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Anastasia Dec 2019
soft blonde hair
plush kisses on my cheek
fingers tracing circles
at the edge of the creek
confessions
and blushing cheeks
wiping tears
fixing the leaks
lips on skin
gentle heat
a warm summer day
with a love so sweet
Ashley Kaye Jul 2019
when you leaned to take my breath
out from under me
i almost say no but
Your eyes are very blue
Your hair very blonde
and I have the feeling
you would call me beautiful

i go to
highlight the sharpest bones
in my face
color my cheeks,
eyelids
ebony eyelids
**** caked kisses
speak volumized volumes

If it were just as simple
to grow a spine
July 19, 2019
Left Foot Poet Apr 2018
man (?)
the tomatoes?  

patty m.,
a grievous error thy commissioned

tomatoes are the quintessential feminine fruit
red juicy, round, curvy, sweet
with a flavor at once the same,
yet never again always different, diffident,
asized, and blonde or red, never contrived

without it,
would pizza be pizza?
without it,
would **** ***** love,
be merely a good salad

or a poem

ever be the same?

“me love tomatoes”
cookie monster
Cassia Jun 2019
you never had
a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl
the one who's sweet on your eye
the sort that you show off to your friends
that loves the world unconditionally
what you had was
a brown haired, hazel eyed girl
that loved you, adored you
but found she wasn't enough.
by the stars, she wasn't enough.
du du du...
Katinka Sep 2018
You
the one with messy brown hair
brown eyes
with you birthmark over the left side of your face.
You who left me crying.
You who made me believe in love for the first time.
You who stole my first kiss
first time
first.

You
with your straight blonde hair
blue eyes
and that stupid smirk
You who left me broken
You who showed me a new way of living
You who left me being second choice
second best
second.

You
with your dark blonde hair
hazel eyes
you with your beautiful hands
You who left me angry
You who showed me a different way of love
You who went with me on my third concert
third love
third.

You
with your curly brown hair
hazel eyes
with your cute braces you never liked
You who left me questioning
You who showed how hard love can be
You who decided I wasn´t worth it
You never happend
We never did.

I
with wavy dark brown hair
hazel eyes
with freckles on my face

I who loved everyone of you
but still couldnt forget you,
number two

I who loved everyone of you
but you left me wanting more,
number four

I who loved everyone of you
was being loved.
but not anymore.
Usally I write my poems on paper first, and then I will reread them and think about them, may make some changes and then upload them here. But in this very second I am just so full of emotion that I want to write and I want it to be honest so no rereading or correcting. Just me.
Andrew Philip Mar 2019
And we sat there
drinking cold beers
on a rainy front porch day
wondering how
there could be
so many good people
in such a sick
world.
Mark Parker Apr 2019
Sewn together to be torn apart,
bitten, beaten, ripped to pieces.
Put back together with used parts,
over time her quality decreases.
Drifting like petals in the gentle breeze,
the Doll goes where the wind blows.
She knows hell would have to freeze
in order to get a brand new set of clothes.
A ribbon wrapped to cover a tortured head,
wooden buttons and her bow colored red.
Notes of a blonde dolls life.
Christina iguala Apr 2019
I had a dream last night
of you and I  
we were together
Medicine Man and your Violent Blonde
walked Earth making each dry leaf
every crevices under our footsteps
turn to flame
Every step we took we were shifting into something
Infinite  
we ran making the world behind spring off into colors
of wild reds
oceans of blue
violent violets
we jumped into the coolness of yellow
we were creating a new world behind us  
we didn't look behind us
we just left the new world to be
Edie Aug 2019
Nosferatu     would have balked.
    I, too,    from myself do balk.
Circumnavigate     the   lily pond,
          Iron Lady in the    swaddling baking    egg pies,   with spited
     Curlers    in our    fronds   and — equanimity's edict — forest green-eyed addict —   is
A     plumbed    plum;    a dendritic denizen for    the   cypress,
Willow that   's hung!     Willow that sung!    Soothing it   hugs
     the    sights — such   sour honors  — so sooth the boy's club,
bring    me my   rose water   which drips   next to the
     chiffon and the    lubricated sewing table — the grape to-
  mato-mottled lunar  ligament: by  dew of the top lip, do lay —
     go gray    in taut winter
annh Nov 2019
Have you seen my granny?
She shoots like Johnny Wayne,
Smokes cigarettes like Garbo,
Sings like Kelly in the rain.

