Bluid Kin (24 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.Kinsman: Ötzi the iceman.K1 subcluster o the mitochondrial haplogroup K

He bedd there ben the aeons,
The ice- caul ower his skull as smeeth as glaiss
Haein gane hyne ayont aa men’s fear
Inno the mids o the void.

Ae sunny day twa hikers fae Nuremberg
Waukin in the Ötztal Alps
Left the merked fitpath on a whim

Passin a steeny corrie filled wi icebree
They luiked wi grue upon a human corp
Mistook him fur a modern murder victim.

Sae, Ötzi the ice man cam tae be reborn
Fiftythree hunner year efter his daith
His body, (thirled like iron tae the rock)
Bi jack haimmer an ice-axe, yarked fae its lair
Hacked fae the glacier’s breist

The morgue at Innsbruck laid his secrets bare
Smaa and sturdy, Europe’s auldest mummy

It’s odds on that the subject’s een war broon
His lungs war blaik wi breathin in hairth-rikk
His neb an ribs had brukken, bit healed ower.
His shank banes telt he wis an uplan herdsman
Traivellin lang miles on unca steep terrain

Six months afore he deed, he’d bin nae weel
Heezin wi wirms and flechs, a sufferin host
His teeth, worn doon wi forty years o chawin
His back tattooed alang the lumbar spine

Twa oors afore his daith, he’d taen a meal
O ibex, wheat bran, reets an Alpine fruit
Dined in a conifer widlan, in the spring.

Wi him, he cairriet flax, barley an poppy
An the kernels o slaes & berries, fine an sappy

He wore a plaid vrocht ooto wuvven girse
A coat, belt, pair o leggins, loinclaith, sheen,
Aa leather, cut frae different kinno skins.
A bearskin bunnet, leather strap aneth.

Inbye his pyoke a rowth o eesefu ferlies:
A scraper, drill, flint, fungus, an bone awl
Alang wi berries, birch baskets, fire-flint
Wi medicine mushrooms tae takk care o sairs

Upon his feet, sheen watterpruif an wide,
Seeminly vrocht fur traivellin ower snaa;
Bearskin fur soles, deer hide as the tap panels,
A nettin ooto tree bark. Girse fur hose
Sae weel designed, a Czech entrepreneur
Priggit tae buy the richts fur manufacture.

An there ye hae’t. A Stane Age warrior
Lyin aside his weapons on the Ben.
Flint knife wi ash haunle. Aixe blade wi yew haunle,
Quiver o arras. A bow an a sherpenin antler

These are the facks, nyaakit laid oot in the lab
Neist, cams conjecture.

Did he dee frae caul in a storm o coorse blin-drift?
Was he a victim o ritual sacrifice?
(He had an arra deep in his left showder)
Wis it a tribal tulzie in the Alps?

This, mynd, is truith:
Forensic expert Dr Rainer Henn,
Fa pit the corp in a body bag wi his bare hauns,
Deed in a road accident, on his wye tae a collogue
Tae spikk aboot the resurrectit ice man

The Alpine guide Kurt Fritz
Fa organised the ice man’s helicopter
Deed in a snaa slide o a suddenty
The anely ane o the climmers tae be killt

The hiker frae Nurenmberg fa fand him
Fell 300ft doon a skyty Alpine brae
His corp fand frozen unner a sheet o ice

Ötzi the ice man’s keepit in the cauld
Wi ae wee windae fur fowk tae keek in
Tae gawp at him, his rig-bane like a zip
The curator makks a cafetiere o coffee
As bairns in uniforms gyang kecklin by

The corp is deef tae aa bit the soun o seelence
His harns haud secrets anely corries ken.


2.A Bairn’s first Screivins

The crayon hyters alang
Like a brukken wheel
Yarkin up an doon wi a will o’ts ain

The littlin’s haun is the bridle
On a kickin sheltie
The infant letters kickin ower the traces


3.The Howf Ower the Border

There’s a howf ower the Border best gien a wide berth
Fowk wyte fower oors for their maet
The ashets are chippit, nae bowls match ava
An the pudden’s plunked on a side plate.

