Death Of A Pope (30 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.Lean Pickins

Twa craas sat on a wrunkled bough,
Teuch as a lang-shanked falconer's airm,
Scraunin the widlans ben the haar
Fur fur or feather cam tae hairm.

A mither hoolet's cowpit bairn
Recycled makks a tasty meal -
Some like the fish a heich prelate
Etts frae the ocean's reamin creel.

In hyne Tibet, the buzzards skreich
Ower a sky beerial. The daith
0 breet or man is yielded up
As meat, sae leevin can draw braith.

The yirdly cloots o flesh an bluid
Faist dwine fin speerit weirs awa;
Necessity lends ugsome wyes
Tae cleuks o fowk or hoodie craa.


2.Deid Leid

It's forty year granmither's laired in yird,
Wirm-maet; her bonnie smile's noo skin an been. `
'Ye hae her sweirity, her lugs, her verra een, '
Still I am telt.
Heirskip can ne'r be gien awa nur selt.

I likit the calm sooch o Latin verbs:
Their rules held stinch, as strang as roads that rang
Wi chariots, shelts' hooves an sodjers' shoon.
Foo Lang thon reets ran back frae wirds aroon!
`It's a deid leid, ' quo faither. 'An nae gweed
Can cam o hunkerin roon a cauld hairth's rikk;
Yon's fossil wirds nae livin sowel can spikk.
Sic wirds sit wersh an tasteless in the moo.
There's better things tae stap ahin yer broo.'

They gart me tchauve insteid wi geometry,
Wi vulgar fractions, trigonometry,
Tae senators an satyrs wave ta-ta -
Gied me the dry boak, fur Elysia.


3.Ae Meditation An owersett frae Marcus Aurelius

`Aa things are a mixter-maxter, a haly bond jynes them;
There is feint the ferlie iver stauns alane.
Aathin's linkit, aathin wirks thegither tae gie form tae the ae Universe.
The Warld order is: Ane frae monie, aa in Ane,

Rinnin throwe aa, Aa are ane, aa Law is Me, aa Truith is Ane...
Like lichtnin, ilkie pikk o maitter mirls inno the Aybydan Kirn,
Like lichtnin, ilkie maik o Causation reforms inno the Aybydan Rizzen;
Like lichtnin, the myndin o aathin's beeriet in the Howe o Eternity.'


4.Multi-Cultural Scotland's for me! Tune: Black Velvet Band.

We're daein Devali this mornin,
A lesson on ither fowk's lans,
A tale aboot monkeys an demons,
Makkin caunles an peintin oor hauns.

Mohammed sits by me at denner;
He'll nae ett beefburgers or ham,
Bit vegg maun be gweed fur yer noddle
Fur they're clivver the bairns o Islam

A shrine's dowpit doon in the classie,
Wi incense an flooer an bell,
Richt bonnie an quaet...fin I'm aulder
I think I'll be Buddhist masel

In Perth an Kinross an North Lanark,
Roon Glesga an Crieff an New Deer,
Hogmanay is jist ower fin we're makkin
Dragon masks fur the Chinese New Year.

Sae here's tae Yom Kippur an Ramadan,
May oor different tribes aa agree,
May tolerance win abeen fechtin
Multi-cultural Scotlan's fur me!


5.An Eco-Plea

The warld's broon veins raxx tae the lift
Tae sook the sun inside her;
Rain-wechtit clouds drap dyew doonby,
Yird's maet an drink provider.

Aa this, an benison o Spring,
Tae hap the braes wi flooers,
Tae stap wi birdsang an delicht
Wee isles o city bouers!

Ten meenits stuck in traffic birr
I watched a bank o moss,
It's jizzen bed o crocus-heids
Smored bi torn-packaged soss.

I dreamt that an Apocalypse
Cam wheechin ben thon street
An yarked thon midden o a neuk
Back tae an orchard sweet.

I wish that dragons micht flee back
Quick, fur it's weirin late,
An cast their auld enchantments roon
Sae fowk micht venerate
The warld we scarifee an scoor
Frae knowes tae run-doon scheme,
Sae bairnikies micht ken again
The glamourie o green.


6.Legacies

O late, ma body's becam
A shrine fur warts, baith secular an reeligious;
Ma oxters are orchards o aik-aipples
Legacies frae Cromwell's crop?
Mebbe they cam frae Flanders...
I hae the verra marra o a wart
Frae the neb o a bodach peintit bi Bosch hissel.

