It hung on the ocean like naughty stepchild waiting for her parent to sleep. Too stubborn to set, it peeked out at all of us and we stared back. Its heat had all but faded, but it shone bright still, lighting up the sky like a smoldering candle.
Auburn as a hair color is always cited as being so gorgeous, but isn’t it really just brown? “You have such wonderful nut-brown hair” my mother used to say as I assaulted it with bleach and dye, turning the nutty mass into a thick, tortured tangle of green and red and pink (although never all together.) I don’t even know what color it is anymore, after all these years.
Her hair was auburn, I think. I’m not even sure what auburn is, really. Brown? Brown with blonde streaks? Something else? And while we’re discussing hair, what is “ash”, exactly? This is one of the things I admire about women: that they have been given such high expectations by society that they must know the secret code of words like auburn and ash and nail files and all the little knickknacks you find in the cosmetics aisle in CVS. Women of the world, I applaud you!
I love colors that depict the beautiful of of God’s creation. But the one that I find most fascinating is the color auburn. This color held my attention ever since my childhood days at school.
Auburn. She had auburn hAir. The kind that romance novels always talk about. The kind that boys supposedly obsess over. The kind that girls dye their hair to get to because it’s so pretty. Auburn. It wasn’t that she didn’t care bout how she looked; she just didn’t want to care. She’d tried that already. Look where that had gotten her.
i’m burning with awe as i watch the tiny glowing pieces drip away from my hands into the dark and out of this hemisphere towards a place you might have called home once but do you even remember ever having lived there, having breathed in that corner of space, sacrosanct and pristine, inspite of the eons of excrement it has seen, inspite of all the erosion that it has endured.
They sat together beneath the auburn rays, their faces a picture of nothing less then absolute bliss. Radiant smiles tainted their features, and there was an aura of peace and serenity about them.
I come to you with auburn hair and a face dry from winter wind, and I love that you smile with crooked teeth that match the waves in your hips, and the broken gait in your unfelt blood. would it run through you so quickly if you knew what your smile looked like? would it if you knew how it looked to me? no, probably. maybe. answers are difficult. not like your waves.
Auburn was her name. She was the array of beauty. She had a heart of gold. It wasn’t until you met her that you understood the meaning of a genuine soul and the kindness of a loving woman. Auburn was her name. She was an array of beauty.
ok well the least i can say is that this word looks like album. when one sees a words and instantly thinks of another word that this really a sign. auburn reminds of saying that you’ve gently burned yourself, and its very pretty
i just did this color/word. and apparently i figured out that i wanted to be blonde because i would get more attention that way because I dont get enough now. auburn was the color i might have dyed my hair because turns out that color doesnt look half bad on me. i just want to jazz it up a bit.
I like that band and their music. I like music a lot too. It’s a color and it reminds me of autumn. I like fall colors and food. Holidays are fun. I miss my family. A lot… I love you dad.
auburn hair. red balloons. scarlet. scarlet eyes and hearts and souls. scarlet passions that burn in the night and ache in the pit of the stomach. fast pumping blood coursing through veins of desire – racing, searching, longing, clutching, feeding, inspiring, then fading into the blackness of sleep, of rest, of peace, of death. the red of a cool star in the vastness of infinity. dust that makes the dirt, that makes the mud, that makes the clay, that built ancient homes, temples, gathering places. flowers under foot to make the day more sweet, to make the harshness of life a little more meaningful, to share encouragement to loved ones, to keep the world kind. like the egg that blooms inside the womb. the seed that will become a baby and soon a child. a child with auburn hair. she will have red balloons on her birthday and her eyes will flash scarlet when she cries or laughs or sings. and youll swear you can hear that sound, in the deep, darkness of night. in the afterglow of love and you know that theres something happening. after the supernova, in the coolness proceeding, you know that something is growing, shaping, evolving in its place. and it all goes ever on. as microbes multiply and humans change and the suns burn up and more planets and solar systems form and the universe expands, we all dance, and spin, and shake, and groan, and sigh, and it all goes on and on.
It was the color of my hair when he brushed it through his fingers. Nothing felt like that before; the way he grinned and pushed it back from my face because he wanted to see me laugh and smile. No one has ever done that before; been genuinely interested in every aspect of me.
