Hawkwind in a Frock….

Well, the clever poet, Trisha Broomfield has done it again. Another great poem, this time about an unforgettable era.

Now, Hawkwind. Didn’t people shake their heads to their music? Instead of dancing, they’d threw their head of hair around like Billy-O?! I mean, didn’t it hurt? Any thoughts on this, please write in.

Anyway, be blown away by this lovely, touching piece –

Hawkwind in a Frock

He invited her to a concert,

what to wear?

Night long, the sound of the Singer,

the slip, slide of material,

tension fraught, her foot on the treadle.

He called for her,

she noting his sneakers and jeans,

self-conscious, blushed,

pulled her deep purple maxi-coat

to cover the floaty floor length frock.

He parked the Austin under safe street lighting

hurried her to the hall.

The audience, beads, flared jeans, sat

cross-legged on bare boards,

she pulled at buttons to hide.

Hawkwind warped the walls,

strobed the ceiling, stunned the crowd.

Her high-heeled strappy shoes

squashed her toes.

In the dark she shrugged off her coat.

He shone blue eyes into hers and,

‘You look like a princess’, he mouthed

Trisha Broomfield 2020