Adrift in this Ship o Feels,
Edgin nearer the rocks at ilkie shoogle,
I cudgel ma hams aboot this knobbily matter:
Should I zap them wi taed's bluid?
Clart them wi snail's bricht slivers?
Angels, I suspect, hae hidden afflictions
Corns aneth the wings, carbuncles unner the goun.

Mebbe Lucifer, on his dowp-singed doondrap
Saw, tae his mortification, ilkie scrat an scab
Transmogrifee in the birsslin lowes o Hell,
Bubble up broon like taed bree
Witch-prickers merks, sproot frae his fated hide.


7.A Granite Welcome Tune: Geordie Weir

Gin ye've come for learnin, we're ready tae skweel
Ye in medicine or law, an computin as weel;
Frae deserts tae up far the Greenlan whale sings,
Fowk will traivel the oceans tae study at Kings.

Mony ships seek oor herbour, their needs they are met
In a Tolerance Zone, keepin pros frae the yett -
O respectable bodies faa keep the streets clean,
We've an answer fur aathin in Auld Aiberdeen!

We spikk oor ain spikk, we gie welcome tae aa
Come tae trade or tae dauchle, or cheer the fitbaa -
Bit if yer team's lossin, tho yer bluid it should byle,
Keep yer neives tae yersel or we'll clap ye in jyle!

We are the descendents o the Caledonii
If Rome cudna tame us, then neither can ye -
Gin ye've come in peace, we are leal tae a frien,
Gin ye've come tae quarrel, best leave us aleen!

Sae welcome incomer, oor toun's at yer feet;
Bon Accord is oor motto, a gweed wye tae greet
The gangrel bodies washed in bi the tide
Tae the Grampian port wi the sea on its side.


8.Luggin in at a Coffee Shop

My class hae failed their target goals again...
Kylie an Neil are stuck on level D.
Attainment levels fair nose-dived this month.
My wecht reduction programme's gaen tae pot;
Last wikk I ett organic veg fur lunch,
Bit elephantine keech! The cost, ower much!

This wikk, I'll try the Atkins. Efter aa,
We're carnivores. Bit will my hairt valves clog?
They shouldnae, since I wauk tae schule an back (
Although I worry noo aboot the smog) .
I see the local press hae snapped thon schule
That's aywis in the heidlines - plantin trees

Inventin things or fechtin lung disease
While we tchauve on, three RS, nae recognition
An yon new loon fa's middle name's sedition.
His files makk Al Capone luik apostolic.
Pass the cream...it cowps oot frae the joog, a gowden ream -
Jist calories..I'm nae an alcoholic -
Mebbe I should retire. Bit I wad pine
Wi naethin tae assess at lowsin time!


9.Ghaists o Simmer Frocks

Ma mither's simmer frocks, huffed in the loft aa winter;
Claiked aboot picnics, July shoppin sprees,
Dreamt aboot special occasions,
Waukin in sinsheen throw Glen Gairn's saftsome breeze.
Fur the luv o linen, cotton, polyester, silk
Ma mither studied the lear o catalogues,
Stalked shop aisles on the scent o a perfeck buy,
Collectin frocks like lovers.

Efter she deid, naebody murned or lued them,
Naebody smeethed their faulds or darned their teirs;
Ma mither's frocks grat buttons o grue an wae,
Tint aa sense o shape; their lirks grew waur

The scaffie hurled them aff tae a dreich demise.
They haunt me noo, thon textile ghaists o simmer,
Their hangers teem. Nae flesh tae gar them sweesh -
They hugged her like ma faither niver did.


10.Flees on a Global Bap

Heid-huntit bi ile-keelies on the scran
Fur engineers, my son flew hyne awa,
Sent hame a banknote frae a furreign kintra.
Its name is Azerbaijan.

The banknote is siller an blue;
It is faced wi an ile rig an relatit machinery.
I hae luiked it up on the wab.
It wis pairt o the Great Silk Route,
It has minarets an mosquitoes,
It trades in cement an baccy, petrochemicals an tea,
It hairsts caviar frae the wersh-waved Caspian Sea.
A hunner billion coggies o its ile
Wyte tae be plumbed aneth its fremmit stars.
Medes, Persians, Romans, Turks,
Hae crossed its howes,
Suppit its vodka, etten its spiced meats;

It has weathered Stalin's purges,
Reivin, pollution an wars.
Its singer-bards, the ashugs, croon fey sangs,
Strummin the kobutz in the Turkish mainner;
A lan o tigers, wins, an lowp-the-dyke gazelles.

