Once there was a mass on red,
That sat atop of Harrow's head.
Idiots jeered and gave him stick,
They were befuddled by their differences; his head wasn't bald and he wasn't thick.
It took him several months to grow.
Through this his dedication did show.
We saw him as an upstanding and leading individual.
Rising far above the ridicule.
Then one day rumor grew and with it did our dread,
It was confirmed at the Barfly; the afro was gone and our respect for him was dead.
Author notes
Option 10
A contest entry
- Whatever You Want It To Be by dead-love-for-fun.
700 points, ended November 26, 2007, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Love, Hate, Everything Else You Can Create (Prewrites Allowed) by xxRainbowDawnxx.
450 points, ended January 30, 2008, 36 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
ohh I have no problems with afros really....
oh wait, I do
-
Nice Write!!!
-
awwwww
A ginger afro sounds amazing
I never saw it at its height
Wish i did
Very good
Funny as fuck
Love you
xxx
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