ON FIRST LOOKING INTO THE EYES OF JOHNNY SOLSTICE

This one wasn't ever meant to be seen rather than heard, but as it gets further away from the time and audiences for which it was written, the poem still seems to go over OK with people who now usually haven't ever experienced the force of nature that is Johnny Solstice. So making its debut as reading matter is an account of how it was for me the first time I had the encounter. Comments are invited please from you, the first public ever to read it.

 

Pride and prejudice both assaulted ;

Sense and sensibilty somersaulted,

At the first sight and sound of the ranting Scot -

Though now I know his voice

Is Scottish and he's really not. 

 

He got to the bit where his head might burst,

Lip-popped the microphone,

Swung his hair, slaked a thirst,

Performed a few more 

Smoked, grimaced, cursed,

And walked from the stage :

 

Walked my way - Heyhey 

The perfect chance for me to say,

"Hi -poet! enjoyed your stuff -

Even that bit that sounded a bit rough

When you accidentally popped the mic :

My advice? Keep it in, it worked,

Do it again : you could call it : Vox Pop"

 

Two Guinness-pool eyes lumbered over me :

The man didn't speak. 

"Hey! I'm fond of a drop of Guinness myself -

Didya know, 'Dublin' means 'Blackpool'? It's true!"

The man did not speak, but his smile glowed, beamed,

On me.  And - oh - it turned pitiful 

As he stood, and looked, and loomed, over me ;

And I sat and looked, up into those eyes -

And then -  a n d   t h e n ,  he kissed me.

B  o  o  m  - DahdooJohnJohnny. Johnny Solstice

Kissed me - on the top of my head,

 

Like a politician kissing a baby,

Or like a Thatcher fondling a calf, but more

Like a poet compassionately showing

A daft listener the right way to

Feel sheepish.

 

My brain's been clearer since, no scrapey there :

The treatment was right, like a mystic bonnie poultice

The night I was kissed by Johnny Solstice.

                                                                              JOHN  HEPWORTH,  c 2004?

 

 

◄ A BORSETSHIRE FANTASY : O CAROLINE

ZAARDVAARK THE WORDSMITER ►

Comments

cathyrn

Tue 4th Sep 2012 01:59

Dear John

I love the rhythm and rhyming. and I thought it well summed up the sides to Johnny; scary, nasty and soft,loving.

Johnny is alive and kicking. He still does the occasional gig; the last one was on the harbour wall at Dunbar in August. Its taken 4 years of nagging but he's been persuaded to publish via iliffe independent (aye aye?) iliffe.org.uk and his son put a pop mewsick video on utube.



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