This banknote gies aff neither souns nor smells.
Is it safe tae wauk its bywyes efter dark?
Is the watter clean tae drink, is the workplace frienly?
He says fin he drinks vodka in their bars
Sittin alangside Rashid, Tojo, Kamran,
They think he's Georgian, dinna ken he's Scots.

This lan, this Azerbaijan, is it a cannie bield fur aa incomers?
Are they welcomed in this airt? A mither worries.
Cockin ahin twa Moslems on the bus
In Aiberdeen, I show them their richt stop
Flees on the global bap we caa the Warld.


11.Lassie dichtin her Feet: After Degas, 'Woman Drying her Feet',1886, Louvre, Paris

Teddies cock on her duvet, fur-bound sisters.
The bedclaes yoam wi warmth; the quine new-risen's
Paddin ben tae the shooer, its weety mist
Treetlin doon the waa in lichtenin runnels.
Conditioner, shampoo, smellies,
Like the three wise men,
Watchin the Ablution o the Crannies.

The chaumer's minimalist;
Nae muckle press grinds timmer feet in the rug.
This is a warld o steel an synthetic gless,
Hoovered twice a day; nae antrin lick, spit, dicht -
This lassie's clean's a fussle, deintie in her mainners,
Wirks in an office block far nae stoor bides.

Laddette's nicht-oot photies cock aside the fruit
Tastefu laid oot in a Japan cheena bowl.
Friens phone her daily. Here's nae rage, nae grease,
Nae male heid-bummery;

Three heich fite lilies, dowpit in a neuk
Alangside tea lichts, signifee, `Gie's Peace'.
Nae duntit beer tins scale alang the fleer,
Nae tabbie dowps are rammed inno the saucer,
Naebody kens the neebors.

Boyfriens veesit - passin satellites
Nae bairn skirls fur the briest, wi rinny snoot.
The lassie is dryin her taes in the warmth o her ain Name.
Her feet curl up tae meet the towel's caress,
Her weet hair hings, rats' sookins, roon her shooder;
She is alane in a warld o comfort an pooder,
Naethin ayont the need tae be clean an dry
Like a cat booed ower its pelt, its pink tongue lickin
Awa the yird o the day.

Her sma briests press on the hard fite meens o her knees
Her back is booed, a wattergaw arcing unner the sunlicht streamin in.


12.In the Box: After 'La Loge', Renoir, Courtauld Institute Galleries,1874

The pair are dressed tae the nines,
Her heid's at saxes and seivens;
Foo dis he glower like a gype at the stage ablow?
She is weirin her hair bund up,
She his dyed it 'Autumn Glow';
Her jewels (his ane luve-tokens)
Skinklin on lug on airm, are oot on show.

Like Heivenly pears her breists rise in their cleavage;
Her chikks are reid as geans, her moo's a bow -

He hisna keeked at her aince.
The aipple of her ee
Is watchin forbidden fruit...
Efter she tuik an oor tae press his suit!


13.The Famous Artist: In Memoriam, Bill Gibb

I met a famous artist aince, ower supper wi twa friens
Afore he grew illustrious. We dined upon baked beans.
Wi toonser/teuchter prejudice, I thocht my claes mair chic,
My Aiberdonian haute couture mair snazzy an unique.
I pyed him nae attention fin he ran tae catch the bus -
Ye dinna think a genius wad be ordnar like us!


14.Paris via the Broch

It's forty year sin last I saw his face:
A weddin guest. St Valentine's the day,
At the tap table, three seats frae my place,
A sculptor's idyll formed frae mortal clay.

I kent his origins: a lan o rock,
Aybydan seas that maen neth a blae sun;
Ootower the glimmrin speens an table spikk
He sat, temptation ye could shipwrack on.
His een war blue forget-me-nots that shone
An, fin he smiled, the chaumer wheeched aroon.
His hair wis blaik's the eelash o a fawn -
Young artist frae a satty fisher toon.

The bonnie quine fa hung upon his airm
She lippent wi her hairt, nae wi her lug;
He wis her hinney..see her glances heeze -
He wis the flooer Luv's gentle breezes shug

I kent then that I'd ne'r clap een again
Upon his marra. Lush green years turn bauld
An sere - bit like thon auncient tale o Troy
His luiks hae niver cheenged, though I've grown auld.

