Diminishing Lines (17 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.Visibility moderate

A ship sails by wi sides o steel
Torn pennants flee ower sans surreal

The lift is alien. Nae birds flee
Ben this deserted territory.

Bit gin the waves should rise an swey
The Heivens cheenge fae blue tae blae
The mirror crack, the dream growe real
Fit monsters micht the Deep reveal?


2.Bon Accord

Fae distant ports, the warld's bree
Sweels roon oor sturdy herbour quey.
Doos strut aroon oor Norlan toun,
Far lawyers stride in inky goun,
An seagulls skirl an birl ootbye,
Winged citizen's o evenin sky.

We are gweed hosts, as we hae been
Fur centuries in Aiberdeen
Tae politicians, priests, prelates
An mony wirthy heids o state
Like Kings we treat baith loon an Lord
Oor City's motto? Bon Accord!


3.Brig o Balgownie (1)

Brig o Balgownie, stoot's thy waa,
Lang shaddas o heich trees doonfaa,
Onno the wrunkled watter's broo,
Roon banks lulled bi the Don's balloo.

Abeen its archwye, cauld an black,
It cairries cobbles on its back,
Far traivellers dauchle, watchin dyeuks
In convoy, sail fur shady neuks.

Snaadrifts o clouds slide saft thegither
In archetypal simmer weather
Far Don tynes its identity
In the braid quicksans o the sea


4.Brig 0 Balgownie (2) Sheela-na-gig: Celtic female fertility symbol

The arch, reflected, shows Sheela-na-gig
Flauntin her braid fertility, as if tae prig
Mankind tae breech the portals o the brig.

Blue kingfisher flees faist, his hame tae bigg,
While dugs stravaig tae sniff an pee unchyned
Mangst reeds that doos micht chuse their reefs tae thigg.

The God o watter looed this bonnie rig,
Fin he howked oot a bed tae haud the Don,
Flanked bi the shady willow's dreepin twig
Ower yon Veenetian gondola, the swan


5.Affirmation

I will spikk in ma first-born leid,
Foonert, ferfochan, fey
It is safe an kent,
The lowe is aywis lichtit in the hearth,
Drookit, dowie, dreich

I will spikk in ma first-born leid,
Far short socks hing on the line,
Far the meen an the eirde
Are roon an fixed an hale,
Sleekit, slystery, stoory, stammygaster

I will spikk in ma first-born leid
Glawy, glysterie, gomeril
Afore the buik cam
An the buckled skweelbag
An the pen that aywis blots
Afore I learned that silence wis ma frien.


6.Latchy

Fin meetin fowk first aff,
Ma Scots sel's aywis latchy.

It's a fey wee body.
It winna enter a hoose
Till the hearth's bleezin
The kettle's bylin
It's gotten tae ken the fowk
Coo's tail skelpin,
Niver lifts till last!

Ma English sel goose-steps
Like a Nazi stort-trooper
A caul jeel wauchts fae't
Like an Arctic berg.


7.Waas

I bigg poems, pages, whyles hale buiks
Ooto roch wirds howked fae ma fowk's spikk,
Ooto the dubs an glaur, the tcyauve an plyter
0 their life's darg. A warld that nippit their thochts,
That clippit their wirds like oo.

Wirds war cairdit threids, fae ma deid gran, minnie's moo.
She wis the roch waa o a cauld byre,
A bield, a cyarn o rocks.
My faither wis the grit, held it thegither
Agin the dreich onchancy warld o cheenge.

I hae taen their waa. I hae smeethed ae side o't
Made o't a genteel, English side, that's freemit.
Gib ye scrat aff the peint, wud bogies roar aneth it
The lowe o dispossession roars in the teem range.


8.Peppercorn

Peppercorn, peppercorn, fae hae ye been?
I've been tae Asia, that's far I hae been.
Peppercorn, peppercorn, fit did ye there?
I touched up a boodle on Tienamen Square.


