Of Jersey, St Malo, Nazis And Wuhan(22 Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.Travel Chest
The bird on her maiden flight
Took a little light reading with her
Daphne Du Maurier’s The Birds
And a salutary tale of a Dodo

Leaving nothing to chance,
She adjusted the straps on her safety helmet
Defence against hawk or buzzard

Her sat-nav’s in her genes
She wouldn’t know a map from a wish-bone

This bird’s a book-worm
(Thoreau to Baudelaire, Chaucer to Poe)
Ever since she learned that books
Were written by men with quills

She has the makings of a first class pilot
Being a bird who won’t change her feathers
Because the weather is bad


2.Needs
Every library should have a resident cat
(So sleek and so silent, so silky, so wise)
Named Old Jellylorum or Coricopat,
Or like Alice’s Cheshire…a smile and two eyes.

All artists and writers should have as their perks
The finest of coffee, Gold Blend, in a mug
And a bagful of malted milk biscuits to munch
As they laugh on the bus making others cry ‘Ugh!
You can tell she’s creative, she speaks to thin air
and the bees in her bonnet have hatched in her hair

By buildings, in gardens, near shopping parades
Is that rustling paper? Or wind in the trees?
The prose may be merry, or evil as spades
A serious reader keeps turning the leaves

Oh the freedom to step into literature’s land!
The only things needed, a book and your mind
The words light the touch paper- find Samarkand
Leave the everyday streets and their sorrows behind!

3.Cro-Magnon
The past seen through the blurred lens of the future:
Baby teeth from the Grotto del Cavallo in Italy,
Oldest Cro-Magnon remains discovered in Europe,
45,000 years old, an infant ancestor

Remains in the Cave of the Bones,
Near the Iron Gates in Romania
A bear den, where humans were prey

A skeleton, in a cave in Gower, South Wales,
Red ochre nearby for anointing
Laid by a mammoth skull and personal decorations

Male and female remains
By a rock shelter at Les Eyzies, Dordogne
Evidence of infection, a skull fracture

In life, straight limbed and tall,
Tan-skinned and strong,
These folk pierced shells,
Used bones and teeth for jewelry
Killed mammoths, bears and reindeer
Hunted with spear and javelin
Made huts of mammoth bones with furs and hides
Wove baskets, knotted flax

14000 years after the paint had dried
In Spanish Altamira, a girl
Entered a cave with her Papa
Bulls, bison, oxen flickered in the lamp
Cast long shadows of lost aeons

The cramped, hunched artists painted with
Pigments of ochre and manganese
Iron dug from the earth,
Animal fat. Charcoal from the fire
That lit their caves

Danger, death, dark and licking flames of fire
At one with his world
An artist-hunter pauses,
Poised with paint in hand
Catching the fleeting procession
Of herds and stalkers.

4.Thank You Spring
Thank you Spring
You came in the nick of time
With your multiple spears of daffs
Bearding the frozen hill

Thanks you daffs
Your golden faces beaming and buttery
Nodding like archangels
Under April’s tumbleweed clouds

Thank you magpie
A waiter bringing a tray
Of song notes, jingle jangling
Over the scrubby garden grass

Thank you spring
Your dewy eyes so bright
Your breeze so up-and-downsy-tricksy
See! Winter runs away like a mad March hare!


5.Slavery on Jersey
The column of Russian prisoners came from the harbour –
Shuffling, filthy, ashen grey,
Fuddle, de-humanized.

Guards from the Organization Todt
Prodded and shouted at them
As if they’d been a herd of lumbering cattle.

About 6,000 came
Housed in eleven camps, on the west of the island

They built sea walls, and other wartime works
Were starved, beaten by shovels until the died

The Nazi guards were drawn from German prisons
Scum of the earth, no morals, no compassion
Bodies were often thrown into wet concrete.

Some slaves escaped, slept rough and stole their food
Locals brought their hens into the kitchen
Kept the milking goat beneath the stairs

Many Russians lie in Strangers’ Cemetery
Others, under the ground where they were killed.


6.June Mary Sinclair: in memoriam
June Mary Sinclair, shiny’s a new pin
Blue eyed, fair haired, single
Had a right-side parting,
A cotton print dress
A nice-as-nine pence grin

And then she moved to Jersey
Blonde half Jew with a Scots surname
Became a waitress in that mild land
Of cows, of fields, of paddocks and race courses
Molested by a drunken German there,
She slapped his face, committing the ultimate sin
Of ‘insulting the German Forces’

The punishment? Shipped off to Ravensbruck
North of Berlin, for heavy labour, whippings
Extermination through Work
Medical experiments or enforced prostitution
Her half-lived life soon brought to a conclusion