Wad I hae wearied o him had we gane
Frae guests tae lovers? Wad the brakkfaist plate
0 Time hae turned a love-feast tae a crumb?
The alchemy o Age, cheenge luv tae hate?

I'll niver ken. Inbye, he'll aywis be
My Paris frae the Broch, untouched bi years;
It's forty year sin last I saw his face,
His bonnie face can meeve me yet tae tears.


15.Seeven Bairn Rhymes Genghis Khan

My name is Genghis Khan,
I drive a cooncil van;
I've biceps like Attila the Hun
an a chin like Desperate Dan.

Wheel out yer rubbish bins,
stale buns an fooshtie tins,
I ken each route tae the skips aboot;
I'm the King o the oots an ins.


16.A Huddrie Dug

A huddrie dug wi yirdy paws cam bowfin on the bus -
He didnae pye a fare at aa...he didnae hae a purse;

He clartit dubs upon the seat, a biscuit an a been.
He telt his maister he'd be late bi howlin tae the meen -
'I'm aff tae visit relatives, ma aunties Chris an Jean'
He bowfed, an added `Ane's a Peke, the tither's a Great Dane,
An he gaed breengin aff the bus an bowfed alang the lane.


17.The Yokie Yowe

Fin Jess the yowe turns yokie, she gies her oo a yark,
An wi her knittin needles it turns intae a sark.

Her dowp's noo baby's bootees, her lugs, a grocer's tie;
Her kyte is a tea cosy, an it's hingin oot to dry.


18.Copernicus Refuted

The porthole quo,
'The warld is roon, tho ye luik near or far'.
`It's nae, ' the windae argyed back:
`Yer wrang ma frien. It's squar.'

`It isnae, ' cried the wummly worm,
'It's curvy as a cat.'
The ironin boord leuch...`Yer as gyte.
The universe is flat.'


19.Tooth Fairy: the myth exploded

Far dae dentists sen yer teeth?
Tae fix the queen's tiaras!
An fit's left ower they post awa
as bullets tae the Paras


20.Moo

There wis a wee coo lowped ower the meen:
The black holes are her turds;
A sheetin star gaed 'Bang' in her lug
An her udder inventit curds.


21.Spurgie

A spurgie frae the Barras,
gaed aff tae busk in Spain,
Bit couldna spikk the lingo
an he jist flew hame again -

Sae if ye hear him cheepin, jist speir
`Hoo are ye's gaun? '
An gin ye hae a take-away,
haive him a daud o scran.


22.Familiar

My cat has fyky cleuks.
He sprauchles alang the sofa,
Dwaums an purrs.

At suppertime, he's eein up ma denner.
He cowps ma gless, fechts wi his ain tail.
The morn he'll be transmogrifeed inno the meen,
Micht turn hissel inno a scythe tae cut the girsse,

While I, astride ma besom, scoor the lift fur wattergaws,
Meteorites, an ither whigmaleeries
Yon wis nae sheetin star ye glisked yestreen!


23.The Bulb

The mids o Februar, atween the makkin o Chinee dragons
(Scotlan's a multi-cultural experience)
An the pastin o Valentines,
The class maun study bulbs

Efter their Wednesday music an computin.
A bulb's dowped on a paper abune the table
Its reets like pipes ryped frae the yird's intimmers.

I scrat its thrapple, peel a skein o skin;
It disnae gyang 'Ye bam.' It disnae sweir.
It's cocking there, a crocus, keepin its ain coonsel.

The pupils watch me teir layers frae its flanks;
Its sides leak soorness. 'Noo, it winna growe, '
A bairn says. It's a coracle o Spring,
Its boddom holed, sinkin atween twa banks.


24.By Appyntment

We check oor diaries, synchronise oor dates;
Fin we're baith free, we'll meet,
Mither an dother, here on Catch-up Street.

7/24 yer needit fin they're wee -
Noo it's the antrin oor afore their tea;

Gin clocks ran widdershins, `twidna be richt;
Aa eggies hatch, an growin wings, takk flicht.


25.Stanza 2005: by Sheena Blackball: tune Drumdelgie

The Stanza poetry festival is kent baith far an wide
Tae punters at St Andrew's, fowk local an Stateside;
Sae bring alang yer Visa, yer Maistercaird or Switch -
It's nae that bards are beggars, bit nane o them are rich

Neruda's risen frae the mools - be sure an book yer seat -
A radish has a soul, an this Tom Pow'll lat ye meet;
I'm telt there's Ghaists at Cockcrow, bit gin thon's ower late,
Consumin Passions ower a pint pits versies on a plate.