Images evoking memoires of long-forgotten bliss
delving into fathoms which once ceased to exist
we are lost among the supernovas
trilling and erupting in volcanic frantic auras
Her hair was a rich, silky curtain of auburn. I’m sure that it would be quite soft to touch. However, from my place on the floor, there was nothing soft about the woman standing over me. Her eyes were a cold glittering amber, and her lips curled in a predatory smile that made me want to crawl away to safety. She reached down and ran her fingers through my hair and I closed my eyes, hesitation snatching me in its cold fist. Did I really want to go through with this? Auburn hair… An image flashed behind my eyelids, of the last time I’d seen auburn hair. Just a trick the firelight played on your lovely head. I winced. I’d seen this movie before, I knew how it ended. Opening my eyes again, pain emboldening me like alcohol, I smirked at the hungry face above me.
“Come and get it.”
Her hair shone in the sunlight. It was a beautiful day, warm and blue and everything Heather had dreamed about. If only this was what it should have been, and not what it was. It should have been her wedding. Instead it was her funeral.
I’ve always wanted to change my hair color. I was thinking a deep red with a tint of purple. Auburn is nice… it has red tones in it. My father has always been in love with Auburn hair. He says it’s just seriously really gorgeous, so I figured… what would happen if I dyed my hair to auburn? Maybe I would catch someones eye, maybe I’d overhear him say “Man… she’s just seriously really gorgeous.” Or something along those lines. I’d like to have someone that says “Man… that deep chocolate brown hair… she’s just seriously really gorgeous.” My sister got the beautiful looks though. The hair, the smile, the perfect pearly whites, the sexy legs etc. I’m not sure what I got though, not quite sure what my father and mothers DNA stitched together and produced. Maybe my eyes… they’re big and brown i guess. My legs… man my calfs are hard muscle… man legs some would call. My hair? It doesn’t hold curl like hers does. I’ve always heard that a woman with curled hair is the ideal woman. Oops. guess my DNA missed out on that one.
Fire. It burns. In the sunlight her hair called to me. Sweet curls of auburn. I wonder how her hair smells like. Perhaps as sweet as her. I want to run my fingers through those curls of hers, but I know I will never have the courage. I can only observe from afar. Like the sun, I cannot get near to her.
I never saw her again. Just another missed connection in this city filled with people.
It’s the color of the shirt he was wearing yesterday. Or at least I think it was. I don’t really remember. I remember more just the color of his eyes and the way he smiled at me. The way he put his arm over my shoulders. I wish I could be warmer, could have reciprocated that sweet gesture. I’m just too shy. I don’t know how to. It would be so easy to just reach up and intertwine my fingers with his, so why don’t I?
Auburn strands fell across the Princess’s pillow. She’d been sleeping there for so many years that her tresses had become quite tangled. Asleep, she may have been, but it clearly had not been peaceful. Even as the handsome adventuring prince watched, she began tossing about on the mattress, the sheets were tangled around her limbs and the heavier coverlets and pillows long since discarded to the dusty floor. Pretty though. Even with the drool running down the side of her face.
In her hurry to leave, her shoulder collided with a thin, angular auburn haired boy. He whipped around faster than she thought was possible.
“Watch it,” he snarled. His eyebrows cast deep shadows over his eyes, which were more of an unsettling yellow than hazel.
Auburn. The color of my hair in the winter time. I liked it better than in the summer because I didn’t want blonde highlights. I wanted to be unique. I’ve always wanted to be different. Please love me. Auburn. The color of a really good crayon. The one I always used for my hair and tree bark. Only good when it’s real.
Auburn. What a name. It told immeasurable amounts about me: My hair colour, my temperament, my culture. My name, of course. Funny what one word can do.
Auburn. The color of my hair in the winter time. I liked it better than in the summer because I didn’t want blonde highlights. I wanted to be unique. I’ve always wanted to be different. Please love me. Auburn. The color of a really good crayon. The one I always used for my hair and tree bark. Only good when it’s real.
It hung on the ocean like naughty stepchild waiting for her parent to sleep. Too stubborn to set, it peeked out at all of us and we stared back. Its heat had all but faded, but it shone bright still, lighting up the sky like a smoldering candle.
Auburn as a hair color is always cited as being so gorgeous, but isn’t it really just brown? “You have such wonderful nut-brown hair” my mother used to say as I assaulted it with bleach and dye, turning the nutty mass into a thick, tortured tangle of green and red and pink (although never all together.) I don’t even know what color it is anymore, after all these years.
auburn into the night, and watch the sheer light as it refracts and reflects, as it disperses and connects..
Auburn can be used to describe a particular shade of hair, which is close to a blond.