9.Secrets

An aa thon years I thocht ye gaed tae Perth
Fur genteel holidays, takkin the air wi bankers,
Grocers, solitary widows like yersel,
Strollin the streets, a slider in yer haun,
Listenin in ceevic park tae brash brass band.

Ooto the blue the truth's bin run tae earth...
Nae Perth bit en suite in the Hoose o Daviot.
A fey hotel, an inmate's view o Bedlam.
Oh stigma, oh stigmata. Oh persona non grata.
Did siller makk insanity seem sweeter?
Fur entertainment, veesits tae the theatre
Electric shocks tae jolt ye back tae kilter.

Did siller takk the sting ooto the shame?
Ye'd nae hae tholed the rammy o a ward
Far ithers wanner oot an in o sanity.
Ye missed oot there..there's comfort in the kennin
Yer nae the anely soor cheese in the pantry.

Asylum. Bywird fur a haley haven.
A sanctuary. A safety and a bield,
Fae village sklaik wi aa its slichts an slanders,
The Hoose o Daviot wad bin a shield
Wi a revolivin door, on hinges hung,
Far minds wheeled roon that whyles cam unsprung.

An easy fleggit vratch, my memory hauds
Ye coontin aff lang years wi lanely crosses.
Foo weel they dug a pit wi gleamin spaads,
Tae hap yer hurts wi sods, like tainted losses.

Yet, if upon yer flesh ye'd worn yer wounds
The balm o sympathy wad ken nae bounds.
Did Buttons bring strange potions on his tray?
Yer grave is green. The blaik yird winna say.
Yer public face wis private. Burnished braisse
We'll keep' like thon. The lave is blawn aisse.


10.The Yalta Yeitie Inspired by the singing of Nichole Robertson 12/11/2000

Doon the centuries daunced the sang,
Prood an fine like a slaw Strathspey,
Like flooers o the rodden, licht an fine,
The blossom afore the crammosie.

Whyles, twid reest in the antrin throat
That gart it craik like a corbie's crwa
Coorse for a bonnie tune like thon
Tae be malagaroosed an it sae braw

Precious a culture's flickerin flame
Kinnelt an kept bi the traivellers' kin
Cannie thon hauns that cupped it roon
Shieldin a heirskip frae the win

On a nicht o starns in a Norlan toon
The gangrel tune fand a siller reest
Fin a gowden heidit quine steeped up
An lent thon sang baith braith an briest

Syne throw the howf in thon cauld airt
The past swept by on bleedin feet
For the sang wis cruel an the tale wis auld
O a bairn an its mither left tae greet

Ye micht hae heard a preen doonfaa
Fin sorra chappit the door agee
As the singer jyned wi the quine langsyne
Tae gie her dule tae Eternity

Nae a note nor a wird she chynged
Nor bi artifice, sikk tae smore't
Up frae the foun o a quine thon nicht
Hairtbrakk itsel tuik wing an soared


11.Pantheist in a Hey Park

On simmer nichts, I'd herd the bairns like kye
Tae Waukmill wids, up tae the trinklin burn
Tae wash the stoons o day fae their foonert feet.

Village fires war lichtit, rikk furled skywird.
Craas, like doorstops perched on the antrin post,
There, far I'd sprauchle oot in the hey's saft bed.

Dreepin inno ma lug, the blaikie's notes,
Drapt frae the derkenin mou o the warm gloamin.
Win, like Vulcan's bellas, blawin the beech alive.
Here, thocht tuik flicht, jyned wi the soarin hawk


12.Winter's Wytin Roon the Neuk

Widdershins the breezes blaw,
Seety-feathered corbies craa,
Winter's wytin roon the neuk,
Shakks his wizzent powe an cleuk,
Dunts the antrin leaf awa...
Nicht growes langer. Berries faa.

Snifter-dichter in the sheugh,
Snaa'll be wi us seen eneuch,
Breets coor hungeret in their Names,
Beens'll powk throwe wastit wames.
Sae this day I gaither oo,
Catch the sunlicht on my broo,
Gaither warmth afore it's hid,
Stap the jar an steek the lid.


