#Hair

683 posts
  • spontaneous_flow_of_emotion 2w

    Sigh against the curve of my neck
    Make memories in the knots of my hair
    Rent my bones
    Make yourself at home.
    ©spontaneous_flow_of_emotion

  • c73poetry 12w

    Korptober Day 27: Hair

    I hear you
    You're near now
    I can hear your shallow breaths
    You're so close I can smell your musk
    I hold my breath
    And I'm convinced my lungs will burst
    If I reached out I could touch you
    The hair on my neck standing on end
    I'm terrified
    And aroused
    All at the same time
    ©c73poetry

  • madinah_writes 14w

    Today,
    I read poems people wrote about their grandmother.
    Even though I didn't see mine or witness her love,
    I know what her touch felt like.
    What I heard of her was how much she loved and cared for me.
    My grandmother thought me how to sleep with my eyes open.
    Wide open to look inward and feel the weight of my heart.
    In her eyes stood magical galaxies.
    In her heart sat a revolution of beauty and talent.
    Sitting under the baobab tree that served as kitchen,
    Grandma would wake before the first cock's crow to burn dry woods.
    Everyone is still asleep.
    The day just begin to yawn in dusky Dawn.
    Grounding pepper on a flat stone to make our local dish.
    My grandma first taught me how to endure the peppery fish.
    Smoke filling the morning till it touches the sky,
    Grandma would lay me on her sweaty back which served as my first bed.
    I clocked one and she passed.
    Well, that was destiny. All left with me is imaginary memories and a wishful smile.
    For I never knew my grandmother but I felt her love.

    #grandmother #rememberance #memory #old #black #hair #blackamerican #african #miraquill #bittertruth #reality #beauty #makeup #childhood #past #writersbay #writeup #writerscommunity #shy #blackbeauty

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    Grandma's Love
    ©madinah_writes

  • madinah_writes 14w

    Her hands are twisted in voices unheard.
    Her lips are adored with words, unspoken.
    Her curves are perfectly shaped, unnoticed.
    She is shy for being noticed.


    Her hair is painted to the back.
    On her neck is a bead gifted to her by her grandmother on her first breathe.
    On her waste are crystal adornment on her first broken teeth.
    She is shy for being noticed.

    Plumpy and natural.
    She chuckles to her lifestyle so feral.
    She's music knitted in raw gold.
    She's shy to be noticed but secretly bold.

    ©Madinah_Writes

    #black #hair #blackamerican #african #miraquill #bittertruth #reality #beauty #makeup #childhood #past #writersbay #writeup #writerscommunity #shy #blackbeauty

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    She Is Shy For Being Noticed.

    ©madinah_writes

  • madinah_writes 14w

    Her hands are twisted in voices, unheard.
    Her lips are adored with words, unspoken.
    Her curves are perfectly shaped, unnoticed.
    She is shy for being noticed.


    Her hair is plaited in weaves and splashes, to the back.
    On her neck is an ancestry bead gifted to her by her grandmother, on her first breathe.
    On her waste are crystal adornment of love, on her first broken teeth.
    She is shy for being noticed.

    Plumpy and natural.
    She chuckles to her lifestyle, so feral.
    She's music knitted in raw gold.
    She's shy to be noticed but secretly bold.

    ©Madinah_Writes

    #black #hair #blackamerican #african #miraquill #bittertruth #reality #beauty #makeup #childhood #past #writersbay #writeup #writerscommunity #shy #blackbeauty

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    She Is Shy For Being Noticed.

    ©madinah_writes

  • madinah_writes 14w

    I remember entering a beauty contest with the kinky coiled hair seated on my head. There, I find out that black girl like me were different from me. Their hair were silky straight, long and shiny. Despite the burn of chemicals on my scalp and the smell of sulphur that filled the room. I was impressed at the prospect of having straight hair. It was beautiful and celebrate and I with my kinky hair felt inadequate. Over the years, I spent thousands of dollars to have a long, straight hair. And a thousand more on wigs and extensions to make my hair look fuller. I didn't realize that then, I was gripped by insecurity.

    As a young of 12, it stayed with me into adulthood. To be an African born into America. It is to be born into a world that makes you inferior even before you take your first step. Or learn your first language. To be under constant mental and spiritual attach that you have to fight alone. It's not only our bodies that were taken during slavery, but our identities as well. We were told that our hair doesn't grow.That knowledge and wisdom was something we never know. And that everything they gave us, was an opportunity. That our nose were too wide. And our lips were too big. That our skin is too dark and our features and structure, were too thick.

