Best Split Ends Poems
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!)
anniversary, bird, change, courage, immigration, mystery, sky,
'Geese' Hiaku: 'Ode to the Canadian Goose'!
Canada’s Geese © HAIKU
All Northern Geese ‘crop’
Seasonal tour ‘reruns’ twice!
Returning again!
Flag-poled Staff © HAIKU
Two pilots each tour
One Canadian goose ‘flagpoles’
Two tails split ends!
Canada Geese Fly By! ©HAIKU
Touristic ‘fly-bys’
Soar far north in summer months
Down south in winter!
Canadian Geese © HAIKU
Arrow signs direct
Sky-masses of geese ‘elites’
Comings and goings!
Flights Yesteryear© HAIKU
Canadian Geese consent
To ‘v-shaped’ sky-tipped arrow points
Past’s learnt direction!
Canada Geese Tours © HAIKU
‘Fly-by' Geese Tourism
Northerner or Southerner
Two seasons a year!
Canadian Geese Vacation © HAIKU
Arrow signs direct
'V-trailing' geese to the sky
Masses 'enlist' onward!
Flights To Yesteryear© HAIKU
Canadian Geese mark
'V-shaped' (sky) tipped arrow-points
Aged-mapped destinies!
My first love - when we ended,
They told me to pray to God,
And that he would make time,
My new best friend.
And with the love I had for you,
The despair I would fall out of.
My second love - when we ended,
They did not tell me anything,
For what really could they say?
I sit and watch the hands of grace,
Embalming memories of emotion.
Love forbidden to ever die but,
Peace in how under time it hides.
So I still know,
In spirits and parallels,
I am still with you both,
And this was never written.
#2
From a brunette final encore,
they told me to pray to God,
and that he would make time
my new best friend.
And with the love I had for you,
the despair I would fall out of, but
when blond strands reached split ends,
they did not tell me anything,
for what really could they say?
I sat and watched the hands of grace,
embalming memories of emotion.
Love forbidden to ever die, but
peace in how under time it hides.
So I still know,
in spirits and parallels,
I am still with you both,
and this was never written.
7 Haiku Geese
Canadian Geese do point
Fly in ‘V’ shaped directives
Past’s learnt directions!
….didee © HAIKU
*Arrow signs direct
Sky-masses of geese elites
Comings and goings!
…..didee ©HAIKU
*All northern geese
Bid ‘fly-byes’ seasonally
Spring and winter tours!
….didee © HAIKU
Our geese have great flocks
Soaring far north in summer
Down south in winter!
….didee © HAIKU
Two pilots each tour
One Canadian goose ‘flagpoles
Two tails split ends!
…. didee © HAIKU
We waited the winter long
For your passing now in spring
Bringing summer soon!
….didee©HAIKU
Checking all my emails is becoming quite a chore
my inbox piling up with offers I've never asked for
there's one here from a dating site that says I've got no friends
and one's a cure for balding and it also cures split ends
this latest one has got some nerve and left me really miffed
it claims that I am crap in bed and helps me to get stiff
the pop-up tablet advert claims I need to lose some weight
plus a free tub of some cream because my skin is in a state
Although I have deleted them I don't feel really mad
coz when I sit and think about it-
four out of five ain't bad............
Just Strands of Straw
I look into the mirror,
my hair has dropped to the sink.
It is a trail of tears,
years of taking care of split ends,
fluffing and drying,
tying it up,
leaving it down…
now, just gone.
My crown of glory
it is…
gone.
Maybe
and
more than likely,
forever…
Yet the Glory of My Lord,
is ever upon me,
shinning brightly,
in all
of…
His Light!
Yes, my hair has fallen,
to the floor.
I have not.
I am loved
and
cherished.
He sees,
“me”.
To prove that she just did not care
She tossed all her clothes in the air
Her father would scream
Whilst mum ate ice cream
And the postman sighed, "What a pair!"
