Gavin Turner


Lose The Syrup - Poem by Gavin Turner

Every time you see me wince

When your toupee misshapes

How long must I endure

Your less than subtle skull capes


How it flops and furls around your head

When you get up to dance

How it holds the general public

In a static gaping trance


How I hate, how I despise

When you allow your lid to rise

When it detaches in small patches

as you swerve the stormy skies


What is hiding 'neath your syrup?

some sort of barber based disaster?

Does your scalp squeak when you wash it?

Is it pale as alabaster?


lose the syrup

don’t use a syrup

remove the syrup I beg


I imagine a dilemma

When your lady friend comes round

you kiss her gently on the hand

While holding tight to your crown


Will the rug remain in situ

As you dazzle with repartee?

Or watch in horror

as it falls in her lap

when you serve her creme brulee?


and in your efforts to impress

tell me how far would you undress?

would you rest it on the mantle?

or perch it on a candle?

are there contraptions by the bedside

Does it need a nightly mangle?


or do you prefer to fling it with abandon?

do you let it freely roam?

is it scattered with your clothing

like a guinea pig, uncombed?



What’s the deal with what lies under?

does it look like a wrinkled egg

Whatever it is can it be that bad?

remove the syrup I beg


lose the syrup

don’t use a syrup

remove the syrup I beg


are you afraid to show your curls

or is it thin and getting thinner?

is it tattooed with a picture

of your favourite Sunday dinner?


was that dye job so disastrous

that it requires a hairy jacket?

did the lustrous black it promised you

not do what it said on the packet?


Do you remember at the racetrack

When you stooped to pick up your beer

Do you remember the redness of my face

When you uttered the words so clear


Ahem, scuse me love

but it would appear my syrup

is caught in your stirrup

just to think of it drives me to tears


Whatever it is stop worrying

Bald is cool man,

Bald is character,

When all's been done and said,

So please remove that weird appendage

you have resting on your head


It isn’t cool, you don’t look young,

You look like what you are

An ageing, vain and wig adorning

man who went too far


Dad, you're old, you're bald, let it go

Topic(s) of this poem: family, men, parents


Poet's Notes about The Poem

poem about male pattern baldness and the unending embarrassing attempts to prevent the inevitable

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 19, 2015



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