Hair

Hair
By Christopher Commodore©2011

Odd hair adorned with psychedelic stones,
White plastic beads and brownish human bones;
Old-fashioned braids straight out of Africa,
Adorning heads in North America.

Here, there, and sometimes everywhere,
Appear all styles of braided human hair;
Like that worn daily by a Natty Dread,
When he’s awake or even when in bed.

Some hair will kindle empty dreadful fear,
Some generate a most alarming stare.
Some hair like fluffy Camel’s hair,
Will warm someone from freezing winter air.

“Here, here,” they say when British folks agree.
“Hair, hair,” they tease when Natty Dread they see.
Appearance, looks, demeanor wild out there.
Some hearts give way all based on fear of hair.

But truly, fear not locks or braided hair,
But vicious actions floating in the air,
Beware of those who sport a polished head,
Perhaps the ones from whom one flees instead.