Gummi Bare
Freddy had a rubber dolly
Designed to be, "Freddy's Folly"
Out of the blue
She proved untrue
And bounced off the bed with Wally
Teenage Trauma
Wanda & May Bee were very best friends
Like all teenagers they followed the trends
In all kinds of weather
They would cry together
Their world was ending; they both had split ends!
I’m chopping it off
All of it, you hear?
This long black hair
Down past the middle of my waist
Sleek and shiny with
Past defects and
Too many wasted bottles of shampoo
Trying to cleanse myself of my mistakes
It doesn’t work
It doesn’t work
Split ends that rise
To corrupt my roots
I tame with vials of conditioner
To make the pain easier to run through your fingers
He loves to run
His fingers
Through my
Softest pain
To twist it around his fingers
Easier to manipulate
He’s using it against me
I can’t lug my history with me
Everywhere I go
Brushing it
Trying to comb out the exact instant
Of my errors
I relive it everyday
Between each strand of ebony
That entwines it’s soft whisper
Of my grief
I mess up so much
I can’t sustain this ideal of beauty
Brushing up against my skin
Soaking into my pores
Filling me up with regret and such a wasted
Desire
To please
Him
All I ever wanted was to be beautiful for you, baby
But I’m chopping it off
All of it, you hear?
This long black hair
Down to here
Letting go of raven haunts, lost loves
Million dollar tears
Each strand of ebony
That is lacerated
That cascades to the floor
Gives me liberty
And I let go
because
All I ever wanted was to be beautiful for you, baby
The fireworks glaze the corners of my eyes
But I can't see, the bombs falling all around me
The rushing blood pumping through my legs
I can feel glaucoma coming with every scream
Grasping the chalky stone near my knees
A black sky, alight with frozen mitochondria
A gibbous moon passes this outer lined disease
Clenching my chest, a latrine of hypochondria
Walking back through the city for my apartment
Bumping into each bystander my indifference can reach
Lossless complaints printed upon a crinkled parchment
My apathetic tendencies swim through this tar soaked beach
Preparing my makeshift bed and wishing I could pretend
That soaking my throat in lorazepam will melt my ice cold cornea
That this melting pillow will strip all my split ends
That this night wouldn't suffer from mental palinopsia
god, tell me how we got
this far
the other side of i-love-you
flipped over, faced down photograph of spring
before pink bled into red?
I hugged cherry trees and dug fingernails
into thick bark, your sweater
rain-soaked wool
I gave you august
but the heatwave killed your mockingbird
scattered my songs and in the silence
the facet dripped
by a sink, my hair on your lips
thin split ends
leaves fell along the eastern front
while the west wept dandelions?
they clung to your windscreen wiper
swish, swoosh
under dead snow
five feet deep, scared to melt past 3 am?
after another hurried kiss
you burned the ten dollar yard-sale bible
two pages, close enough
for blasphemy
and the muttered nonsense of
it's going to be okay
What shimmers yonder blowing in the wind
What smooth and glowing curls unfurl out there
Take wing in Spring like yellow gods spaghetti
Glowing with the morning sunbeams just beginning
Pretty girls are a dime a dozen
Like street cars they pass by
But ugly Betty is on my mind
Her gentle smile is quite delicious
Dainty, even vaguely crooked from a distance
Yet serenely she walks down the street oblivious
Not knowing exactly what is on my mind, she blinks
It's not what's in her head that peeks my interest
That excites my curiosity
I'm certain there's lots of air in there to spare
But what's on top, planted on that bulbous skull
Lovely women ask for money that is not mine
I have none to give at this or any other time
What causes intrigue is something other
One curl, one lock of hair from my ugly lover
Is all I desire in this cruel and balding world
Is that too much to ask for in these desperate hours
Love has no split ends without desires spent
What I would not give for one slice of it left to lament
My blade comes out of sheath
It doth not or does not speak
It craves something as much as I
Takes on a life of its own to slice
Enough! Must we brake all laws of nature
Is theft of hair not criminal
Doth or does grammar have no say in such matters
Tragic, epic, done or simply uttered, thought or thunk
To see me through longer days or shorter hair cuts
Her hair and no other shampooed and showered
One strand of it so shimmering, so shiny, undone
I pray for a peaceful day or night but neither commeth
One lock of gold hair so smooth would do
So shiny it actually shimmers as it glows
But no longer grows
Chip and Dale were favorite cartoons of my sister and me.