It is also the name of a city in USA.
The little girl had a flaming auburn hair, tumbling down her shoulder. Her eyes as deep as the colour of the sea.
Her hair was auburn, I think. I’m not even sure what auburn is, really. Brown? Brown with blonde streaks? Something else? And while we’re discussing hair, what is “ash”, exactly? This is one of the things I admire about women: that they have been given such high expectations by society that they must know the secret code of words like auburn and ash and nail files and all the little knickknacks you find in the cosmetics aisle in CVS. Women of the world, I applaud you!
I love colors that depict the beautiful of of God’s creation. But the one that I find most fascinating is the color auburn. This color held my attention ever since my childhood days at school.
Auburn. She had auburn hAir. The kind that romance novels always talk about. The kind that boys supposedly obsess over. The kind that girls dye their hair to get to because it’s so pretty. Auburn. It wasn’t that she didn’t care bout how she looked; she just didn’t want to care. She’d tried that already. Look where that had gotten her.
i’m burning with awe as i watch the tiny glowing pieces drip away from my hands into the dark and out of this hemisphere towards a place you might have called home once but do you even remember ever having lived there, having breathed in that corner of space, sacrosanct and pristine, inspite of the eons of excrement it has seen, inspite of all the erosion that it has endured.
The morning air was crisp.Her hair flowed around her face as the wind made it dance.A tear caught in her eye.
Her hair was auburn.
They sat together beneath the auburn rays, their faces a picture of nothing less then absolute bliss. Radiant smiles tainted their features, and there was an aura of peace and serenity about them.
They vowed to make their final day last.
I come to you with auburn hair and a face dry from winter wind, and I love that you smile with crooked teeth that match the waves in your hips, and the broken gait in your unfelt blood. would it run through you so quickly if you knew what your smile looked like? would it if you knew how it looked to me? no, probably. maybe. answers are difficult. not like your waves.
it is a redish brown or redish golden colour. it may also mean as the name of a country
i don’t know what is auburn. i think its a ………………don’t know
A wisp of sunset, a splash of chocolate.
The beauty of deepness.
Auburn was her name. She was the array of beauty. She had a heart of gold. It wasn’t until you met her that you understood the meaning of a genuine soul and the kindness of a loving woman. Auburn was her name. She was an array of beauty.
no idea what auburn is. is it a colour?
a food, maybe?
or is it the kind of sunBURN one gets in AUtumn?
Somebody help me please.
ok well the least i can say is that this word looks like album. when one sees a words and instantly thinks of another word that this really a sign. auburn reminds of saying that you’ve gently burned yourself, and its very pretty
I don’t know more about auburn. Is it some thing that is related to reddish or brown color.There is also a university named auburn.
i just did this color/word. and apparently i figured out that i wanted to be blonde because i would get more attention that way because I dont get enough now. auburn was the color i might have dyed my hair because turns out that color doesnt look half bad on me. i just want to jazz it up a bit.
I like that band and their music. I like music a lot too. It’s a color and it reminds me of autumn. I like fall colors and food. Holidays are fun. I miss my family. A lot… I love you dad.
something very wrong is going on.
auburn hair. red balloons. scarlet. scarlet eyes and hearts and souls. scarlet passions that burn in the night and ache in the pit of the stomach. fast pumping blood coursing through veins of desire – racing, searching, longing, clutching, feeding, inspiring, then fading into the blackness of sleep, of rest, of peace, of death. the red of a cool star in the vastness of infinity. dust that makes the dirt, that makes the mud, that makes the clay, that built ancient homes, temples, gathering places. flowers under foot to make the day more sweet, to make the harshness of life a little more meaningful, to share encouragement to loved ones, to keep the world kind. like the egg that blooms inside the womb. the seed that will become a baby and soon a child. a child with auburn hair. she will have red balloons on her birthday and her eyes will flash scarlet when she cries or laughs or sings. and youll swear you can hear that sound, in the deep, darkness of night. in the afterglow of love and you know that theres something happening. after the supernova, in the coolness proceeding, you know that something is growing, shaping, evolving in its place. and it all goes ever on. as microbes multiply and humans change and the suns burn up and more planets and solar systems form and the universe expands, we all dance, and spin, and shake, and groan, and sigh, and it all goes on and on.
It was the color of my hair when he brushed it through his fingers. Nothing felt like that before; the way he grinned and pushed it back from my face because he wanted to see me laugh and smile. No one has ever done that before; been genuinely interested in every aspect of me.
