Captured Beauty: Hair

Captured Beauty: Hair

Trembling, cascades as fierce as
falling water as swiftly surging as
a roiling stream.

As straight, as woven together as
though by design brought forth by
agronomy;
as passionate a task lends its origin
to a higher harmony.

Still and elegant, regal as royalty.
Firm and demure with finely textured
curls, do in fact complete the dream.

Straight firm, relaxed or stiff, folded
as overlapping ingredients to build
an angel food cake. Softly softly.

Tiny spikes would make one hesitate
before planting face within those
deliciously treacherous spines,
break suddenly; mind shouts mistake.

Except these spines – spikes that look
harsh and frightening to the
touch are surprisingly tender and delicate
to the touch while emitting  a rich aroma
of shampoo, conditioner, or setting gels.

Perhaps worn haphazardly, without
attention being paid to the fashion
deities whom abound in magazines or
haunt the television airwaves – twenty
four seven by 365 as the market will bear.

Wonderfully askew, there is beauty
there too, to be tamed or lovingly
harnessed, losing self with in folds,
frill, waves or masses of tresses.

Falling beauty cascading upon chest
to envelope face with beauty and grace;
as finely textured hair like soft tiny
springs enjoyment do bring  like tiny
virgin forest each hair curl to its place.

Silky masses of strand upon strand
lie by its neighbor as molecule strings
one beside others; form chains of
unbroken desire.

Touching the cascades do suddenly
disappear and like a skydiver plunging
through clouds resistance seems,
but is not there.

Matted not, but upon tightly coiled
springs each when touched yields,
then like life tightens to resist.

Curls so small and delicate too, did
nature not create such wondrous
intricate details of beauty may my
hand enlist.

Touch tenderly, caress gently,
loosing my senses to absorb all
textures, all descriptors of hair.

Yielding such beauty, matters not if
hair is long or short – strands  or curls
a woman’s hair does not define her.

Bald is beautiful and in cases
necessary as a temporary
receipt paid for fighting to survive.

A standing ovation for all who have
entered that fight and fought to win;
whose baldness marks a new
beginning from velvet down, soft
buzz to crown fully or majestically
rise – hair can orchestrate or send
a message to all.

Hair is a part of a persons gift to
what is seen or desire to project to
viewers.

There she is again, pulls up to the
stop sign, braking causes her hair
to fall across her face – just like a
moment frozen in time; she is
beautiful and just as quickly tosses
it out of the way to safely proceed on
her way.

It matters not if by natures gift or
a persons skill is one blessed with
a head of bouncing beauty;
matters not if hair is there at all – it
is the persona of a woman that
makes her a cutie.

Poetry Thursday.

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