Here we have a poetry page inspire by contributers. If you have any red hair, or freckles poems , or song that you would like to share, please emial them to


My Redheaded Mother

Hazel eyes, flaming coils
Steaming cauldron, temper boils
Freckles visit heated sun
 Ballet competition won

I loved my mother. . .

Once a girl with bobby socks
Teased by boys her red-hot locks
 When temper ruled, her Irish flared
To cross her path? Only father dared

I feared my mother. . .

From her I see my freckled nose
 For her, I hold one ballet pose
From her, my moods do flare and wane
For her, I wear my scarlet mane

So like my mother. . . Miss you always

---e.a. Clausen


A poem of personal realization that being a red-head
isn't the curse that my mother taught me it was.
The wind blows, stirs, billowing flaming tresses.
A mystic magic this prize of locks possesses.
Green eyes with just a hint of mischief fill
Alluding to her strength, her forceful will.
She is so like moonlight, like full moon's light.
So pale and so perfect that it just seems right,
That freckles flecked in myriad across her skin,
As in the sky one looks at the stars within.
And beautiful without bounds, are they and she,
Without stars, where would the sky's beauty be?
Not just in the brilliant sunrise flame of her hair
But how she does everything with certain flair,
There is inside her, a flame that shows through,
In everything large and small she chooses to do.
Moods and temper flit like autumn winds blow,
Not even she, knows in which direction they'll go.
Love her, hate her, be her friend or just let her be,
Not perfect, but close enough, she a redhead, she’s me.
Copyright Heather Glenn 2007


The Redhead from Paradise (A poem about William Blake (1757-1827)

when something fractured Blake's mind and caused the darkness to enter, he'd gather up his Angels and his Devils and swoop down upon the cowards causing heartache and distress to his fellow souls.
His red hair would bristle with the fire in his veins but red was also the colour of his heart-that belonged to Kate.

Red was the colour of the Trooper's jacket that day he made Blake see red when he tresspassed into Blake's garden.
And red was the trooper's lying tongue in Court and red were the faces of the Prosecution when Justice was delivered in Chichester.

Red were the flames Tatham made
when he burned piles and piles of unseen Blake works.
The bonfire raged for several hours
like the manuscripts themselves were bleeding into the air through the thin trails of smoke and every page, a part of Blake, turning to dust in the flames.

And red were his eyes as he worked the clock round close work, till his back broke, with Kate by his side.
But no one wanted to buy the words from his soul, they were deaf and blind to all he wrote and saw But i hope the redhead from Paradise now sees just how well loved he is

Vanessa Fletcher. 2007


A Queen of Summer

What petal wakens stumbled heart ?
Can mist deceive heaving sea's shaped breeze ?
Ashore, Flowers try to find their knees
Supplicating beauty 's scent in blossom .
This fiery Queen crowns her throne of summer,
When Season's lost ,a mystry's plunder.
Pale they are in compare - thunder ,
Sun and moon so soon
Not there, or there !
Shaken ,
Unrequited flowers be ,
Cast themselves upon the sea.

Copyright ©2004 Dale Hinchey


'Havent you seen her'?! They all say
'The redheaded woman with the sexy sway'
'Yes Ive seen her' one man cries
'the ultimate enigma with large blue eyes'
'she made me catch my breath' one man speaks.
'Ive dreamt of women like her in my sleep'
Then in she walks, all eyes upon her.
They all want to speak to her, but no-one dares.
Her copper locks glisten in the light.
Her milky skin glows like the moon at night.
She owns the room but unaware
of the reaction she causes or the lengthly stares.
Men want her, women want to be her.
They all want the woman with the fiery red hair!
Victoria-a fellow redhead


Love Letter to My Someone
My temper is as fiery as my hair
You may try to tame it, if you dare.
You're across the room trying not to stare
At the temptress with her bright red hair.
You can't help but stealing a glance
Or two, wondering if you'd have a chance
To caress the copper locks or to taste
The milk-like skin; no time to waste...
Your heart will hurt, your body will ache,
You've been warned, your being is at stake.
But if you're loving, loyal, patient and strong,
This vibrant red head will be yours ere long.
-- Vicki Tucci


To the Redhead I’m Craving for
(as a reply to Vicki Tucci's poem above)

I love your fiery work of art
You almost made me cry
With deep emotion of my heart
I cannot but reply

The flame-like cover of your head
Revives my passionate side
How great, you’re proud of being red
So I’ll support your pride

It’s red hair’s magic I adore
While mine resembles wheat
I’ll sing and frolic, yell for more
To match your temper’s heat

My hair is silver, yours is gold
We’ll make a pretty pair
We’ll ramble through the woods of old
And breathe your vivid hair

Gereon the Shining Eagle


~ A Lost Winter ~
Copyright ©2006 John Eugene Kirkwood
As the winter winds grew sharp on my brow
for all my treason and seasoned excuse silvery blue eyes raked in the sorrow
My hair was like fire even in the night
when shades were hard to see and the moon cast none
there, I believe
...was never a tomorrow

The shadows of all that I have been
are displayed on the refuge of time
I have no heart for this matter I am shown

I walked with beauty in my every part
She held me to the stars
As the horror fades there is nothing more
...and I'm found on the chips of my bones

My golden mane reaches from the silvery blue tips
and a sorrow that drinks it's own blood is my demeanor
and she did so much as love me before the panic had grown

What is sold here is the courage of fear
and the absolution of pain I am shown
Mine is not but coarse stone hers is no longer my home



As I stare at the lonely flame of a candle within a darkened room,
I see you to be like the light of the moon.
  You sparkle like the suns reflection upon a mountain stream,
yet you seem as fresh as the air as in the season of spring.
  For so gentle as you are like a sleeping fawn,
but then I suddenly sighed and the flame was gone.
   Please note Doug, that I Kevin Nagy wrote this poem being inspired by the red haired girl with the green eyes listed in friends photos2, whom I do not know but yet carried away within a revery through her beauty.


