Long Headbands Poems
Long Headbands Poems. Below are the most popular long Headbands by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Headbands poems by poem length and keyword.
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
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
City Mayor Zohran Mamdani to open the Museum of Palestinian History in New York
You'd never see a place like this
A must to visit, don't miss
The magnet for riff-raff and scum
For stupid, blind, "left" and dumb
A place to fester hate and rot
One perfect spacious meeting spot
No other town but in our city
A stain of shame and a pity
A ton of things go on display:
The endless “martyrs”, foul play
Subversion of thy neighbors’ lands
Black uniforms and green headbands
The rain of rockets and attacks
The gangsters levy heavy tax
Corruption like you’ve never seen
Payback for crimes, the gruesome scene
Hamas, the tunnels, kids with guns
The moms so proud of blown-up sons
Jews’ murder celebrated wide
And broken trust, a source of pride
"Mein Kampf", the Fuhrer's own book
Yasser, Sinwar, their rabid look
Where there's a knife there is Quran
"Allah Akbar" - the master plan
Antisemitic plots galore
To kill them Jews, and war, war, war
The dreams of "river to the sea"
And Paly state to never be
Of wasted chances and deception
Still-born ambitions, from inception
Not live in peace, but kill and maim
With tears staged and shifting blame
The halls of hatred, blood and lies
The theft of funds and wasted lives
Just what we need, I tell you, brother
Shall be museum like no other
July 28, 2026
New York City
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 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.
sun-burst yellows, overtake the yard.
dancing amid the clover and the grasses.
sharing their joy with surround green.
delighted children pluck them too close.
checking them under their chins.
older ones carefully secure their stems too,
wisely weaving them into headbands, earrings,
bracelets, and other beautiful decorative items.
these yellow heads prance happily as new-formed jewelry.
after they are discarded,
scents of fluff floating onto zephyrs
in a variety of meadows and prairies
delighting in their free selves
gently alighting on petals and buds
gleaming with sparkle known only to faeries
and possibly the purest of heartfelt elves
dandelion magic, gone right.
Written 4-2-2019
Contest: Dandelions
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
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
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.
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.
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