The Barber's Shop

a poem by tobias kerins, UK

The red and white stripes, depict the barber’s shop
Short back and sides, a perm or a crop
Windows are peppered, models’ photos everywhere
But the focal point, is the barber’s chair

Warm welcome is offered, Sir please take a seat
Had a long day, take the weight off your feet
Contact is made, in the mirror with eyes
The style is chosen, the man specifies

The barber’s shop, it’s like a trip to confession
But barber is of course, a different profession
He too has robes, and a heavenly touch
But thought to the Bible, he ain’t give much

They gradually talk, discuss topical matters
Dispelling the myth, the dream just shatters
Laying the fault, on the Government of the day
Stories of doom, of disarray

Bankers’ bonuses, benefit cuts
The Prime Minister gloats, the Chancellor struts
Immigration guidelines, the NHS
Anyone struggling, couldn’t care less

Football is discussed, healthily debated
Jimmy Hill indeed, could have narrated
Geoff Hurst’s goal, Maradona’s Hand of God
The Premiership Title, who’s got the best squad

Women as always, a favourite theme
Raquel Welch, the Italian dream
Some wonderful women, we’ve seen over time
Elizabeth Taylor, a sparkling dime

Nuclear weapons, the ongoing wars
Just who is right, the human flaws
Children are killed, men and women are raped
Dictators survive, justice escaped

The discarded hair, falls to the floor
Customer relaxed, he talks more and more
Barber he listens, many stories he’s told
Some he’s heard before, hundredfold

World has been put to rights, the customer has spoken
Barber has not, the golden rule broken
He has listened and nodded, did not once disagree
To the customer’s mind, he is a trustee

Customer pays, of course leaves a tip
Has a spring in his step, leaves with a skip
Unloaded his problems, now everything’s right
To this new world, he owns the copyright

The secrets that the barber, does hold in his mind
Could end the world, destroy mankind
If he opened his mouth, his knowledge disclosed
With an angry customer, he may come to blows

The trusted barber, his demon chair
Could with this world, many stories share
But if this did happen, many people would stop
Taking a trip, to the barber’s shop


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