Tresses Poems - Poems about Tresses

Why in his presence, did her soft heart, always like sweet cotton candy melt? Orchestral songs engendered the tenderest feelings, to her heart, so aquamarine velvet. Such starlit, subtle, shameless, suggestive glances! An antennae in every way was she, inviting kaleidoscopic, tsunamic romances. On the fog cradled ship, with a cape of fog, blessing her chiseled,moonbeam face, His...

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Few sing of raven’s ebony, Fewer still of its shining plume, The glory of her grey tresses Oft glisten my life’s every gloom. Now that the dawn has turned to dusk, I’ll not talk of bowers in bloom, Nor buds that blossomed before time, How her fragrance had filled the room. No use nursing old memories, Nor yet wiping them off with broom, Soul dwells...

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When the shadows of evening cling to the night's tresses, I open my soul and confess to the silence, Like a canary lost in the mist of my thoughts, You were trapped in the cage of life, unable to fly towards the azure skies. But the wind passed by in an unrestrained hurry, Past your cage with its silver lock, I...

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We have to tease your tresses and kissing is your lips. This is my heart's desire. Do not you stop me now... We have to tease your tresses and kissing is your lips. Heart does, love you. Hiding in the eyes,I remember. No one else here today. When I see your beauty. We have to play in your arms and sink in these eyes. This is my...

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Her golden tresses float one by one-- down No longer her crowning glory; simply a reminder of what was-- what cannot be-- tormented by those perfect coiffures surrounding. She would gather gossamer strands to bosom, had she one to do so; perhaps, even collect them to be worn again. If only there were strength to be had.... Yet fortitude flew like Spring taking with it the...

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I am a sucker for long black hair, darker the better, know it’s not fair, though like some reds, ebon's my fave, occasional highlights can make me rave. Prefer it soft, not too much curl, no length too long, windswept fine furl. Bound in a braid, the stylist well paid creation so lovely on shoulder laid. Or behind flowing, like waterfall, shiny and magic...

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Like a yarn spindle was she Pear shaped_ bottom heavy Born with honey colored hair and very fair Loved by her mother and her father's pride Life was good in their loved filled little home Soon another maiden fair Joined the family clan Just like an aunt was she with raven colored hair Blessed with hour-glass figure danity hands and feet The spindle and...

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Watch the multi-tasking drivers talking on the phone. This is a story of our daily life-style that we overlook and condone. Recognize the familiar a.m. and p.m. rush-hour cast? Could this be you in traffic on the 405 Fwy? Or Sepulveda Pass? We’re a self-selected group of L.A people here, Chasing “The American Dream” with Gucci, anxiety...

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