Hello Poetry Lovers, now I’ve been tidying out the Poetry Sideboard to find a theme for today’s post. And I came up with yet another poignant memory from 1971.
As you can see, there is a wealth of material lurking in here, so I’ve penned this one set in ‘71 and the importance of the right clothes for the disco. In fact, I remember it being the end of the world!
My Mum won’t let me wear her wet look boots,
she won’t even knit me a tank top
My brother won’t lend me his Ben Sherman.
I can’t pass off my PE shorts as hot pants.
And maxi dresses are too expensive.
I’ll never get a boyfriend now,
my mates up the disco all have slow dances
with random youths, but even when
my pal lends me her smock top,
I still don’t get asked.
Approaching fourteen, and never been with a boy!
I am entirely on the shelf!
I miserably listen to David Cassidy on
“Whatever suits you is fashionable”,
he said in Mirabelle magazine.
He’s talking through his arse!
Thanks for reading, PL’s. A lot of us can remember those times. Weren’t maxi dresses beautiful? And so painfully out of reach for a lot of us! Tune in soon for more poetry antics….