"hairband" poems
A country lane, which eats animals, earrings and experiences,
winds in spools around the oat-house and follows the broken wall.
My sister’s bottle green jeep made waves along the hedges,
she shook out her hairband and the conversations of the evening.
An owl asks on all sides, and would seem to answer himself as
the field barracuda, the vast wide eye for the minnow-mouse.
She put a pearl in the bushes, dangling spit-like,
an orb, a moon-berry, full and dead forever.
She drove faster, as the english night slowed down,
down by the where the willow covers the road sign.
She killed a badger,
as if they had both lost something here.
Sun-cooked,
crisp at the curling edges
he’s a dark patch, like a fixed pothole.
his bones tested her michelins in the morning
again, glassy eyed, stillened,
retroflective and blind to the shimmering shadow of flies
rising up through his skin like a spirit.
But both her ears are full.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
It twas a chunk.
A bootleg papertowel, ziplock baggie, hairband combo
Allowed me to continue
Cutting and subsequently cooking
Perseverance? Check.
Being a bad ***** Check.
Maintaining a sense of humor while I'm gushing blood? Check.
Jamming 90s alternative rock with my nineteen year old brother? Check.
No ******* this time though..
He wouldn't allow such.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
Jenifer Garner looked every inch the mom in control as she and estranged husband Ben Affleck picked up their daughters from karate class.
The actress, 43, strode out ahead clutching her cell phone in one hand and car keys in her other as the Argo star, also 43, followed behind with Violet, nine, and Seraphina, six, and carrying a canvas shopping bag.
Garner also had her wedding ring back on, but on the middle finger of her left hand and not the ring finger.
Affleck, though, seems to have ditched his wedding ring altogether.
He hasn't been seen with it on for a couple of weeks at least, although when they first split the pair had made it known they'd still keep the gold bands on around their kids.
Rumors had started to swirl of a possible reconciliation between the two after they were seen leaving couples counseling together in Sana Monica on September 4.
But sources close to them moved quickly to quash any suggestion they might get back together, saying they were simply seeking professional help to guide them through the changes that divorce brings.
Affleck was a doting dad on Friday as he smilingly shepherded his daughters to the car as they snacked on apples.
The Good Will Hunting actor was dressed casually in an olive green t-shirt, black jeans and sneakers.
Seraphina wore a pretty light blue pinafore dress with a matching hairband and her favorite purple and pink Nike trainers.
Violet wore an all black workout ensemble with turquoise athletic shoes.
Not with them was the girls' younger brother Samuel, who's three.
The estranged couple are back in LA after Garner spent most of the summer filming Miracles From Heaven in Atlanta, Georgia, and Affleck was reprising his role as Batman for Suicide Squad in Toronoto, Canada.
With those projects in the can, it means they can focus more time on caring for their children as their divorce moves forward.
Affleck is also prepping his next project Live By Night, a Prohibition-era drama that he's written and plans to star in and direct.
The film based on the novel by Denis Lehane and set in Boston is scheduled to start filming in November.
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
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Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
A box entitled Lost and Found.
Inside-
a ball,
a silver slinky.
A pink backpack with unicorns,
a ratty teddy bear with love in it's eyes.
A math notebook that holds all the secrets of a girl named Alicia.
A cootie-catcher that has been ripped in several places.
A metal tin lunchbox with Spiderman on it and the name William on a piece of masking tape on the handle.
A barbie doll, looking as thought it has been given an amateur haircut, and wearing a yellow dress and one pink high heel, but still smiling.
A green hairband with several purple flowers on it.
A diary with a lock, and butterflies on the cover.
A stuffed puppy dog, with a red nose.
A key, probably to a lost diary.
One black shoe,
in the Lost and Found.
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 12:08 PM UTC
I do care about your loose hairband
that allow your tresses and mantle
to flow in the soft breeze,
Small ***** of sweat
trickle-down from forehead,
taking the route of the cheek,
And your both hands occupied in books
Effort vainly to subdue them-
I sit and watch this battle from our college corridor,
Dreaming and fantasizing to be your lover,
And leading the army of affection
Win this contest of tresses and mantle
for you.
