In Britain today there is a lively debate about the messages that are given out by certain types of head/facial clothing, notably hoods and veils. This is my small contribution to that debate.

Don't be hoodwinked

Evening in a strange area,
Mist was rising and curling,
Dew was falling like little stars,
An owl heralded the twilight
With a muted hoot,
A bat flapped in and out
Of the dangling branches,
And then I saw them, a gang
Milling near the gate,
Giggling, chattering ten to the dozen,
Their outline was menacing,
Thick-set bodies, all wearing proud
Hoods about their grinning faces.
I walked nervously towards them,
Fearing humiliation or worse,
I neared them, praying nothing
Bad would happen to me...
Then my worst fears came alive,
I was challenged by one of them;
He stepped in front of me,
And peered into my face,
'Excuse me, sir, can you direct
Us to St. Thomas' monastry?'

Chris Fernie,2006

Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 432 times
Written on 2006-10-24 at 21:28

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Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh gosh you had me going again. I was caught up in the dangers lurking behind those hoods and then you zap me with the end. Funny, Funny stuff Chris. I love this one.