Willowbrook Creatives Club
Canley Parade - Proud as a Peacock Poems
Poems from the talented folks at Willowbrook Residential Home, Canley
Peacock Boy
John Starkey
Sharp as a pin in bottle green flares,
Peacock boy, everyone stares.
Platform heels, four inch high,
Walking tall, I can touch the sky.
Living for the look,
‘Cos I wanna be seen,
This is what counts,
When you’re seventeen.
Heading into town,
On the 16 bus,
Swagger to the rock house,
Making a fuss.
Music’s loud,
The girls all scream,
Everlasting love,
You can dance the dream.
The boys are there,
In their two-tone suits,
The girls are all blond,
You can check out their roots.
Button down collar
On a pinstripe shirt,
Now that’s what I call,
A dickie dirt.
Gotta look sharp,
Gotta look mean,
Gotta look part,
In the fashion scene.
I’ve gotta fit in,
But I’ve gotta stand out,
No half measures,
No mucking about.
The Brut smells good,
On my never shaved face,
I’ve got ten park drive,
In a silver case.
‘Cos I’m smooth, I’m cool,
I’m the strutting biz,
I’ve got a girl on my arm,
I think her name’s Liz.
She’s the coolest chick,
In the whole damn place,
And I’m the peacock boy,
With the pretty face.
With my bottle green flares,
And my platform shoes,
I can dance all night,
To the soul and blues.
I’m a fashion king,
On top of the scene,
‘Cos that’s what counts,
When you’re seventeen.
I’m a fashion king,
On top of the scene,
‘Cos nothing else matters,
When you’re seventeen.
City Planners (Living the Dream)
John Starkey
They gave us bricks and mortar,
They gave us concrete too,
They gave us lots of money,
And said ‘see what you can do’.
So we built a roof top carpark,
With a market underneath,
But when the people saw it,
They gave us lots of grief!
We built it out of concrete,
As brutal as can be,
A thing of natural beauty,
But no one could agree.
‘It’s ugly, monstrous ,out of sync,
With everything around,
A total waste of money,
Tear it to the ground!’
We want our buildings beautiful,
We want them looking neat,
We want them built in proper stone,
Not nasty, grey concrete!
But look, we said, it’s more than that,
Take a look below,
The market’s really functional,
It’s not just there for show!
Everything that you could need,
Beneath that carpark roof,
Don’t be so stand offish,
Don’t be so aloof!
There’s fruit and veg of every type,
Onions, carrots, peas,
Courgettes, leeks and cabbages,
And someone selling cheese.
There’s mandarins and oranges,
Apples, green and red,
Big round juicy melons,
The size of someone’s head.
It’s a haberdashers paradise,
With needles, pins and cloth,
Yards of choice material,
For the granny or the goth.
Stalls for all your pet needs,
Cats and dogs and mice.
Meats n treats of bonio,
All things to entice.
Shoes and boots and trainers,
Overcoats and shirts,
Ladies twinset outfits,
And fancy floral skirts.
There’s goodies here for every purse,
Always something to astound,
And if the kids get bored with shopping,
Chuck ‘em on the merry go round
So come and have a look inside,
This merchandising maze,
But mind you keep your bearing,
‘Cos you’ll be stuck in here for days.
It’s listed now as a grade two gem,
Of architectural joy,
Loved by all and sundry,
Every girl and boy.
If you’ve grown up in Coventry,
You’ll have shopped there, no doubt,
This socialist, realist, modernist dream,
We could not live without.
Sweets for My Sweet
John Starkey
I shared a packet of Love Hearts,
To express undying love,
To this vision of natural beauty,
My sweet, sweet turtle dove.
I chose the one that said ‘I do’,
She chose the one that said ‘I don’t’,
I chose the one that said 'I will’,
She chose the one that said ‘I won’t!’
Be mine! I cried, I need your heart!
I want to marry you!
Get lost, she yelled, you’re not for me!
I’ve told you once, we’re through!
You’re silver tongued, I’ll grant you that,
You sure do talk the talk!
But I want a man to treat me well,
One who can walk the walk!
Treat me like a goddess,
A princess or a queen!
I don’t want a man with the gift of the gab,
A second rate old has been!
Show me a love heart that says ‘sincere’,
Not ‘fickle, vain or weak’,
I said, that must be in a different pack,
I’ll buy some more next week!
The Round Café
John Starkey
They built a little café,
As round, as round could be.
A lovely place to have a snack,
A coffee or a tea.
They placed it on the pedestal,
So far above the ground,
And to this day some folk believe,
That it spun round and round.
It didn’t though,
That’s just a myth,
A fantasy,
A dream.
I have it on good authority,
From the city planners’ team.
But people flocked to be there,
This folly in the sky.
Some folk thought it was marvellous,
Others wondered why.
The teddy boys,
Were all turfed out,
They didn’t like to pay,
Buy one cup,
Lounge about,
And use up half the day.
But ma and pa and auntie too,
Uncle Freddie, me and you,
Tired mother, kid in a pram,
Here for a sarni, cheese or ham.
Office girls on a lunchtime break,
Step in for a cuppa and piece of cake.
No dogs allowed,
The signs declare,
But Fido’s hidden,
Underneath a chair.
By the lady,
In a plastic mac.
Knee high boots,
And a button top cap.
There’s allsorts here,
In the round café,
As it was back then,
So it is today.
The faces change,
The fashions too,
But there’s always a welcome ,
For me and you.
The round café,
Is a magical thing,
Even if it doesn’t spin!