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 4:48 PM UTC
he loved her
the beautiful black-haired girl
with a braid and a hairband of daisies
and like the sky looking eyes
she saw him
the shy poem-writing guy
with the scars on his wrist
and all his flaws on a list
- a.b.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
i am wearing my favorite christmas hairband
a snowman surrounded by red and blue bows sprinkled with snow
my father wears his favorite cubs hat,
i rest my head on my father’s Slanted shoulder
my eyes rest on my hand sitting lightly on his wrist
my father’s gaze is directed towards his gift.
maybe that’s it.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
We were the stars
We were the that’s not close enough
We were the dizzy spell when we’d stand up too quick
and our favorite colors were black
and really black
We were the spectrum
We were the prom queen and that guy
We were the that guy is in over his head
We were the balance
We were the tightrope walkers
We were the side walk chalkers
chalking up rain checks and forget me nots
We were the discovery channel
We were the sand between our toes
We were the nose goes
playing finger paints on our hearts
We were the hearts
We were the drums
We were the rat ta tat tat
tickling tattoos on our souls
We were the jazz
We were the good fight
We were the fighter and the lover
but I was neither
We were the my girlfriend will kick your ***
We were the first kiss
We were the forefront
and the afterthought
We were the only thought
We were the world
We were the Garden of the Gods
in Colorado
We were the devil
and we didn’t give a ****
We were the levee overflowing
We were the swim
We were the run through the rain with shoes on our hands
We were the last dance handstands
We were the final countdown
We were the 80’s hairband
We were the rock concert
We were the star spangled banner
We were the left hand of Jimi Hendrix
and his guitar strings
We were the good taste in music
We were the bad taste in our mouths
We were the learn to love and be loved in return
We were the optimist in a depression
We were the depression in art
We were the beauty
We were the science teacher that found proof of God
We were the proof of God
We were the class
We were the past
We were the past
We were the past
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
If I am an
attention seeker,
let me carve the
words into myself like a
label,
a definition of a
four-lettered name.
I am more than
nights of spinning and
contemplating,
razor in my hand,
moving like a silver
dancer through my fingers,
but there it is,
tracing my veins as a
pencil traces paper,
drawing patterns up and
down my arms in permanent
red paint.
Let me tie a
hairband around my
wrist and snap it until my
veins fashion welts,
red over blue on
placid skin,
vines through to my
fingertips, thorns under my
nails with ******
red blooms like
cigarette burns.
Let me cry underneath street
lamps, audible to the
world, open and
vulnerable like the
new cuts on
my skin.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
Lights were on,
you were home.
His car,
watermelon green
boot static in front,
lit up as treasure
beneath a streetlamp globe.
Snow pinched
windshield,
fingers numb,
gloves with pentagonal
holes 'round the wrist.
Got out,
cold hit me
like the train squealing up
at Canal Street
near 2AM.
That's where
you found out
who I was.
I thought you were
another twenty-something
from Greenwich Village,
discount hairband
and a wrong shade
of eye-shadow.
Eighteen months later,
I can't even remember
what colour your eyes are.
Knocked the door,
a reckless mistake.
Heard a murmur,
rowdy thump down stairs,
a ****** of glasses
(wine? Surprise.)
It had been a while.
