Silver Platform Boots

What a title eh? Yes, Poetry Lovers, it conjures up all sorts of memories and images for us!

Our lovely and clever poet, Trisha Broomfield has penned us this wonderful poem with the alluring title above.

I remember girls like this at parties, walking in like they owned the place. I also tried not to stare. Well, read on….

Silver Platform Boots

She walks in silver

platform boots

right for cash

left for stash,

she doles out dope

and other illegal substances

with equanimity

and a keen eye for business.

She doesn’t carry a handbag

or wash her hair,

wears an Afghan coat

which stands in the

corner stiffly

sulking, when she takes it off

she smells of goats.

Her name’s Fenella

nickname Fence,

a little side line,

to access her cash

she hauls up her voluminous

Indian print skirts,

unzips a boot

peels off damp notes

from beneath colourful

holey socks,

as the girls with purses

try not to stare.

Wasn’t that amazing, PL’s? Sad, but with a seedy glamour. I remember the sort of parties she would go to where everyone just turned up.

I was more inclined to sit next to the numerous Yes albums scattered in the living room. It made it look like I actually liked them – sadly, no-one was impressed.

Tune in same time, same channel for more poetry power ……