The soup’s in a basin..it’s satty an cauld
The coffee machine gies a hoast
A shakk an a shudder. It floods ower the fleer
Syne pyochers an gies up the ghost
An auld wifie wytin fur tatties an mince
Fell asleep fairly scunnert be’t aa
She wis deid ere dessert…bit wi leeks throw the bree
There wis naeb’dy tae cairt her awa

There wis nae table watter, forbye’s a wee skoosh
The cutlery cam in aa sizes
There wis crumbs lyin thick on the cheers an the fleers
Fegs there jist wis nae eyn o surprises

The waitress hid plooks an a stook o pink hair
The waiter wis dour an hauf canned
An they baith shauchled roon wi the speed o a slug
In thon howf that the cdeevil hid spawned


4.Things I ken Aboot Masel

I’m crabbit wi moochers an dossers
I lue ma baby grandother’s creashie neives
Chauncers gie me the dry boke
I lue the sun on a loch like sharn sheenin

Ma life birls widdershins
Mair bairn-like as the thinnin reel rins doon
Yestreen I saw a deid tod on the road
An wad hae gien a warld tae see it lowp


5.Sea Visions

A siller mermaid left the meen
An lowped intae a midnicht burn
An cheenged intae a lichtsome linn
That turned a kelpie’s butter churn

Bit scunnered o thon darg she rose
An sang a dirge ootower the sea
An syne a muckle anchor brak
A lang-drooned galleon brukk free

The dowie liltin o the whales
Rang dreich aroon the deadly bay
As tae the shore the seelent ship
Wis crewed bi thrang o ghaisties grey

The mermaid skelped her sonsie tail
Three times, an cheenged intae a sail
O purest silk, tied tae the mast
That cud survive baith storm an gale

An up the dreepin boatie raise
Frae meenlicht sea tae starnie nicht
Intae the hap o rollin clouds
Syne wi a grue, it dwined frae sicht


6.A Letter frae the Future

Ye’ll come tae this
Ye aywis kent ye wid
For I hunker doon inbye ye, even the day
An incubus, bow-backit
A crined an slaverin orral o a craitur
Aa een an saggy skin
Wrinkled prune wi the nails o an auld craa

Crone. Cailleach. Scrattin the yird o yestreen
Like a hen-wife luikin fur eggs in a thorny buss

Ye’ll craik like a taed in the sheugh
Shauchle warty an creashie
Ower ilkie day obstacles like stairs

Yer bairns will veesit, dutifu, ae ee on the clock
Daith will come as a frien.

Lippen. Even noo
He’s jinglin his key in the lock


7.Meditation on Winter

The nicht is in ma mou
Craas race in a briest fur the wids

Wytin fur snaa
Burns jeel aneth ice
Frost ploos sharper rigs
In the ley park

The hurtin cauld
Gnaas at ma dirlin neives


8.Wren

I mynd fin friendship wis pure an true
I mynd hate grew frae a hard betrayal
I mynd fin ma neive clenched like a stane
Anger wis forged on the hairt’s anvil

The wren on the tree kens nocht o thon
She kens anely the warmth o sun
The needs o her cheepers inno the nest
Wids, air, win, an the dappled grun


9.Three Owersetts in Scots o Poems bi Charles Simic

Stane

Gae inbye a stane
Thon wad be my wye
Let some ither body becam a doo
Or gurr wi a tiger’s teeth
I’m blythe tae be a stane

Frae the ootside the stane’s a riddle
Naebody kens foo tae answer it
Yet inbye it maun be cweel an quate
Even tho the coo steps on’t full wecht
Even tho a bairn haives it inno a burn
The stane sinks, slaw, nae geein itsel
Tae the burn’s foun
Far the fishies cam tae chap on it
An lippen

I hae seen spirks flee oot
Fin twa stanes are rubbit
Sae mebbe it’s nae derk inbye efter aa
Mebbe there’s a meen sheenin
Frae somewye, as tho ahin a knowe
Jist eneuch tae makk oot
The eildritch screivins, the charts o starnies
On the was inbye


Twa Dugs

An auld dug feart o his ain shadda
In some Suddron toun
The tale telt me bi a wumman gaun blin
Ae fine simmer evenin
As the shaddas war creepin
Ooto the New Hampshire wids
A lang street wi jist a worriet dug
An a pair o stoorie chukkens
An aa thon sun stounin doon
In thon nameless Suddron toun.

It gart me myne the Germans merchin
By oor hoose in 1944
The wye aabody stood on the pavement
Watchin them ooto the neuk o the ee
The yird shakkin, daith gaun by…
A wee fite dug ran onno the street
An got taiglit wi the sodjers’ feet
A kick gart him flee as if he’d wings.
Thon’s fit I keep seein
Nicht comin doon. A dug wi wings.