13.The Veesitor

Ben the nicht on frostit taes, an eildtrich carl trod the braes,
Shilpit shanks an hudderie hair, creepit fae a stormy lair.

His lang beard wis taiglit oo, cauld his shadda ben the dyew,
Sib tae starns an waukrife meen, shards o Sorra in his een.

In his pack, baith deep an wide, gleanins fae the kintraside,
He'll pit ferlies rich an rare....Putrifee their sweetness there.

Twa grey deerhounds lean an thin, ane afore him, ane ahin,
Lowp aroon his hirplin fit, the gangrel wi the kirkyaird smit.

Ben Balquidder, late yestreen, strippin leaf fae runkled gean,
Cam a carl I ken ower weel. Winter, wi his deidly creel.


14.A Brocher's Fareweel: for George Bruce 1909-2002 Tune: Tarwathie

Fareweel tae Auld Faithlie, adieu Mormond Hill,
Fur the virr o a Brocher is sattled an still.
He is takkin a voyage, grey oceans tae cross,
An the skreich o the scurries rings lood wi oor loss.

He will niver lie weel in a lang timmer sark,
He wis niver a Makar fa coddlit the Dark.
Kandinsky, Nijinski, Beethoven an Blake,
Ye've a fier comin ower will kittle yer claik.

Oh there's mony he'll ken o the fowk that bide there,
Fur it's thrang wi the ferlies o speerit an air,
Wi Pound, Yeats an Eliot weel he'll belang,
Tir nan Og's far the gowden an gracious are thrang.

The price that the ferryman takks is his braith,
Fin a life's at its lees syne richt kindly comes Daith,
An aff tae the Ian o Tam Linn he is gaen,
Like a wave - skelpin dolphin that's briestin the faem.

Fareweel tae Auld Faithlie, adieu Mormond Hill,
Fur the virr o a Brocher is sattled an still.
He is takkin a voyage, grey oceans tae cross,
An the skreich o the scurries rings lood wi oor loss.


15.The Merriege o Convenience On Sir William Quiller Orchardson's painting Mariage De Convenance

Auld men, like dry sticks, easy brakk
An should tak tent they dinna wed
Young wives, fur they will surely shakk
The siller fae their pooch, syne bed
Some young an lusty gallus loon
Will set the horns upon their croon.

A hoose, tho braw an bricht's a preen
Is unca dreary aa yer leen.


16.Pollockshields East

Koran. Ramadan,
Pollock, Pollock, Pollock, Pollock,
Ran-dan, breid n' jam,
Punjab keelies, Glesga Hindis,
New Delhis weirin wellies,
Lad-brokes, arti-chokes,
Turbanned weans, curried beans,
Quines in sahris, Arctic larries,
Wee swally, Shug an Ali,
Pollock Pollock Pollock Pollock
Pollockshields East,
Urdu's fand a reist,
train rinnin, tootin, stoppin,
Dev is here tae dae his shoppin,
train stoppin, hop in, hop in,
oh-mak-me-padme-rice
oh....mmmmmmmmmmm


17.In a Hindu Temple. Aarti Ceremony, dusk, Jaipur

Merrymatanzie o mochs, bricht dragonflees
Waucht ben a temple that's ableeze wi licht.
A merble pantheon o Ganesh, Siva, Kali, Hanuman,
Butterlamps glent bi alabaster shrines
Upheld by jewelled an scented sahri quines.

Gowd stoor fae Heiven's billion waukenin starns
Floats wi lotus petals on fower bowls.
Three Hindu priests wauk forrit tae the altar,
Heids bood like oxen yieldin tae the yoke.

Abeen their chantin, chink o tinklin bells,
Drawn curtains offer Lakshmi, Narayan
Twa deities, the Aarti gift o Licht.
The preists skirp ritual watter ower the fowk
Twa fat dreeps trickle, cruiked, ower my broo.

Inno the runnles o my Scottish chikk,
Into the cracks anither lan has cuttit.