English Poems, The Prophet Hen Of Leeds Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Prophet Hen of Leeds
The prophet hen of Leeds
Folk thought laid magic eggs
Instead a cunning witch
Pushed them back between her legs

Wrote on them ‘Christ is coming'
And charged people to see
The prophet hen of Leeds
Pop out her prophesy

How easily we're conned
By a convincing word
And easily sucked in
By what is plain absurd!



Coffee Enemas (who knew?)
A coffee enema is the injection of coffee into the rectum and colon via the anus, i.e., as an enema. Medical authorities consider this procedure to be unproven, rash, and potentially dangerous, and there is no medical, scientific evidence to support any positive health claim for this practice. A coffee enema can cause numerous serious side effects,

A man from the city of Panama
Took his coffee by means of an enema
Till his latte turned back with a terrible splat
Which brought more than one tear to his retina


Our Cat
Our cat's bum's like a pencil sharpener
When she purrs, she drools, but she's still a charmer
She kneads your chest like a lump of dough
And she stretches out like a baby-grow

She drags in mice with their heads bit off
Fur balls come when you hear her cough
We weren'ttoo pleased when she killed the robin
And played with its head like a cotton bobbin
But a cat's got to do what a cat's got to do
And birds and rodents are what most cats chew


Sushi
A girl with an elegant pussy
Sat down to a big plate of sushi
Before she could eat it
The pussycat beat it
And swallowed that sushi so juicy


Having a coffee with Leo
Was better than watching a Chaplin film, aged five
Was better than seeing a print by Salvador Dali
Was better than a slab of grilled salmon with rocket lettuce
Was better than listening to Joan Baezon a Sunday eve
Was better than walking the Champs-Élysées in Spring
I spoiled a beautiful friendship
By sending a Christmas card of rats instead of reindeer
And how could I know she wouldn't get the joke?


Have a Nice Day
See me? I'm your future, girl
Patched up dreams
A scrap yard of relationships
Varicose veins like grapes bursting out on a vine
Just an old mattress with broken springs
A wormy apple rolling on the floor
See me? I'm your future, girl
Have a nice day.


The Special One
I was not born in a favela
I did not live in fear of rain
Bringing a mountain of mud to bury my house

My parents were not one of the million people
Living in filth and fear of gangs and dealers

I was born in SaoPaulo,
In the land of perpetual drizzle and red hot music
Of carnivals spiced with every race in the world

Hansen's disease slipped into our home unasked
By-passing our compound security

My father shot a prowling burglar dead
How do you shoot the leprosy contagion?

Will my skin grew patches of white?
Will I lose my eyebrow hair?
Will I grew a saddle nose,
Claw hands?
Will my skin turn dry and flaky?

They call it a rat's disease
My parents were professional people
Which only goes to show
That life's a lottery


Three: for a granddaughter, Skye Anderson
Skye, with the lovely lashes
Three is the perfect age
For you're on your toes and ready
To dance on the world's stage

Now everything's fresh with wonder
So much to do and dare
And you know that close beside you
Your mum and dad are there

Skye, with the lovely lashes
Three is the perfect age
For life is a beach untrodden
Each day is a new-turned page