Ferlies Need Me

Toun o puirly-lued cheers, baffies, fryin-pans
I’m breengin back tae ye
Passin ilkie car on the wye
Searchin fur ye wi ma bricht heidlichts
Doon the teem, derk streets

O ye hairtless fowk fa canna wyte
Tae gyang tae the beach the morn’s mornin
Fit aboot the blaik an fite photie o yer forebears
Yer leavin ahin?
Fit aboot the keekin glaisses, pottit plants an coat hingers?

Deid alarm clock, teem birde cage, pianie I niver play
I’ll be yer waiter the nicht
Ready tae takk yer order
An ye’ll be ma eildritch denner guests
Ilkie ane wi a tale tae tell


10. An Owersett o Chandra Candiani’s Untitled Poem in ‘Tomorrow’s Moon’ (Aruna Pub)

I wad like tae ken foo tae screive
A letter tae the wids
Tae a burn or
Tae a quality o the lift
Nae a letter o human dowieness
Or angert reproaches
Bit paper that flooers
Inno gems draain bluid
Risks o heich tide
Blin caller lift or clouds
Wioot win foo I wad like
A leid o pine preens
O resin an floatin
Troot a cloudy
Leid that follaes
The merest thochtie o cheenge


11.Owersetts in Scots o a wheen o Basho’s Haiku (1644-1694)

(Karumi- lightness of touch- one-ness with nature)

Gin I’d the knack
I’d sing like
Gean flooers faain

Yalla rose petals
Thunner
A linn

Weety June
Lang hair, face
Peely-wally

Winter doonpish
Even the puggie
Needs a watterpruif

Meen-dichtit buss-clover
Wheesht….in the neist chaumer
Snoring hoors

Lanelineses
Caged girse-lowper hingin
Frae the waa
Friens pairt foraye
Wud geese
Tint in cloud

Dyew-draps
Foo better wash awa
Warld’s stoor?

Frae the hairt
O the sweet peony
A boozie bee

Simmer girse
Aa that bides
O sodjers’ dreams


12.Centipede

A centipede bidin in Crail
Tuik a notion tae gyang tae Kintail
She wis hit bi a train
Sae the trip wis in vain
As hauf o her’s stuck tae the rail


13. Barren

The bairnless wumman’s bairnies
Wad luve tae climm the stairs
Frae naethinness tae nipple
Tae sookle human wares

An whyles a cradle’s stappit
Wi a littlin cam unsocht
Intae a warld o sorras
Far its wee needs are nocht


14.Love Story

You ‘n me
Doon bi the sea
Side bi side
Watchin the tide
Nae seagulls


15. May Time 2

A bairn’s in the burn wi his breeks rowed up
He’s plowterin amang the steens
The yowes are pechin aneth the sun
An the pink’s on the flooerin geans

An aathin’s swack an brierin syne
An swippert’s a lamb new-born
The calfie rugs at the dreepin teat
An green lies the infant corn


16.The Burn (1)

Yestreen yowes climmed the girssy stair
O flooers an stanes, a douce-like brae
An feasted on the clovers’ bree
Aside the burnie’s roundelay

Their dinin room, a mornin’s wark,
Wis wheeched awa by levellin scythe
A muckle gap in Natur’s mids
A swatch rived frae the side o Life

The nettles staun lamentin roon
The bauld, teem stibble at their breist
The mavis in her specklit goun
Winners fit weird’ll happen neist

For aa maun boo afore the blade
That tummles man an everglade
The gorblie cheepin in the rain
Flees bit a Sizzen, syne is gaen


17.The Burn (2)
Yowes are croppin the girse bi the ley o the brig
Their wechty oo is weety wi sappy smirr
Their lantern jaas crunch sidiewyes in their mous
Up on the road the antrin car wheels birr

Hyne ower the loch ae Ben stauns happed in sun
Favoured alane far the clouds hae pairtit air
Gowden-green mangst the derk, onchancy storms
The wids that hap its shouders are fey-like fair

Ahin it the gluggerin watter’s clatterin doon
Plain an purl in its Arran pattern puil
Slokin soun, wi the yowes fur an audience
Like seven wee lassies, first day at the skweel

The win is ruggin a toosht o oo in the fence
Docken an buttercup swey back an fore
Ferns bi the dyke wyve doon like a Raja’s fan
A draught is blawin frae Heiven’s open door


18. The Burn 3

The burn comes breengin doon aneth the brig
Aik boughs jink furlie-orum ower the watter
The foggy stanes gar bubbles blink an pop
Alang the shady banks the ferns chitter