Moving to Alabama ruined this hair color for me. “Roll, crimson damn elephant-tiger-eagle, ROLL.”
Red as the day began. Auburn burning as she went into the fields, Love & Red flowing, ever flowing.
Images evoking memoires of long-forgotten bliss
delving into fathoms which once ceased to exist
we are lost among the supernovas
trilling and erupting in volcanic frantic auras
Her hair was a rich, silky curtain of auburn. I’m sure that it would be quite soft to touch. However, from my place on the floor, there was nothing soft about the woman standing over me. Her eyes were a cold glittering amber, and her lips curled in a predatory smile that made me want to crawl away to safety. She reached down and ran her fingers through my hair and I closed my eyes, hesitation snatching me in its cold fist. Did I really want to go through with this? Auburn hair… An image flashed behind my eyelids, of the last time I’d seen auburn hair. Just a trick the firelight played on your lovely head. I winced. I’d seen this movie before, I knew how it ended. Opening my eyes again, pain emboldening me like alcohol, I smirked at the hungry face above me.
“Come and get it.”
Her hair shone in the sunlight. It was a beautiful day, warm and blue and everything Heather had dreamed about. If only this was what it should have been, and not what it was. It should have been her wedding. Instead it was her funeral.
I’ve always wanted to change my hair color. I was thinking a deep red with a tint of purple. Auburn is nice… it has red tones in it. My father has always been in love with Auburn hair. He says it’s just seriously really gorgeous, so I figured… what would happen if I dyed my hair to auburn? Maybe I would catch someones eye, maybe I’d overhear him say “Man… she’s just seriously really gorgeous.” Or something along those lines. I’d like to have someone that says “Man… that deep chocolate brown hair… she’s just seriously really gorgeous.” My sister got the beautiful looks though. The hair, the smile, the perfect pearly whites, the sexy legs etc. I’m not sure what I got though, not quite sure what my father and mothers DNA stitched together and produced. Maybe my eyes… they’re big and brown i guess. My legs… man my calfs are hard muscle… man legs some would call. My hair? It doesn’t hold curl like hers does. I’ve always heard that a woman with curled hair is the ideal woman. Oops. guess my DNA missed out on that one.
Fire. It burns. In the sunlight her hair called to me. Sweet curls of auburn. I wonder how her hair smells like. Perhaps as sweet as her. I want to run my fingers through those curls of hers, but I know I will never have the courage. I can only observe from afar. Like the sun, I cannot get near to her.
I never saw her again. Just another missed connection in this city filled with people.
It’s the color of the shirt he was wearing yesterday. Or at least I think it was. I don’t really remember. I remember more just the color of his eyes and the way he smiled at me. The way he put his arm over my shoulders. I wish I could be warmer, could have reciprocated that sweet gesture. I’m just too shy. I don’t know how to. It would be so easy to just reach up and intertwine my fingers with his, so why don’t I?
Her hair, glistening in the spray of the sea, flowed behind her like an auburn wave.
Auburn strands fell across the Princess’s pillow. She’d been sleeping there for so many years that her tresses had become quite tangled. Asleep, she may have been, but it clearly had not been peaceful. Even as the handsome adventuring prince watched, she began tossing about on the mattress, the sheets were tangled around her limbs and the heavier coverlets and pillows long since discarded to the dusty floor. Pretty though. Even with the drool running down the side of her face.
Heading down to Auburn University to visit the old stomping grounds. To relive old memories and examine past glories. Ah, youth, I miss it.
In her hurry to leave, her shoulder collided with a thin, angular auburn haired boy. He whipped around faster than she thought was possible.
“Watch it,” he snarled. His eyebrows cast deep shadows over his eyes, which were more of an unsettling yellow than hazel.
Auburn. The color of my hair in the winter time. I liked it better than in the summer because I didn’t want blonde highlights. I wanted to be unique. I’ve always wanted to be different. Please love me. Auburn. The color of a really good crayon. The one I always used for my hair and tree bark. Only good when it’s real.
Auburn. What a name. It told immeasurable amounts about me: My hair colour, my temperament, my culture. My name, of course. Funny what one word can do.
Auburn. The color of my hair in the winter time. I liked it better than in the summer because I didn’t want blonde highlights. I wanted to be unique. I’ve always wanted to be different. Please love me. Auburn. The color of a really good crayon. The one I always used for my hair and tree bark. Only good when it’s real.