By 1943 June Mary Sinclair was dead
Creating a free space in the Ravensbruck barracks of four to a bed
And all because that lovely girlish smile
Turned one drunk Nazi’s head


7.Jersey
An American state. A pullover
A lily, potato, a cow
The swastika flew oer the island
Where financiers and bankers live now

Its reefs and its pirates were famous
‘The Kingdom of Congers’, though small
Provided a Prince of Wales’ mistress
Lily Langtry, the toast of Pall Mall

Once smugglers, ship wreckers and pirates
Posing puffins, green lizards and wine
All thrived in the Gulf-Stream warm waters
Where British and Francais combine

Devil’s Hole, Bouley Bay, and the Spice House
The Lavender Farm and Hamptonne
The Moulin de Lecq, oysters, orchids
Durrell’s zoo and Le Rue des Platons

French Patisserie, the crapaud statue
Elizabeth Castle, Bonne Nuit
The Corbiere Lighthouse, war tunnels
And the boisterous breeze from the sea

Blokarting, skydiving, abseiling
Sea fishing, golf courses as well
Kite boarding, windsurfing, coasteering
Body boarding to catch the sea well

The beaches and bays are breathtaking
Walter Raleigh was fond of this nook
As he pirate, he saw its potential
Until officials brought him to book

An American state. A pullover
A lily, potato, a cow
The swastika flew oer the island
Where financiers and bankers live now

8.Tourists
In plastic comfort shoes and panty liners
Waggling their bingo wings, flashing their bling
The tourists view third world through shades of gray

Creased, crumpled, balding, the faintest smell of rot
Dried sweat and ennui oozes from every pore
Splay footed spread bellied water suckers tax duckers
Voyeurs with lists to tick
Their money buys them a ring side seat to poverty

Soon they’ll be on Mars, their spacesuits covered
In stickers: I love Saturn’
They cut through cultures like a knife through butter
Loud as bursting bags thrill seekers, plane hoppers
Short stoppers site bloggers beach snoggers
Face bookers tale tweeters
Cross them and duck the toys, flung from their prams
Some of them spark off wars


9.St Malo
At the gate of the great walled city,
Carrousel Maluin, rises and falls in a circle
Of children’s yelps and screams of unbridled joy,
Gaudy painted horses and carriages rear up
Mechanically, to the hurdy gurdy music

Brittany’s coat of Arms and motto
Better Death than Stain
Are set in the stone, along with an ermine,
Symbolic of the Dukes of the ancient town.
In the pretty harbour, a forest of masts
Sway in the mild sea rhythms

A man in knee length khaki shorts
En plein air pees in the shrubbery

A yapping Pomeranian and two poodles
Have slipped the leash to attack a plastic ball
Stopped on the cobbles, a man with rouged cheeks
And a straw hat garlanded with flowers,
Is singing a peasant song, accompanied by his melodeon

A family of intrigued Spaniards, lick ice cream
In the shade of a shop awning
A magpie peers for crumbs from a French post box

Pirates festoon every nook and cranny
Fridge magnet Long John Silvers,
Plastic masks of Blackbeard
Jolly Roger ashtrays, ready to waylay
The stream of passing wallets

All Europe’s here, a flight of jackdaws
Pecking up the crepes, the sweets, the delights
Of all that a Breton summer has to offer


10.Le Vagabond: Le Petit Train de Saint-Malo
Up the streets the little train
Choc-a-bloc must take the strain
Of screeching toddlers, frazzled mums
Of hefty tourists’ spreading bums

Street pirates posing for a fee
Are dressed as if for villainy
Skull and crossbones, flags and toys
Pistol sets for savage boys

Breton lace and Gallic charm
Picture postcards, trinkets swarm
Peeling Brits in sandals, socks
Shedding Euros pass in flocks

Up the streets, the little train
Toils through summer heat and rain
Drink it in, c’est tres jolie!
This sunny town of fantasy


11. Fruits de Mer, St Malo
Fruits de mer, all plated, garnished
Oysters, lobsters, pollock, crabs
Scooped out, scoffed, have quickly vanished
Mussels, out on fish shop slabs

Chablis, Laroche, Chadonnay
Sauvignon Blanc, Pinet Noir
Bordeaux Rouge, Champagne Rosé
Wines from Rhine and Rhone and Loire

Chocolates, biscuits, sweets and spices
Kids with drippy whippy ices
Crêpes, a painted carousel
Beneath the great cathedral bell

Castle with a grand donjon
Kept the English out of reach
Now, the French can’t keep us out
Brits have commandeered the beach!

12.Animals on the Razzle
A rhumba of rattlesnakes went to a club
With a bevy of roebucks in tow
A party of jays joined the shindig as well
All seeking a drink and a show

On the stage pranced a marvel of unicorn mares
A flange of baboons close behind
A quiver of cobras, a bump-grind of toads
The compere was a bear, most refined.

