The night was torn with a silver cry,
A voice like thunder’s
The world grew dim, the velvet black
Enfolded him and gave him back
A crown of thorns and iron flame,
And music wrapped around his name.
He walked through smoke, through shards of glass,
A mirror cracked from every past,
Yet in his gaze there burned a spark—
A child still dreaming in the dark.
Not heaven’s hymn nor devil’s sneer
Could make him bow or disappear;
He sang for those the night forgets,
For haunted boys and pale brunettes.
With trembled hands and haunted smile,
He danced along the razor’s mile—
Yet never once did he betray
The wild, electric break of day.
I would have known him in a dream,
Among the stars, a crimson gleam—
His voice a bell that shook the skies,
A hymn for all the world's goodbyes.
He loved as only broken do,
With howls that pierced the silence through,
And though the years may bow his head,
The song remains, and is not dead.
A prince not born but forged in fire—
He gave his blood to lift us higher.
Oh circular scrunchie
How are you ?
You have been tangled up in women’s hair
For far too long
Scratching the long curly beads
Of millions of youngish females worldwide
For decades now
Connecting brunettes blondes and redheads alike
Protecting the very fabric of femininity
Women’s scalps
Oh bless you oh scrunchie
You are a true survivor
A true victor
Worthy of many accolades
A symbol of strong women everywhere
No more need for Bobby pins
Ponytails are a thing of the past
Long live the scrunchie!
Hair today and here tomorrow!
he likes brunettes but i was blonde
he likes the darkness but the sun is my favourite
he wakes up early but i like to stay up late
I dye my virgin hair. brunette now
i hide from the sun and learn to love the dark
i became a morning person, will he like me
however now he likes blondes
and loves to soak up the sun
he’s awake all night now
i changed for him
but now he prefers the way i was
why doesn’t he want me? now or then
i changed for his attention
for his love
and yet now or then
i’m still not the one
Sympatric Aphrodite,
wide photographic opportunity
We bow to our natural needs
Her glare, to all our hopes
The actresses' deft chin, glacial
A mountain of irses
Gadfly 1970s
Where blondes and brunettes
co exist
Dream on the fantasy
Brown boots, high heels
drifting in Autumns air
once i was a contender
riding rough shed over feelings and sighs
i had a yearning light
my lambast kisses unmerited
I would unsmile
Brunettes took their vows
weeping away their beauty when I rode
once I was a lover, and they came to bed
Once I was a clown
breaking the silence of the night
i shone the correct anger
between sharp lyric
and loneliness
The Angels called on me
despite being alive
Finally, I came to know all men don't like breasts
Some say with women's flower are just like spike breasts
Traffic rules should be written on shirts of road girls
Perhaps there'll be no gaze which won't strike breasts
Tonight, I'm going to sleep with hundred fairies
Not just arms - and please don't mind if I so vike - "breasts"
Don't go rough - You ain't only one for me tonight
Many more have them so soft if you have tike breasts
Everyone has one's own choice but I've not special
Ah! brunettes with pinkish lips, young and with kike breasts!
Love in pairs becomes a boring habit at last
It does not increase with age as is unlike breasts
September 19, 2022
All blondes wear diamond rings and drive Mercedes so old.
All brunettes wear green straw hats and plant marigolds.
All tall people play golf on Saturdays and are Methodists winkers.
All Americans are overweight donut-eating, chocolate milk drinkers.
All Africans wear their hair in braids, and despise tattoos of a girl.
All Mexicans like hot taco sauce and dance in a frenzied whirl.
All old people want to be young, and resent their mother.
All only children want siblings, wishing they had a brother.
All men want a crazy, out-of-control woman in their bedroom.
All divorcees want to marry a millionaire who is not full of gloom.
All Republicans want a dictator to be president who is angry and blue.
All liberals want to give free food to the undocumented, and do.
The minute you think of people as a group of “all” you are wrong.
Please memorize this poem, and sing it as a song.
If you cannot see this by now, then I must join the throng.
For I have written this poem entirely wrong.
It is those brunettes you must look out for Jim warned Sam
Sam did not listen; he was totally smitten
Ate at the Honky-tonk Diner daily
To get a whiff of Miranda.
She smelled better than his grandma’s lap from when he was four,
Better than his mother’s bubble bath he remembered.
She exuded a magical mystical fragrance
Ivory Soap? Avon's Sweet Honesty from the seventies?
It did not matter. She was wholesome and pretty.