My heart is filled with passion,
as I see a tint of heaven,
that drifts beyond the mountain,
my lucky number seven.
With each glance towards him,
My eyes begin to squint
as my soul begins to flicker
at this angel God has sent.
For so long I've walked past him,
hoping to turn his head,
and leave in imprint in his dreams
at night
when hes is lying asleep in bed.
Hoping my copper hair will steal,
some of the light away from the sun,
and help snatch the man I love,
hoping I won't be forgotten,
before anything is begun.
I hope one day when he passes,
and sees my copper fire
he will notice my hazel eyes glowing,
and then speaks to unlock my hearts desire.


Brown eyes so warm yet cold,
I can't seem to let them go.
A person so solom yet so strong,
I've had these feelings for you for so long.
Hands strong and rough to the touch,
I dont think I've ever loved someone this much.
Hair so soft in a sweet shade of red,
From our first encounted to you I've been led.
Your voice so hard yet so firm,
Eveytime you speak it makes me burn.
The butterflies so soft and warm,
You bring them to me with your charm.
All I want is your sweet embrace,
And to stand with you face to face.
I seem to know you so well,
But yet I can never really tell.

-J.D. Day


You're my freckled girl,
and I love you.
I'm not sure if you,
feel the same way I do.
I get butterflies,
in your presence.
Each freckle you posses,
captures your beauty essence.
It's bold of me to,
write this song to you.
Because we're just friends,
but girl my love is true.
Hey babe what you see,
is just plain old me.
But just for you girl,
I'll be anybody you want me to be.
Should I wait it out, let you make the move
I'm feeling all the doubt, what else can i proove.
Your voice is so sweet, i wish I could talk to you,
But for now i go, into exile to be alone
And should I read between the lines, and look for signals in disguise,
are there enigmatic codes, that I can't recognize.
Your freckles are the stars, and your eyes are like jupiter and mars.
You stay close to the sun, your heavenly face may I never shun.
(Then repeat first part)

Dillon Mckeon


The Redhead
She walks into a room,any room, amongst the glow of the
fair haired blonde, amongst the mysterious darkness of the
brunette. Still, it is she who captivates all who gaze upon
her beauty. Both men & women alike cannot break the
desperate longing to look at her just once more. She is
mesmerizing, a rareity! So stunning is she that the pounding
heart skips a beat whenever in her presence. As this majestic
creature looks out toward her crowd of admirers, her eyes,full
of fire, are hipnotic, almost spell-like. As she floats throughout
the room, men hold their breath in hopes of containing their
relentless desire for this phenomenon among all others.She is a
description of unwavering passion,fire & ice,capable of driving men
into lustfull insanity & women into undiscovered realms of
jealously----- She is the Redhead.
                            Written by H.Stone 


My hair is like a burning flame
that glows like embers and fire,
a red shimmering rose
that can heat the heart to desire,
waves of orange tinted ginger
sweeter than a cherry tea,
My hair illuminates the since,s
for all there is to see,
A red exploding cloud
of vibrating energy,
But yet cool and calm
to the a curious probing hand,
Which unfastens my locks
from their gleaming golden band,
Now my flame hangs long
for his wanting stare,
A consuming fiery passion
for my long red hair.



A little ditty about freckles (in French I am afraid)

“Taches de rousseur est un mot bien cruel,
pourquoi pas sou des coccinelles,
soeurs de miel,
péchés du Carmel,
amour en dentelle,
frissons de demoiselle,
muettes bagatelles,
aimable missel,
étoiles en caramel,
nuage d'étincelles,
immobile cheptel ?

A bad translation would be:

"Redness spots is a most cruel word.
Why not ladybug's pennies,
honey sisters,
Carmel's sins,
love in lace,
damsel's shivers,
mute baubles,
loveable missal,
caramel stars,
sparks cloud,
motionless flock ?"



Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
I'm begging of you, please don't take my man
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Please don't take him even though you can.
Your beauty is beyond compare
with flaming locks of auburn hair
with ivory skin
and eyes of emerald green
Your smile is like a breath of spring
and your voice is soft like a summer rain
and I cannot compete with you, Jolene.

"Jolene", Dolly Parton


Red hair with a curl
mellow roll for the flavor
and the eyes were peeping
Can't keep away from the girl
these two sides of my brain
need to have a meeting
Can't think of anything to do
my left brain knows that all love is fleeting
She's just looking for something new
I said it once before
but it bears repeating.

"Fell In Love With a Girl", The White Stripes
Album: White Blood Cells


Mother, the car is here
Somebody leave the light on
Green limousine for the redhead
Dancing dancing girl and when I dance for him
somebody leave the light on just in case
I like dancing
I can remember where I come from

"Mother", Tori Amos
Album: Little Earthquakes


Fat readhead puffing on a Salem light
Drivin' her Cadillac
like she's the only one in sight
Cakes on the make-up in last minute situations
Her goal in life is spending money on vacation

"Someone Shoot Me", Boko Maru
Album: Dreamland


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