When I grow old I'll wear animal print

An English poet, Jenny Joseph, wrote a poem called "Warning"  in 1961, published 1974. It was about rebelling in your old age, and became well known, because it was a symbol of change.
She wrote, "When I grow old , I shall wear purple and a red hat that doesn't suit."
If you were a teenager in 1961 you would understand the fashion constraints of the time, the inequality, the class consciousness and the oppression of "know your place/station" mentality". It was a time in Australia where some people thought they were more equal than others, especially  if their parents or grandparents had owned land, (even if they lost it) and this landowner attitude seeped into the snobbishness of class. You were judged by your clothes, matching hat and gloves, matching shoes and handbag, and where you lived, and your occupation. Not to mention your religion and heritage.
Needless to say, if there was a "touch of the tar"- a hint of aboriginal ancestry, you were never going to be accepted. You would never be invited to be a Deb... never  a Debutante.
I experienced this same oppression of class just  few years ago, when an older "friend" said I had no "right" to own a Mercedes. I should stick to my "station".(class) She reminded me that I was bought up in a working class family and I should know my place. I asked her how much her car cost, and she replied $26,000.00  I reminded her that my old Mercedes sedan only cost $5,000.00
Nevertheless I still had no right to own it!  I thought by going to university, teaching and running my own businesses would make me more equal, but it didn't, not in her eyes, but it did in mine.

Here is my own take on that idea of rebelling in your old age.

30.4.12

Camouflage

When I grow old, I won't wear purple,

or a hat of orange or red,

I will do more than

rock the establish-ment.

I won't wear twinsets in mauve or grey,

I will wear whatever I may.

I won't have blue or mauve rinse

in my white, white hair,

or wear muted hue,

or care if I'm fat, or try to please you.

When I grow old

I will wear animal print,

I'll wear leopard with tiger frill

and they'll all wonder

but won't see me, when I stand still.

I'll be known by my prints

of zebra, black and white,

and some days I'll wear

clashing rings in colours bright.

I'll buy a little sport's car,

and whizz down the street,

and nearly run over,

whoever I meet.

But I'll still be the same,

the same me within

just cloaked and crinkled,

hidden, in wrinkled old skin.

In the Garden

8. 
   
   
   
   re visited 8.4.12

Someone mentioned to me recently that maybe some of my poems could be used as lyrics.

So I thought I should copy the 100 or so and make them available to my songwriter friends. Copyright and all rights reserved, of course  So that's the intent. Whether my actions will actually meet the intent is another thing.  And the consequences? Who knows where they might end up. . You might like to view some of my other blogs.  http://Magicalandmysterious.blogspot.com is another, and I have others on vqarious subjects from permaculturevisions to green and goldenbell frog to climate change etc.

Here's another from the list of over 100 poems/prose.

Poem/prose

In the garden.

Wiley wasps stir and then swarm,

while a soldier bee on watch sees me as a bear,

so suddenly strikes.

The bee sacrifices himself for the sake of the colony,

stinging me on the nape of my neck.

Meanwhile birds beckon,

then swoop silently,

on a smorgasboard of insects,

while lizards sunbake

and sniff the air,

for a scent of prey.