Hatless Poem by gershon hepner

Arriving for his father’s funeral hatless
Edward landed, looking far from square,
said Betjeman. Though I am rarely catless,
my head, like Edward’s, is quite often bare.
My eyes, like his, are blue, and I’ve not doubted
that old men, cheating, often sit and stare,
while wondering who’s the next man to be outed
for landing landed hatless from the hostile air.
I have no red mahogany book-cases,
and Bible texts are often my main fare,
but with my trouser bottoms rolled, no laces
adorn the shoes that, hatless, I must wear.

Inspired by “Death of King George V” by John Betjeman, which I found on the blog of Ken Drive, who has blogged a number of my poems:

DEATH OF KING GEORGE V
('New King arrives in his capital by air' Daily Newspaper)
Spirit of well-shot woodcock, partridge, snipe
Flutter and bear him up the Norfolk sky:
In that red house in a red mahogany book-case
The stamp collection waits with mounts long dry.
The big blue eyes are shut which saw wrong clothing
And favourite fields and coverts from a horse;
Old men in country houses hear clocks ticking
Over thick carpets with a deadened force;
Old men who never cheated, never doubted,
Communicated monthly, sit and stare
At the new suburb stretched beyond the runway
Where a young man lands hatless from the air.

2/21/08