My belated entry to the hippy thing.
The hipsters in stripes bold,
My feet could cope to the roots
With the narrowest Chelsea boots,
My neck could gently breathe
As I wrestled with a raglan sleeve,
My hair could stand up for itself,
Such was the state of my health,
But I worried about the Bomb,
And the girl who had more aplomb,
And I mimed to Leonard Cohen
In bedsits with rentals owing,
And admired the latest mini
Worn by superior ladies skinny,
And I went to San Francisco
By a turntable in a disco,
And I spoke to my fellow man
As only a modern poet can,
With meters of peculiar feet
Set in the strongest concrete.
And now forty years on
With nearly everything gone,
I look back and remember
How the fire became an ember...
... but I still mime to Leonard Cohen.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 504 times
Written on 2006-10-01 at 18:38
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Hip hip hooray
My teenage hips could holdThe hipsters in stripes bold,
My feet could cope to the roots
With the narrowest Chelsea boots,
My neck could gently breathe
As I wrestled with a raglan sleeve,
My hair could stand up for itself,
Such was the state of my health,
But I worried about the Bomb,
And the girl who had more aplomb,
And I mimed to Leonard Cohen
In bedsits with rentals owing,
And admired the latest mini
Worn by superior ladies skinny,
And I went to San Francisco
By a turntable in a disco,
And I spoke to my fellow man
As only a modern poet can,
With meters of peculiar feet
Set in the strongest concrete.
And now forty years on
With nearly everything gone,
I look back and remember
How the fire became an ember...
... but I still mime to Leonard Cohen.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 504 times
Written on 2006-10-01 at 18:38
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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