She's doubtless at the movies
Watching Audrey zip 'round Rome,
And wishing she were young enough
To run away from home.

My nana laughs like Rita,
Plays chess like Steve McQueen,
She smoulders like her heroes do
Up on that silver screen.

Have you seen my granny?
She loves Bogart and Bacall,
And in her dreams forever
She is blonde and six-foot tall.
Third verse NOT a team player. Will revisit. Gotta go!

‘Movies, to him and the majority of the planet, are an enhancement to a life. The way a glass of wine complements a dinner. I’m the other way around. I’m the kind of person who eats a few bites of food so that my stomach can handle the full bottle of wine I’m about to drink.’
- Patton Oswalt, Silver Screen Fiend: Learning About Life from an Addiction to Film
Vicki Kralapp Apr 2013
You came to me in dreams,
so handsome and strong.
Clothed in a summer dress  I met you,
hair upswept and face so young.  

You were my prince,
the one who made me want,
the one who made me whole,
the one who was my dream.

Tall and blonde you came to me
with sweet songs of how life could be.
In a life apart from mine;
a hopeful life of true devine.

You have come to me
to give me hope and to make me whole.
Guide me to your soul. Leap from my nights,
into this life awaiting your love.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
King Panda Jun 2017
night is precious
prey and
predator.

night is
whisper and
auscultation
of worried men.

night is blonde
bone removed from
the body.

night is stiletto
killer elite.

night is
my brightest
friend.

night,

leave
and take your
bell with
you.
pitch black god8 Aug 2018
~a question of a thousand dreams~^

“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”

this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the  every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes

but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen

these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white

elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red  
but
certainly unmine,  
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers

heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,

but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted  

she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated

and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
perchance to dream

3:49 pm

see the notes!!


someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago

so here is my response to
“just saying”

congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules

“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“

http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
lyric  from “Carry On”
by Crosby Stills Nash and Young

which is why it is in quotation marks

but you knew that already

my god strikes me dead ic I ever plagiarized in my life; no splotches of apologies needed
I wonder how you feel getting your hands tangled in her long blonde hair as opposed to my raven black hair and if there was a difference between you telling her she was yours when you were drunk, as opposed to you taking me to have dinner with your family when you were sober. and I wonder if I sit outside your bedroom window and burn through enough cigarettes while you’re in there with her, it’ll burn your memory out of my mind. Maybe the cigarettes would **** me before you could.
another poem about you.
kristen Nov 2018
his hair,
his hair is soft like silk,
it falls perfectly without him trying.

his smile,
his smile can light up a thousand stars,
it's as white as a new white chevy silverado truck.

his eyes,
his eyes are as blue as the ocean,
they're like the remuted triangle,
you can just get lost in them.

the boy with blonde hair is perfect.
i wrote this poem about an old crush that i had when i was in the 7th grade
Jules DelPercio Jan 2019
I went to your house
you wouldn't even look at me
I wanted to feel something
from you
I asked you if I could cut your hair
your long orange strangely hair
the hair that attracted me to you of course
the hair that made me believe you were different
and I know this sounds silly
but I thought you were different
because how could a boy
a ginger boy
strawberry blonde as you called it
have such empowerment
bravery
to grow his hair
despite what everyone said him
they told him to cut it
he didn't
and that's how I fell in love with you
one of the reasons of course
I wanted to cut your hair
and when you asked me why
I told you it's the least you can let me do
I wanted to see if you loved me
I wanted to see if you cared
you wouldn't show me care
you looked at me
you were so sure
you said I wanted to cut your hair so I no longer
saw you as beautiful
I laughed in your face
I told you that even if I chopped your hair
you will always still be beautiful
to me.
You said no.
You wouldn't let me cut your hair.
And that's how I knew
that you no longer loved me,
you no longer cared.
Annabelle Lee Apr 2014
Miss Annabelle Lee
Such a pretty girl;
Her tall, thin frame
Her long, blonde curls