You were expecting me.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
Be the amber stone I wear around my neck
So your presence weighs upon me
Be the noose that's not too loose
Like a hairband too tight to pull through
Be the virus in my body
That no medication can treat
Be the white noise in my head
So I can't properly think
Be the darkness of my shadow
So I feel you loom as the hours pass
Be that sensation before I sneeze
So I feel you linger when my nose hits the breeze
Be the God to my religion
So I can feel you all around me
Be the devil in the details
To feel your curses smite me
Do not, however, be my downfall
Even though you already are
By being the haunting of my waking thoughts
You've left me considering your skin with my scars
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 1:25 AM UTC
it's the barbed-wire pattern on your wrist formed by a new hairband which infested my thoughts today
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
My mind is playing tricks on me, my dear
I almost feel as though I'm home again
Passion Pit playing in the background and
Of Monsters and Men playing in my head
Cards on the floor slipping through the only cold floorboards
We're all shirtless again
It's one hundred thousand and ten degrees outside
the walls haven't quite crumbled down
over the cabins that we love
the clouds can't penetrate these green hills, much less roll over them
only we can roll on these hills in our hot sleeping bags
and almost fall into the green lily pond and the sky's green
but I'm not scared anymore
Because I've jumped off the high dive and
introduced myself to older girls
What else could there be to love other than the smell of cookouts
bad singing, and BO?
I painted my face for the first time to give a blanket
to a girl who'd never have a better night.
I got my eyebrows plucked in the same room and night
She plucked my guilt out like the hairband she was trying to undo,
her fingers said, "you're forgiven,"
my eyes said, "thank you,"
as I leapt through the fields to hug my friend because she was crying
even though I was naked
I braided so much hair during that time-
Held more hands than you'd wanna
Jesse McCartney didn't even know what a beautiful soul was-
My summer was set to the playlist of
the only twenty year old in the room who is trying to guide our ships
as we sail through the changing ocean tides
and summer is the easiest to handle of the seasons of my life-
There, I built my own wheel, learned how to take it myself,
and then I gave it to Jesus
and he's piloting fine.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
What's Pragmatic on your earth?
You ask this a lot...
You see a bottle of hand rub to do away an alien being, you mask up meeting with your favorite people...
The books you shared, the glance you stared, at the one the most important for you, is hidden from you, and you forbidden from that person.
The time flied even though, what's pragmatic you ask alone, the speakers on your deck shouting a song you loved, the shoes you wore are not withered, an extra pair of socks you bought is lost in your cupboard and still you think your hot glass of coffee will part your way with that pale natured filled case of your medals...
The hairband you use to tie your hair, now you find it a weird object around you, it's not pragmatic to tie your strands to flaunt the world, when you know the world is is hiding.
Wrecked up pieces of shattered glass is doing a play with the transitional winds and it came to your room and you thought it was pragmatic to think that it was the silver lining...
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 3:01 PM UTC
I had plans tonight.
To go to the movies
And the gym after that.
But then I couldn’t find a hairband
And I’m thrown into a tizzy.
I ransack tables and I flip over chairs;
I look and I look
In
Every
Nook.
But nothing.
Now it’s time to go to the movies
And everyone’s waiting on me,
But I’m still stuck on the hairband
And can’t find the strength to leave.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
I remember the rain, heavy on our umbrellas,
the scent of wet earth as we walked,
silent, yet knowing.
You handed me the slippers first,
a small kindness that opened a password door in my heart.
In our classroom filled with murmurs and pages turning,
you sat in the last row,
your glasses catching the fluorescent light and time,
your hairband keeping time with your movements
You were a tomboy, you said,
but to me, you were softer than the world allowed.
A quiet building, an empty hallway,
fries shared between words that meant everything and nothing
The pull of something unspoken
led us up the stairs, past the classrooms where fans hummed
to a moment that rewrote us.
Afterward, we laughed in daylight,
separate yet tangled,
our conversations shifting between equations and longing.
You had friends; I had you in the quiet.
And then time carried us away,
first to different cities, then to different lives.
You reappeared in pixels and midnight messages,
a voice from the past steadying me in my new world
But distance is a slow tide,
pulling even the strongest memories apart
I spoke too much, stupidly shared too much, or maybe just enough,
and you drifted again,
this time with no promise of return.
Now, I hold you in flashes
the rain, the fries, the hush of a stairwell,
the echo of a name I can no longer address.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 4:12 AM UTC