The rasps are still fite flooeries on the buss
The foxglove bunnets hing, disjaskit, mauve
A swiftie skytes awa alang the girse
Tae feed her gorblies is an on-gaun tcyauve

The sklaik o birds I takk tae be delicht
Mirrored inbye masel, like Bens on Loch
I staun an sup ma fill o Natur’s braas
Like a hett drouthy cuddy at a troch

The lift is fu o bird-sang. Clouds o rain
Spirk spirk throw simmer air, as smaa’s a preen
The burn rins neth the brig’s wide-gapit mou
This meenit, tree, burn, fern an I are ane.


19. Callander Oasis

On the train frae hame tae awa, I’m teem as a cowpit pot
A trauchelt hull o banes, breengin throwe space

Callander is a lush hiatus, a wee oasis
O a gairden, ooto the hugger-mugger o life

A cat sprauchles, macho man, cat-Rambo
Barin its furry breast an crotch tae the warld

This gairden’s like enterin Wonderlan
A bawd micht mask his tea amang the cups
Roon a table set wi seats for Arthur’s knights
Should they, o a suddenty, step in frae a bus

Flooers ream in linns doon waas, dykes, Chinee urns
An ay oweraa the hinneyed hum o bees

Kerplunk! A lowpin paddock pairts a puil
The sun butters the lift like a hett scone
Aneth the roses, dragons scrat their dowp


20.The Wars in the Roses
Spencer House & Radcliffe House are two beehives in the garden of Callander’s Bookshop

Twa infant queens growe fat on Royal jeely
Syne baith creep oot tae claim their richtfu place
Heid o the hive’s a job fur jist ae leader

Noo they maun duel tae the daith tae seize the croun
Their battle skreich’s fine- tunin is G sharp

Ridin the bosky wins o bluffertin June
Ae queen, wi killin barb concludes the regicide

Noo she maun mell wi 15 drones or mair,
An orgy that is wirthy o a Borgia

Syne it’s a chermed life, she’s fed an petted
Until her eggs dry up, an syne they turn,
Her dothers, smore her wi their bizzin bosies
A matricide, fur Natur tholes nae failure


21. Nellfield Kirkyaird

Horse chestnut leaves are dwinin in the heat
Atap a shady yew a doo curmurs
Here, a commercial traiveller’s snubbed his case
Near smored aneth a swatch o sticky burrs

A great tobaccy baron’s turned tae aisse
The haimmer’s drappit on an auctioneer
A butcher’s heid is piddlit on bi cats
A granite angel’s booed ower tins o beer
Teemed bi a dosser, dowie, doon-at-heel
Like kirkyaird’s tenants, a forgotten chiel


22. Frae Sraìd na Banrighinn tae Oban

The wannerin willies smore the sheugh
The hooses smore the lan
The high rise toors o Glesga toun
Rise up on ilkie haun

A windae, thirteen storeys heich
Veranda, grim an roosty
Is hung wi dryin tools an draaers
Sae bricht they’d blin Carnoustie

Fower coffin dodgers on a spree
Crack open the champagne
An scott awa at salmon, sliced
Tap scran…bit on a train?

A baldie wi a shovel beard
Clarts anti-midgie lotion
Ower his bare heid an hairy hochs
Like some witch-doctor potion

Blink bonnie loch atween the birks
Sic winners hurtle by us
Frae Glesga up tae Oban’s port
Like picturs frae Parnassus


23.Pipe Band, Oban

A shilpit wee craitur, chooks like a bubblyjock is giein it laldy
A wee German laddie is hoochin an dauncin the ghillie mhor
In a skyrie yalla t-shirt an Bermuda shorts

In plastic crocs an blin-fite knottit dreidlocks
A wee quine aa her lane, makks up daunce steps in front o Semi-Chem

Pipe major is a capercaillie struttin afore his hens
His digi tunin box, seems tae be takkin the bagpipes temperatures

The drummer is beeriet ahin his instrument
Furlin an duntin his furry drumsticks

A Sicilian godfaither, wechtit wi bling an gowd crosses
Stubs his tabbies oot in a civic flooer box
An aa the whyle the sea maws screech Hosannahs


24.The Puffin

I’m a dapper wee craitur, I waddle an squawk
On You Tube an Face Book ye’ll see
Ma neb like a wattergaw, face like a ghaist
I’m the clown o the sea birds, that’s me!