    At 15, I use to look in the mirror for hours. Thinking, what if I was more beautiful? That if my hair could reach my back. What if my eyes were blue or green. Like the dolls and Barbie's I watched on the television screen. If my nose and lips were a little smaller. What if I was prettier? Television shows made me feel I wasn't alive. Magazines made me feel there was something wrong with me. As if I'm incomplete and I need to be changed because I don't fit into the society, far and near. By the society dominated by white. Yet, I'm privileged. Yet, I'm refused over and over again.

    ©Madinah_Writes

    #black #hair #blackamerican #african #miraquill #bittertruth #reality #beauty #makeup #childhood #past #writersbay #writeup #writerscommunity

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    Remembering My Early Years

    ©madinah_writes

  • madinah_writes 15w



    Her hair was the thickness flow of the night.
    And the night brought her secrets of the day.
    ©madinah_writes

  • veronica_06 16w

    An ode to locks

    She's curly curly and whirly,
    Tangled and twirly,
    Dark and bunchy,
    Shedding and frizzy,
    Irking but crunchy,
    Withering but inchy,
    Greyscale but pinchy,
    Friendly with fringy,
    Her style is swirling easy,
    Rapport with clutchy,
    Lovely and bouncy,
    Savvy and malleable
    Ravishing beyond slangy
    Loads of love my Dutchy!
    ©veronica_06

  • in_fragments 16w

    Here's a small part of my hair story, inspired by @murryben telling hers ����
    #pod #poem #childhood #hair @miraquill @writersnetwork @writersbay

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    Atrocious Beauty

    A growing little girl,
    and an ailing immune system-
    while they were sucking the blood
    from my untrained veins, every week
    a new medical tube to fill
    with strange illness,
    my soft blonde hair
    came falling out in strands.
    Health ramifications
    keeping tresses brittle and thin-
    a growing little girl forming bald patches,
    wishing for nothing more
    than the long, flowing locks
    her peers wore. She thought
    the odd spots of fallen pieces
    made her head seem ugly
    and impossible to care for,
    unable to hold a beautiful curl
    or caress without losing fringes
    between unsure fingers.


    On one of my birthdays
    a brush got stuck in my hair,
    and I was horrified
    when they had to cut it in a heap
    to pull the round monster out.
    One minute, a happy child celebrating,
    the next, a small girl crying
    as if her mother
    had cut away parts of her brain.
    An unexpected accident
    became a profound mental scar
    atop a head so young, behind a mind
    becoming so taciturn already.


    I was never in charge of my own hair,
    the most important part of a woman
    in a shallow, sickly society.
    I hid away the memories
    like I did with all other memories;
    bottled them up when no one could help,
    threw them behind mental barriers
    as a child so I could still survive,
    my days I spent hiding
    from such gruesome dispositions,
    afraid of hearing the clipping of blades
    in my daydreams.


    Now that I am older,
    and my hair is finally healthy,
    for the first time I am safely reflecting
    on the hair trauma
    that has affected my behavior
    and state of mind subconsciously
    for the past three agonizing decades.
    I was stuck in a constant
    loop of loss and grief,
    yearning over something
    I was losing more control of every day.
    Even now, in my worst,
    most self destructive moments,
    I fantasize about ripping it all out,
    cutting it all off
    with the sharpest scissors
    I can imagine, shaving it away
    from crown to brow, and nape to top-
    because I am bound to lose it
    all again anyway.


    Beauty is fleeting, and beauty is atrocious.


    Beauty is a delusion,
    and the world has made me sick of it-
    sick for it- my entire life.


    I take care of what I have now,
    while I have it, needing nothing more
    and trying to find ways
    to put this old suffering to rest.
    I brush my hair
    and am grateful every day
    I still feel it on my head-
    grateful and terrified;
    waiting for that inevitable day,
    that innocuous process, the moment
    where it all begins
    to fall out for good.
    ©in_fragments

  • akufuna35 17w

    SECRETS

    There's a secret shared among girls with afro hair.
    The bigger the afro, the bigger the personality.
    ©akufuna35

  • ericajean 19w

    #cosmic #strong #activist #hair #sun

    I am a love locked monster
    In a landlocked voice of consciousness
    An outcast-
    Swimming upstream in a battered mind
    Full of tenderloin tenderheaded-ness

    Bloated with dead water,
    Smoothed in the fragrance of
    Blue fire
    My hands are held high
    I praise the invisible

    Raise the temporary socio-eco
    Olympus

    With iron-wings and heated hate
    I look for light that cuts the ignorance

    Knives of steel
    Blank words my Achilles heel

    Beautiful notes are crunched
    In vocal c(h)ords from
    Screams in defiance
    While sexy, while dexy while Pro
    Black Gold

    This could be why my hair is coily,
    This could be why my hair is kinky
    This could be why my comb’s teeth break
    This could be why my strands extol
    Ra

