.
Even in the vast conservative places.
Have Petty old status blowing in the wind.
Freedom has a sense of empowerment.
Familiar friends are left behind.
By subversive acts crossing the continent.
Categories:
headscarf, change, courage, desire, freedom,
Form:
Free verse
all you serious, and formally trained poets, please excuse my satire, but a guy
born in Brooklyn NY, (me)- really gets a kick out of this somewhat pretentious
classification system for something, to me, is as simple as merely conveying a
thought, emotion, idea, image, etc. If it ain't natural, it ain"t real. Don't get mad at
me, I'm obviously "mad" already!!
ABC Verse-(poems written or performed on Sesame Street?)
Carpe Diem-(an ex-Vietnamese leader who happed to be a fish?)
Chastushka-(an old, heavy Russian woman yenta?) (or the headscarf she
wears?) (or another Russian forrest comet strike?)
Cinquain- (a man made and manufactured maleria med, given in 5 parts?)
Classicism- (an exorcism for a classy person?)
Cherihew- (a French axe for lovers?)
Concrete- (a Mafia burial material?)
Couplet- (2 lovers allowed to "do their thing"?)
Cowboy- (a hybrid mix of a young male human and a domestic female cattleof
genus Bos?)
Crystalline- (stalagnites, or expensive young female stemware?)
Diamantie- (a new Honda auto?)
Didactic- (a guy who finally cleans his attic?)
Diminished Hexaverse- (a witch's evil spell spoken in a poetic manner in a very
soft voice?)
Dizain- (either a hair restoration product prone to make the user dizzy, a
deceased Jazz musician, or a new cleaning product introduced by, yes, you got it -
Billy Mays!!!!)
Dodoitsu- (a new form of Japanese martial art created specifically for the near-
extinct Do-Do bird?)
More to come.............
Categories:
headscarf, allegory, art, education, funny,
Form:
Burlesque
Your soul left your eyes
as you laid there and died
on that dirty Iranian street
They hovered o’er you –
to shield; cover you
but you took your last breath at their feet
The blood ran so dark
from beneath your headscarf
as your mother took hold of your hand
She rocked to and fro
and cried - even though
you were already dead in the sand
You’d made your voice strong
as you chanted your song
before bullets tore into the crowd
I couldn’t comprehend
what your cause was … and then
(they covered your face with a shroud)
Whether wrong or be right;
whatever the fight
no matter the country or name
This we ALL understand
that it favors no man
universally , DEATH is the same
Categories:
headscarf, death,
Form:
Rhyme
A widescreen angle of a steel rimmed fish is rumored to be rhymed with the stark motionless spectacles which are glimmering on the small oak table akin to spare ratchets or a rusted piece of metal. It is imperative on this particular journey to have ten arms sixty legs and a large tubular head. Now that looks especially nice in a headscarf of pure wool, nylon or even silk. Woven weaves without weeks. And weekends are not waiting so why waste a wader in a washing up bowl. To fish in a soup is to discover long lost particles. And particles can be very clever and charming when telling stories of oaths truths, and historical beams. Wow. Whose whooshing came out then? Was it the little pile of leaves or was it the dustbin bag? Who is to say that delivering a note to a goblin house would not exact great change in a cuckoo clock. So don't change a light bulb with a semi cable of carcass then. Haha rowing boats are arriving filled with French fries and salsas in tutus. Hahaha pink mustard jam jelly equals yum yum yum said an elephant to a bullfrog. Haha telephone smiling at a beanstalk talking. Xxxxx cumbersome cakes xxxxx recommendations zzzzzzz.~
Categories:
headscarf, blessing,
Form:
Anticipated for, all of a sudden
I had to lay a grip on my hat
And hold close my unbuttoned button-less jacket
As the old ladies bend over for the swift of the dress
And young ones reach out for a headscarf, either as bag or book
Yet the lower generation sprint for the front door, home comfort
And as the spark! Bling! Bling!
And the creepy darkness
Split! Split! Splat!
Showers here and there
And for a moment, I dived into deep thought
'Should I return back home, but I have made it this far'
'If I revert now, wet knows me no more'
'But returning is quitting, throw in the day laid ahead'
'What if...' a slash before mine eyes and I skip I beat
For all the thoughts episode, yet still moving forth
Watching every step I take yet I step into a puddle of mud, dirt
And turning off my skin senses, to ignore every drop splashing on me
To rush ain't an option, as I felt a running stream down my spine
And mine clothing gaining weight by every second
As I watched the drops dripping down from my jacket arms
Then I set mine gaze towards the bus stop
For it's the only hope before me, checkpoint
As she continues to Rain on Me...
Space-Poet
02/10/2017
Categories:
headscarf, rain,
Form:
Narrative
A fire burns orange and bright
in stark contrast against
the black Bohemian sky,
crackling hard over sounds
of a furious pen scratching
coffee stained parchment,
pausing to stoke flames,
reflect inward, and slurp
crudely a harsh, smoky brew.
Breathing in deep the
bitter, caffeinated aroma,
choking, expelling forth;
returning its essence
in a visceral act
of vulgar gratitude.
With a deep groan
his broken body relaxes
while a gust of salty air
tousles the long, black hair
free beneath a headscarf
of deep reds and blacks
mirroring the gritty color
palette so salient
in his art and aura.
Annoyance sits heavy
on his weathered face,
knotted like the cut wood
burning hot and fierce
in destructive release
of the flaring ire within.
What secrets lie bare
in that leather
bound journal?
What surly words
spill forth from
fountain ink and fury?
Is he looking for a way out?
Or, by his own words,
does he seek the way in?
Categories:
headscarf, anger, grief, people,
Form:
Free verse
They pass my window every day
the young, the old, the tired, the grey,
the little woman going to church,
the teenage lover left in the lurch,
the silver haired lady, a faded ingénue,
the argumentative couple with children, two.
The retired school teacher with the nervous tic,
the lady in a headscarf walking very quick,
the Jehovah's witnesses who hover by and by,
looking and wondering is it worth another try?
The postman with a parcel, always for next door,
the reluctant school kid, wondering what education's for?
I sit and watch this panoply of ordinary everyday folk,
laughing, crying, interacting, sharing a current joke,
and wonder at the diversity of the people that I see,
and think how strange and wonderful and funny we can be.
Categories:
headscarf, imagery, people,
Form:
Rhyme
She was an ancient woman and
I used to see her
every rainless early morning.
She always wore an overcoat
a headscarf, and thick and wrinkled
old woman's stockings.
Her gaunt and stubborn shuffle was ever being overtaken
by pairs of cheerful ladies,
so confident
in brightly overburdened lycra.
They would send friendly words in her direction
and she would nod them gentle smiles in return.
I always knew that one fine day would dawn
when she,
and her headscarf, overcoat and thickly wrinkled hose,
would have become what all becomes.
.
And so the footpath now is theirs, the pairs,
of cheerful ladies
so confident in brightly overburdened lycra
and forever XXL.
Categories:
headscarf, moving on,
Form:
Free verse
I woke up to an embracing sun
I had heart to heart talk with a lady in a white coat
I saw a hyacinth purple flower
The color purple made me supple
I was floating in a happy bubble
I witnessed a mother-daughter bond that no disease can steal
I wore a headscarf that won many eyes, including my own
Then I went to bed in the watch of a full moon
If I could pick a day, this would be it
Am glad I lived to experience it
Categories:
headscarf, beauty, blessing, happiness, uplifting,
Form:
Free verse