Hair Style|Poems (!) for those bad hair days!

Did you ever consider expressing your mood of a bad hair day with a poem? Well, some people did!

Bad Hair Day Poems

Bad-Hair Day
Student:

I looked in the mirror
with shock and with dread
to discover two antlers
had sprung from my head.
The kids in my class
were complaining all day,

Classmates:

�We can�t see the board
with your horns in the way!�
Student:

The teacher was cross.
He asked,
Teacher:

�What�s your excuse?�
Student:

I said, �Well, I think have
used too much mousse.�

The End
� 2004 by Linda Knaus. Adapted from the poem in If Kids Ruled the School, published by Meadowbrook Press

I woke up this morning and my hair was such a mess

Its grey roots are showing through - oh dear I must confess

This lovely shade of titian red it really isn�t mine

But when I get the colour on I just look so divine

I open up the bottles and mix the liquids so

The mixture smells disgusting; but then again I know

Once I�ve hit the bottle and the mixture is all gone

Grey hairs will be covered so I have to carry on

My hair is dyed I cannot lie, but it makes me feel so great

To eradicate the grey ones it�s really down to fate

My mum went grey at an early age and dad he has hardly any left

So if I couldn�t dye my hair at all I would be quite bereft

Jan Allison

BAD HAIR DAY

There was a young lady named Fairday

On Monday she had a bad hair day

She twisted and clipped

But it flopped and it flipped

That poor young lady named Fairday.

She let her hair down

But she looked like a clown

Then she wailed and she cried

Said "Be damned, I've no pride"

So went to work wearing a crown.

c ELR 2013

Surreal Bad Hair Day

I stare in the mirror with fear on my face

So late for work my heart starts to race

I move the old brush, striving for perfection

As I gaze in horror at this shambling reflection

Each move of the hand makes it look worse

I am in need of a stylist or possibly a hearse

I squirt on some gel and it hits the mark

I turn on the dryer and out shoots a spark

I run all around with my hair quite ablaze

While it looks very hot it will be no new craze

I search for some water and instead I find cheese

I find this quite odd as I pant and I wheeze

I glance at my hair and it appears to be fur

But it did not before, of this I am sure

I begin to wake up, things start to come clear

I can see plainly how I had nothing to fear

Now it makes sense, things are not as they seem

Isn't it strange of what an animal can dream?

Copyright � 2015 Patrick Bird