A lounge of green lizards sloped off to the pool
With a business convention of ferrets
A smack of pink jellyfish brought the cocktails
Which the squirrels agreed, had its merits

A confusion of guinea fowl phoned for the police
They complained they’d been hassled by vultures
But a prickle of porcupines poo-pood these claims
As merely a clash of two cultures

13.Meerkat
A meerkat, enjoying the sun
Set off on a marathon run
He forgot his sun cream, so he started to stream
With sweat and turned brown as a bun

14.Gorilla
A porky gorilla named Flo
Was afflicted with dreadful BO
Since she’s sprayed with perfume
The apes queue up to groom
Her. She charges 10 mangoes a go

15. Phyllis Flamingo
Phyllis Flamingo is terribly pink
When a suitor comes courting, he gives her a wink
It isn’t her beak that attracts all the beaux
It’s the length of her legs from her tum to her toes

16.Orangutan
An orangutan, very hirsute
Thought a short back and sides would be cute
But Gertie, his mate, cried ‘Oh Lord, what a state! ’
And promptly she gave him the boot

17.Hazel
Hazel, a white haired gibbon
Like to dress in a hat with a ribbon
But she dribbles her food, which is terribly rude
And really, should eat with a bib on

18.Snake
A snake who was feeling depressed
Went to live in a zoo for a rest
He opened each eye, as the folk wandered
Then he spat on their toes for a jest

19.The Aye-Aye
I’m not a squirrel. I’m not a cat
I am an Aye-Aye, I hang like a bat

A lemur-like being, I look like a clown
Things seem so peculiar when I’m upside down


20.Memorial Day for Childhood
Memorial Day for childhood
Its griefs, its joys, its nightmares
Learning guilt and jealousy and fear
Mourning lost holidays
The sacrifice of outgrown toys

The World was milk and honey
With more than a dash of vinegar
Terrible God was mother’s invisible policeman
No use to scream or run, he always saw
Memorial Day for childhood
The cortege marches past over the egg shells of memory
Dead dolls wearing fixed smiles and glassy eyes.
A nightmare swims a little above my head

21.Birthday
Birthday’s a time to look in the mirror
A voyeuristic, deer in headlights, gaze of reappraisal
Introspection drags the lagging self towards its core.

Your eye alights on a succession of doors,
Doorknob by open doorknob down the decades
Each empty room beckons you to eternity.
And you, yourself are the gatekeeper
Slowly, ivy roots climb up from the grave

Do you have a familiar?
Mine is a tiny homunculus
With a face like an imp, or a gnome
A self that never grew beyond a nut in my soul’s nursery

Like the teeth and hair wombed in my brother’s back
A surgeon’s knife cut those from their weird crib

22.Wuhan
Wuhan, the capital city of Hubei province,
Soars where the Yangtze and Han rivers meet
It’s the Chicago of China,
Older than Beijing, Xi'an, Nanjing.
Home of the Yellow Crane Tower

At the foot of Tortoise Hill,
Moon Lake is blossoming
Cultural parkland, mesh of myth and future

'Three Towns of Wuhan'
Wuchang, Hankou, and Hanyang,
Are linked by bridges, crossing the mighty Yangtze
Flowing down from the high Tibetan glaciers
Forging to Shanghai, and the China Sea

In summer, the city’s a furnace
Winter is cool and visited by snow
In spring the city’s vibrant with Mei blossoms
Cherry, plum, and lotus flower in the sun

At East Lake, during autumn.
Listen to the waves. Sit still. Drink tea
At the Land of water and cloud

You want to feast your eyes on joy and colour?
By day Jiqing Street doesn’t seem unusual
At night it clicks alive, a Chinese dragon
A maze of street-side cafes, buskers busking
Opera, stand-up comedy, electric!

In the old city in the Hankou district
The night air’s savoury with spicy shrimp balls
Beef soups, duck necks, Wenchang fish and dumplings

Maybe you prefer opera, high culture?
Visit the famed lute platform in Hanyang
Here Yu Boya played over the grave of his friend
Then smashed his lute in grief and desolation
Nearby, today, men practice wushu,
Chinese martial art, a leaping mantis

At the temple of tranquility, monks study the sutras
In the temple precincts, under the drum and bell towers
The Luohan Hall, the lovely lotus pond

Sakyamuni Buddha stands, carved block of jade
A gift from Burma, near the lion statue
Of Buddha in a previous existence

Wuhan’s a hub for economy, trade, and finance,
Optic-electronics and pharmaceuticals
The manufacture of cars and steel manufacturing,
Third in China for science and technology
Here is the fastest train in all the world!