With so much ***** and happiness, joyful they could be.
They ran around in chipmunk form and chittered away.
Making our cartoon fest much better every single Saturday.
Chip and Dale played tricks on other cartoon friends.
Their antics were silly and funny; without any mean split ends.
We laughed, tittered and chortled over these two in a funny way.
They were the highlight of our cartoon day, it was each Saturday
dead ends and crop circles
split ends and dark circles
everyone thinks i'm a mirror
i'm not the mirror, you are
lock me in your basement
i've got a strange, sick craving
in the painting, the heads are above me
but it's my blood they're using, you see
i remember being the one who killed the buzz
you remember me, the one you'd never thought could kill cuz
i used to have feelings but now i'm on medication
i don't need p*rn, cuz i have my imagination
rippin ur hair out at the thought of me not being what u think babe
i clash with ur c*m cuz i ain't sweeeet
i always carry these knives babe
you could kill me and i'd still live
ur a dog barkin up the wrong tree
ur a wolf howlin at the wrong moon
i remember being the one who killed the buzz
you remember me, the one you'd never thought could kill cuz
i used to have feelings but now i'm on medication
i don't need p*rn, cuz i have my imagination
rippin ur hair out at the thought of me not being what u think babe
i clash with ur c*m cuz i aint sweeeet
i've got chains wrapped around my thoughts
you've got a different set, around your doubts
like a flower that eats the flies
put your finger down my throat and see the truth arise
cuz i'm just acid in a body
Tall, naked trees
are slowly getting dressed
Tiny green polka dots adorning each appendage.
Strong winds force them into an unsynchronized dance
as the song turns to static in the switch of a dial.
The larger green polka dots weigh heavily on the arthritic arms
so delicate yet so strong.
A row of pine trees takes center stage
at the top of the mound carpetted in a net of brown, lifeless array.
Fragrant needles moving smoothly
like a ballerina twirlng in a child's jewelry box.
Ornamental grasses are peeking up out of the moist soil
like a newborn taking its first breath of air.
Thick, lush tufts of new follicles
abundantly sprout on the scalp of the Earth.
Unshampooed from last years dry leaves
and the split ends of each fallen branch.
Lying helpless, like an overprocessed hairdo.
The big, yellow balloon
with no string attached
looking down below
flashing a bright, warm smile
with the passing of each cloud
Her hair, blonde, is twisted in the wind.
The whipping strands are the colors
of the shinning cropland
by which she is standing. She is alone
by this golden feed that is bounteous; wholesome as breast milk, as youth.
Her young face is turned away,
though her face is radiant like the Sun,
her tresses the flames..
(Perhaps her locks are more like the hue
of the gold sought by the pioneers of the 1800's Gold Rush. Then again, no..)
Her face has freckles that are sorrel-dusky
sun-spots as the star roasts the "spires"
of the semolina(wheat).
The schoolgirl is poised,
the saffron spelt(wheat) is erect
under the royalty of the thermic Summer
empyrean(sky)-wherein a solitary cloud
is a blossom, full of grace,
yet a cloud is never delicate like the flower-
and the girl's tale is morbid..
as is the cancer caused by the sunshine.
The future Harvest is burned as the Sun
kills the land..the young lady
reaps an unquenchable lust 'til the cessation
of zoetic puissance.
Yet the flowerly nebula
becomes a cloudburst..
the sunlight shimmers;
her cilium(hair)
metamorphoses into gilt lavaliere(jewelry)-
a gleaming tiara.
And the ignited pedicle(stalks)
bend as the rain-drops sparkle. And yet
a maiden crown of light-
her fair-haired halo-travails a genesis,
within which the roots of the Earth
glaciate,
within which her strameneous mane
becomes like straw, easily snapped;
and is now shivery split ends.
'