    Read More

    My kinky strands are soft wires kissing Ra's warm face

    ©ericajean

  • kadyan_naveen 23w

    My Love

    i just want to hold your hand
    and count stars together..

    just want to enjoy moments together
    no matter where....

    pulling your hair
    even when it annoys you

    start with morning coffee
    up to the late night snack
    always with you..

    just be with me bcz you're the only one ,
    whom i love from moon and back ❤️❤️❤️
    ©kadyan_naveen

  • anuradhasharma 24w

    इतनी घनेरी गहरी , काली अंधेरी है ।
    तेरी जुल्फ में की , मैं इनके बिछते ही ।
    समाज की हदे भी , भूल जाता हूं ।



    ©anuradhasharma

  • heartstrings_pal_ryu 31w

    Hair

    A sign of femininity for the majority
    Long hair a sign of growing seniority
    So much self-esteem attached to them
    Will I really change without them?

    I thought it'll be a new feeling when they grow
    The imagination and expectations of a child are never low
    I could finally let them grow out in my late teens
    Changing them to take control when life went out of control in my twenties

    I like them down my shoulder and my waist
    Cold breeze of summer in them with a sweet taste
    I wonder why they're called wild when set free
    I feel my best when I just let them be

    And on days when I want to dress up
    Someday I'll put them in a bun right up
    Or maybe I'll get to embrace a pixie cut
    Chill on the beach while eating a coconut

    I wish I could donate them sometime
    I hope I get to do it this time
    A crown which is to be shared
    A little sunshine when someone is unprepared

    ©heartstrings_pal_ryu

  • untold_diaries_story 31w

    उफ़.....
    ये बरसात में भीगी जुल्फें तुम्हारी
    कहीं जान ना ले-ले हमारी
    ©untold_diaries_story

  • blossomwrites 33w

    When the drapes of my heart opened
    She barged into it like sunlight entering an empty room
    My face lits up like Christmas lights every time I cross path with her
    When I gaze into her eyes I see my reflection clear as ocean
    As she caresses her gorgeous hair with gentle hands it gushes cool breeze onto my face

  • anjalijaman_ 33w

    I hate it, when my hair falls onto my face while I'm trying to sleep.
    ©anjalijaman_

  • midewrites 39w

    #hair# natural hair#tolaproaim

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    My Strands:

    For years I abused and tortured it, I was addicted to the creamy drug
    My hair is now sober and there's no turning
    back
    You see I like the way my stands twist, turn
    and curl up tight,so fluff
    Against society's demand that they lay flat without help,
    My hair is just like me, Beautiful, resilient and full of pride!
    ©midewrites

  • ananotherindiangirl 41w

    চুল নাকি নারীদের সৌন্দর্য্যের প্রতীক ,
    নাহ্ কথাটা অতটাও সত্যি নয় !!
    সমাজ এই নিয়ম তৈরী করেছে ,
    আর নারীরা তা নিঃশব্দে মেনে এসেছে এযাবত ।
    কিন্তু এখন তো তাদের নিয়ম ভাঙার সময় ,
    সময় নতুন নিয়ম তৈরী করার !!
    সৌন্দর্য বাহ্যিকতা মানে না , মানে না রূপচর্চার প্রয়োজনীয়তা ,
    চুল, চোখ , ঠোঁট বা নাকের নিপুণতা
    কালের নিয়মে হারিয়ে যায় কিন্তু হারায় না
    অভ্যন্তরীন সৌন্দর্য , মনের গভীরতা !!
    চিন্তাধারা বদলাচ্ছে , নারীদের পাশে এসে দাঁড়িয়েছে
    পুরুষেরা , পুরুষতান্ত্রিক সমাজের বিরুদ্ধে
    কঠোর হয়েছে এ যুগের মানুষরা !!
    মানুষ, কারণ পুরুষত্বের থেকে তারা মনুষ্যত্বকে
    সম্মান দিয়েছে , আর ভেঙে ফেলছে মেকি
    পুরুষত্বের ফাঁপা মেরুদন্ড ।
    তাদের কুর্নিশ ।।

    ©ananotherindiangirl

  • anuradhasharma 45w

    तुम्हारी रेशमी ज़ुल्फ में , इस क़दर गुम है ।
    रिहा , तो चाहते है ।
    पर , उलझते ही जाते ।
    काली-घनेरे जी भाए ।
    इनमें , अज़ब-सी खुशबू रवां ।
    कर जाए , मन-ए-शांति जवां ।
    जब तुम , इन्हें बेतरतीब बांधती ।
    हाय ! मेरी जां भी कहीं उन गिरफ्त में बंध जाती ।
    तुम्हारी रेशमी ज़ुल्फ में , इस क़दर गुम है ।
    रिहा , तो चाहते है ।







    ©anuradhasharma