Her hair shone like a campfire in the sunlight.
He like Honky-tonk burgers, but he was here for her.
Jim rolled his eyes.
She’s dangerous, he warned him. “Sure, she looks safe, but….
Hey! Who is that?” Apparently, there was a new waitress.
Another auburn headed delight, she looked like a girl next door,
They were both in trouble now.
To the right of this screen, what should I see?
An ad for a company calling themselves "Rosewe".
They sell clothes for women that are a bit hefty.
The models are the type of women that appeal to me.
I clicked the ad to see a little more.
There were many other women I could easily adore.
Blondes, brunettes, and redheads galore.
These kinds of females do tantalize.
Their feminine charms are in extra-large size.
They were only images on my computer screen.
If they only came to life, wouldn't that be mean!
“I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no girl reaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try“
(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction by The Rolling Stones
NO SATISFACTION
Relinquishing clothes, unrestrained except for those
blankets that keep us, until our skins warm, underneath.
Tingling so close, there’s a rapture in magnetic attraction.
Mussing with hair, touching his whiskers, the slowness
of lips draped, the parting of their waves, the tongues
talking without words, unexplained beauty. Breaths, beats
forgotten, mind elsewhere attracted, until the peak of
winterscape, where the wind moans, the wolf howls,
the thunder of stallions’ throes, damp sheets in flames.
Head looks to God
with eyes closed
Smiles on the ground
beneath muscular riptide
Knees no longer ache
Arms prepared to lumberjack
Dreamy eyes
flutter
Brunettes’ hair askew
Blanketed cool flesh
No satisfaction explained away
rock’n roll our way
11/2/2020
Fair Lady
Brown, hazel, green eyes and blue. God made the descendants
of Europe beautiful too.
Brunettes and blonds,
Reds, highlights - various disguises.
Displaying God’s beauty
in various shapes and sizes.
God made us all beautiful in his sight.
Blond Joke
Yesterday as I was walking down the street
I saw an old friend who was quick to greet.
During our visit a joke he did tell
about a blonde who didn’t reason too well.
She saw a Cheerio box and thought it to be
donut seeds to plant under a tree.
After a forced laugh I thought “what a sap;
why is it that blondes get such a bad rap."
How could a creature with looks so fair
be judged merely by the color of her hair?
This certainly doesn’t seem so right
for blondes to be sentenced to such a blight.
After pondering the issue I reached this conclusion
the ignorance of blondes is just an illusion
that is created by the jealousy of nerdy brunettes
who are terminally homely and lacking in assets.
Many blondes out there are smarter than you think;
they will out-wit you before you can blink.
When you next hear a blonde joke, think of this;
there is a brunette somewhere with something amiss.
There once was a bus trip to taken
two groups was trouble in the making
All women, need I say more
whose beauty men could not ignore
Brunettes thought to be smarter
blondes needed to try harder
To this they were unaware
just trying to be fair
A massive double decker bus
to safety all would entrust
The final decision made
brunettes on bottom, blondes on top
driver delighted, these women are hot
As the trip began, screaming was heard
from the ones above, how absurd
thought the dark haired beauties
Those blondes act so snooty
and they're well, kind of dumb
to this fact we've become numb
But now there is all this drama
have to care for them like their mamas
Brunettes inquire as to what was wrong
this trip was planned for so long
We are having a blast, can you
try to enjoy this while it lasts
Blondes exclaiming
we want off this bus !!
our safety we no longer entrust
You chose the bottom on purpose
so you could sit back and hurt us
You schemers and connivers
at least you have a driver !!!!!
In our late teens down at the pub
we talked of things we liked.
Rock 'n roll,brunettes and blondes,
Mustangs and Norton Bikes.
Time's moved on and things have changed
and all of this has led
to talk of laying paving slabs and weatherproofing sheds.
Instead of worshipping our favourite bands
like Slade, Led Zep and Bolan
I now find that I hold a torch for the eldest of the Nolans.
Greasy skin and acne were the only things to blight us
long since replaced by varicose veins and rheumatoid arthritis.
The book of life we all must learn has reached the centre page
the staples coldly telling us that we've now reached middle age.
Still, if life is but a long hard race, the TT if you like,
I'm thankful I'm still in it and I ain't come off me bike.
There once was a man named Bond
Who loved brunettes, redheads and blonde
Till one came, and just say
"Mr. Bond, this is for you"
And she killed him, right there by the pond!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2014
October,5,2014
Related Poems