There's jugglers an wird circuses, buik launches an Tai Chi -
An gin yer heid is stappt wi wirds...jist glower at the sea;
Bit ye micht miss the Jazz Howl, like banshee in its goun,
Or Byron's wirks wad cherm the verra corpses frae a tomb.

There's Love Bites roon at Abbey Street, libidos fur tae please,
An Larry Butler's Nibbles sharin Renga an split peas;
Gin ye speir 'Whit's fur Efters? ', takk feedback sheet an pen,
An gin it's gweed the SAC will fund it as again!


26.The Fleein Scotsman

The haar his happit hauf the toun,
Craas skreich throw wraiths o gray,
The hingin luggit daffs boo doon,
Spring's here, a thochtie blae.

The ghaistly lums, an shuntin yairds,
Staun dowie ben the rails;
Nae cheerie waves tae wag ye aff -
The Dee is snailies' trails

That glent an glimmer neth the brig,
An eildritch skein o rikk;
Till wi a yark, by scheme an park,
Train breenges, rick-ma tick,

A lichtenin flash's eflerstang.
Mist furlin roon its heid,
It's ramstam inno the unkent
A metal wheech o speed.

Like jizzen-bed, like Life itsel,
Ye ken the trip'll end
Bit yet, wi hopefu een ye watch
New vistas meet each bend;

There's nane ken fit a day'll bring
Tae pleisur or affricht
The Fleein Scotsman timmers on,
Nocht's certain, bit the nicht.


27.Granny's Monthly Veesits

Granny's doon frae the hills the day!
Cancel each invitation!
Granny's doon frae the hills the day!
Auld spikk fur menstruation.

I'm gled I'm ower wi the monthly tyauve:
the hormones in a hotter,
A wyme in knots, a stoonin heid,
the scutter, the pain, the sotter.

The gledsome bit aboot growin auld?
I can state wi certainty -
Fin gran cams doon frae the hills the day,
she'll nae be veesitin me!


28.At the Lido, Venice

Blae haar hings ower the wastes o san -
An eildritch ither-wardly lan.
Teem biggins, gap-moued ben the stran
Bi Adriatic Sea.

Ooto the mist creep weety waves,
Wi smush o shells frae wattery graves -
Fusperin o lang-drooned ships an slaves
In Adriatic Sea.

Nae Byron rides at skelpin pace
Ben dunes braid tides will sune erase,
Nae bairnies lauch...nae human face
Bi Adriatic Sea.

Twa boats lie dauchlin...nane tae buy
An oor's fee. Nae sea-mawe's cry,
A Titan's braith, rowes ben the sky
Bi Adriatic Sea.

As I wauk forrit, aa unseen,
The watter smeethes merks o ma sheen; `
Twill seem as tho I'd niver been
Bi Adriatic Sea.


29.Queen o the Toozlin Trade Gondolas were often used as floating brothels.

A gondola slippit aneth a brig
It cairriet a peintit hoor
Weel versed in the airt o love's sweet sins
In passin a stolen oor.

Her mask wis white as ivory,
Her cat-slit een war jade,
Twa strings o pearls hung ower her briests -
Queen o the toozlin trade

A thoosan years upon her back,
She's gart her hurdies lowp -
Her masks are mony, Jezebel,
Bare briests an randy dowp.


30.Twa Touns: Venice / Aberdeen

Canaletto, cannaloni, pizza, masks and macaroni;
Boaties cairry fowk aroon this auld-farrant watter-toun.

Birr o bus on granite steen, traffic-cloggit Aiberdeen -
Stovies, rowies, Cullen skink. Tarry tea or drams tae drink.

Towrists, peinters, gondoliers; biggins rotted bi the years.
Dungeons, Doges, sliddery stairs; doos that skitter ower the squares.

Aawye trees an flooers in bloom. See auld biggins? Caa them doon! Tolbooth, Provost, Castlegate..Queen wheechs throw wi Heids o State.

Harlequin an Columbine; orchestra an plastic vine; Octopus....Rialto brig. Bells that chime far beggars prig

On ilkie lum a seagull skirls. Sna in April soughs an birls.
Dis it daunt us? Na, indeed! Aiberdonians.... hardy breed.

Venice may be warm an hat, bit there's floods at ilkie yett;
Tho it's hyne frae Don an Dee, baith are merried tae the sea!
Their tides, tae, bring licht an shade - storm betimes, bit muckle trade.