Wild Hair Poems

My hair is wild, as wild as can be. 
It sticks out in all sorts of places, 
It goes through many fits and stages, 
You...

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In threads of midnight, spun with care,
A canvas woven, beyond compare.
Each strand a brushstroke, fine and bold,
Wild hair, just looking so bold.

A crown of coils,...

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Veiled by clever branches, limbs
silken strands, protecting me
from the eyes who’re like pseudonyms
beckoning with iris’ clever and wild

secreted beneath gossamers, flowing
in whispers of hope for...

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My hair is a whimsical canvas my crown
It’s so versatile pinned up or flowing down
An expression of my natural creativity 
Hair is a blessing of...

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Today, my hair is jazz—
wild coils improvising in the wind,
syncopated with no apology.
It scats when I walk,
riffs when I laugh,
and plays the truth off-key
because it...

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She walks like she’s carrying invisible things, memories stitched into the curve of her spine, questions no one’s ever answered clinging to her sleeves. The...

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Once, wild herds of elephants blew trumpets
as spiced tea and jam slathered crumpets 
brightly declared the sun would shine soon,
snapping the spell of a thin...

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Olivia offered oatmeal to her obstinate dragon Oscar Lee.
He stared at her, wondering “is she trying to kill me?”
“Do not want it,” he told her....

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FICTIONAL BIO:

The missus asked me
(hitherto known as her bozo)
just mere moments ago
to craft humorous poem to glow
nsync with the shiny nose of Rudolph
keeping syncopated metrical...

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She tosses her hair into the wind with wild abandon and hope.
Her ways wise and wonderful, power tree is as pure as Ivory soap.
I stand...

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How lucky can one man be
To have the love and friendship
Of so many sweet adorable people
Here on the Soup... male and female
It's like a love-in...

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The wind brushes her red mane wild and untamed, lifting her gown
A trance sweeps and sways her figure while bright orbs surround her
Transported to other...

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Slick it down with wax
     It fits a crook

  Tho' it could also be 
     a...

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Every Spring there’s a battle cry 
from deep within the South;
It raises the hair of millions for miles;
Tempers rise and just continue to climb 
brushes...

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Your fingers are in my hair,
while whispering softly.
Wild, latent passion flows from a glass of wine.
*
Hands are on the body;
I tremble at your touch.
A bite...

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