Miss Annabelle Lee
As light as a feather;
She drifts in the wind
Through the tough, stormy weather

Miss Annabelle Lee
She hates what she sees;
She's melting away
Blowing off with the breeze

Miss Annabelle Lee
Now so frail and so weak;
She needs to be thinner
But her body's calling defeat

Miss Annabelle Lee
Rest in peace, my dear friend;
You got your last wish
Now you're gone with the wind
I myself and people close to me have suffered with eating disorders, so they can be personal and touchy subjects to me. This was written about anorexia and some of the things the mindset can bring.
guy scutellaro Nov 2016
he sits on the bar stool beside her
                            too skinny
                            his flat wrinkled forehead
                            lifts brown bushy eyebrows
                            but he does not speak to her

                            she is blonde of course
                            perhaps 23
                            also skinny
                            a flat chested go go dancer
                            from new york city
                            el passo
                            bakersfield
                   ­         miamichicagomontreal
                            denver…­

                            she is with someone else

                             he thought she was his
                             but now

                             as a friend
                             she would like to buy him a shot

                             tired eyes narrow                            
                             he  stares at her as if he
                             has never lost a job
                                                                      ­                                     
                             as if no woman
                             brunette red head or blonde that he has loved
                             whose name he has tattooed onto his arm
                             has ever left him
                             as if the mail man, the priest, and his mom
                             are spitting into his stupid face
                             as if god has kicked him in the nuts
                             as if his dog has bit his hand as if
                    
                             this could never have happened to him
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
They called her an attention ***** for the last time
As she put the gun to her stomach and pulled the trigger.

The fat girl
The bipolar girl
The depressed girl
The nymphomaniac
The airhead blonde
The discarded cheerleader
The broken hearted

The girl who cuts
The girl who cries
The girl who has a eating disorder
The girl who can't help herself
The girl who is always alone
The girl who gets yelled at
The girl who always gets *****

She just wanted love
But this is all she has

She has a cheating boyfriend
She has a horrible father
She has an abusive mother
She has a shattered heart
She has a numb mind
She has a lost hope
She has a sharp knife
She has a loaded gun

I'm sure they just wanted attention. I'm sure they were perfectly fine.
I'm sure they didn't need the helping hand. I'm sure they're just overreacting.

I'm sure she's dead. I'm sure you don't really care.
//On friendship and compassion//
My tribute to all the "attention ******" out there that people hate.
Josh Apr 2019
You were born near the warm ocean,
grew up around there,
With your clear acrylic smile
and sun-kissed blonde hair

I, the winter cold
More north than I can remember,
We met that day you visited,
a brisk chill, that December

We drank and danced,
while the years passed over
Argued and grew apart,
our greatest fears, now sober

My memories of you, once treasured
Now, faded
as sun deprived lands complain,
Forever, jaded
D Awanis Apr 2017
We were born in different shapes, colors, and size
Not a single embryo was able to decide their DNA or blood type
But that shouldn't make us less humans than the others
It's the diversity that makes us exquisite and beautiful

Break down the stereotype that beauty is fair skin,
that beauty is a skinny and blonde-haired lady
that beauty is wearing clothes with branded labels
that beauty is applying tons of foundation and mascara

Who are we to determine the standard of beauty, anyway?
While each of us is God's creativity,
authentically made by His hands

Who are we to judge God's taste in art, anyway?
While each of us is uniquely magnificent,
as His creations are never less than a masterpiece

Keep in mind that the real beauty lies within ourselves,
beneath our skin, between our thoughts, and inside our soul
Embrace your inner beauty
Lazhar Bouazzi Jun 2017
A crimson boat waives
the flow of the waves
as a blonde figure craves
an infernal sun.

Next to the maiden
and the dandy-fella,
blossoms a vermillion
umbrella
whose role was to play
a timid cellar
for two red apples
and one apricot
the blonde damsel
could have brought
to quench her burning  
want
of the lustful monster.

Closing her ice-blue eyes,
the fair woman,
her sinful inspiration
did summon
to come carve
on her body so sullen
the orange vision
of the new Benzart bridge.

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage, TUNISA


*"Benzart" is the Tunisian name for “Biserta” or “Bizerte”- a beach town on the northern coast of Tunisia.
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