The Toad On The Rock's Opinion (21 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Toad On The Rock's Opinion (21 Scots Poems)



1.The Singer

Hard-duntit nails bigg best ava
A bonnie haa, a bonnie haa;
Smeddum an virr will bigg it braw,
Nae scrattins sma, nae scrattins sma.

Sae is't wi sang. Ma faither skailt
His marra, banes an sowel intil't
An in some auld Scots waefu. lilt
Wi hertbrak, note an swat he'd fill't.

Syne, fin fowk say,
'Ye sang yon weel, It gart me greet',
like tyke tae heel I ain ma faither's guidin plan,
That early gart me unnerstaun,
The singer's bit the barley's beard -
The sang's the pith, the sap, the weird.

In sang, ye maun brakk doon the boun
Atween the listener an the tune,
Till luv or grievin, like sma rain,
Wauchts throw their consciousness like pain.

It's nae the singer, bit the thocht
That draas fowk roon, like gowd unsocht,
Sae fin ye sing, yer bit the stem
The sang's the flooer, the croon, the gem
That boos an shudders in the win,
An fin ye feenish, they sud fin
The fitprints o the wirds alang
Their rig-banes o some auld Scots sang.

Deid faither, fin I steek ma ee
The singer that I hear is ye
Oh gie me pouer, tae touch the hairt
As ye did wi yer airtless airt.


2.Mandala o the Sizzens

First a bud on a tree's lang cleuk,
cud makk a besom tae swype a neuk.
Secunt, a tap like a pixie's toorie,
blossom breenges in weather, shooerie.
Third, a wallop o sonsie green,
fullin the wids neth Simmer's meen.

Heestergowdie, last ava,
tapsalteerie, awa they blaa
Wheerily, eerily, ower they gyang,
the wee, the muckle, the weak, the strang,
Sooked like a dram bi a man blin foo,
intae Winter's gluggerin moo.


3.Midsimmer

Oh I can see the shaddas shift, an I can smell the hey,
Fresh cuttit in the simmer park, new- rochled up tae dry.

Noo, ilkie leaf on ilkie bough, showds in the simmer win,
An I can hear the teuchit's sang ayont the yalla whin.

In yon blue sky abeen the lea, nae pick o cloud nor rain
Time hauds its braith. The lift abeen is clear's a windae pane.

The moosie creeps, the birdie cheeps, an as the warld is weel,
Midsimmer, fan the sizzen's cairt turns easy on its wheel.


4.Mormaer o Mar

The broon-blaik bluid fae the Bens
has swallt the burns
Mist wyves throw the wids,
an aidder that winna shift.

The win is snell as it sets the aik leaves dauncin,
Aff in the Daunce o Daith that nocht can stop.
It sets the copper clouds o larick prancin,
It gars the waves lowp by like lang tint years.

Rin Dee rin, like a watter shelt richt brawly
Ben the banks that are close tae ye's a wife!
Ye are the gene that crosses the generations
Cairryin pouer an virr, the Sire o Life.

Tho I maun staun, a puil wi deid leaves fillin
My watter is the muir's communion wine.
My Covenant, the Braes o Mar, aroon me
Stinch an strang fae the first Crack o Time.


5.November: Coastal Journey

The peetiless snaw drifts doon like grains o san,
The train rins ram-stam on ben iron tracks.
Wauchts o Winter wheech frae the jeelin sea,
The tinny voice on the tannoy tells we're late.

The train rins ram-stam on ben iron tracks,
A passin train is a bawd wi flanks raked reid.
The tinny voice on the tannoy tells we' re late,
The scaldin tea sea-saws in its plastic cup.

A passin train is a bawd wi flanks raked reid,
Steadins are harled wi snaw like fleecy oo,
The scaldin tea sea-saws in its plastic cup,
The tide is weety as dolphins, grey an skyty.

Steadins are harled wi snaw like fleecy oo
The peetiless snaw drifts doon like grains o san.
The tide is weety wi dolphins, grey an skyty,
Wauchts o Winter wheech frae the jeelin sea.


6.Wytin fur the Bus

This mornin, as I wyted fur the bus,
I watched a wyver crunchin up a flee.

Nae serviette
Nae flooers on the table.
Nae saft lichts, backgrun music,
Nae waiters, fuss,
Nae skinklin cutlery
A mediaeval banquet o a brakkfast

It munched awa the flee's mortality.
Echt chopstick airms
Drew the morsel in
It chawed the gollach,
Left the wings ahin.
Like rinds o bacon,
Or roast chukken skin.

Syne, kyte weel stappt
Sank back, in its web-hank.
And frae its mou,
There danglit
Ae
Lane
Shank.


7.Names

Senorita, or Senora,
Mademoiselle, or la fillette
Puella, Caileag, Cailleach, wad be even better yet

Bit in Scots ye are a Soo, a Doo,
A Hen, Aul Goat or Coo
As a mither o the nation,
My response tae this is MOO!


8.Journeys

Wee peesies jink ben lichtsome clouds,
their journey's heich an quick
I envy them thon element,
the lan o win an rikk

Blythe treetlin trooties sweem the burn
as swack as lowpin glegs
Bit here I'm anchored on the lan,
a steen amang the seggs

There's puckles traivel aa the warld
yet niver move ava
While ithers reenge frae Pole tae Pole
chyned tae a stirkie's staa

There's mony a steen is made o fire,
an ithers, made o ice
The sickle meen brings sleep an dream.
Kent circles shakk an splice
Syne we may walk a Netherwarld,
throwe stories dwined an deid
An gaither up their stoor an aisse
tae gie them flesh an bluid


9.Airport Ambience

Lichts, flichts, fathoms o heichts,
towrists hopin tae see the sichts
Far's the aeroplane. Fit's the cost?
Fa's the loon lookin feart an lost?
Fit like presents in duty free?
Somethin flashy, or keech, or twee?

Fit'll the weather be like in Spain?
Birsslin beaches or drookt wi rain?
Fit if yer hyne abeen the seas
fin the engine suddenly ups an deer?
Fit if a terrorist jynes the crew?
Think o the fleg an the hullabaloo!

It's ifs an mebbes that are tae blame
fur keepin the Cautious safe at hame!


10.The Whale in the Boatie

A gale blew up in the Firth o Forth
An aa the waves grew gurly
As a roller coaster carnival ride
Or a washin machine sae furly

The watter walloped the waves aboot
Till the fish war fairly wabbit
Fin the gale deed doon, the whale looked roon
An a passin boat he grabbit.

`Oh will ye gie me a hurl? quo he
Tae the skipper o the boatie,
`Tae a quaeter sea in a far countrie
That winna rend ma coatie? '

`Climm in, ' said the skipper cheerfully,
I'm gaun that wye masel,
An fit's mair fine, than tae spen the time
In the company o a whale? '


11.Stories

The silence o the muckle trees
The lazy bizzin o the bees
The burnie far it takks its ease
They tell the finest story

Like oo that's snagged on barbit wire
I'm tethered noo, bit sweet's the hire
That brings me tae this seely shire
That tells the mountains' story

The sooty craa flees heich an black
I hitch a lift upon his back
Tae share the muckle erne's crack
Winged seannachie o glory


12.Little Red Riding Hood's lovely furry suit

Faither's back wis hairy as a wolf.
The fur aneth his sark
Blaik fuzz, wad gar him scrat, an flech betimes.
'Tae ma anely dother, I bequeath ma pelt'

Hirsute Celtic weemin,
Little Red Riding Hood's wolvine legacy.
This tide o bonnie fur
Shrunk tae the isles o oxters,
Peninsulas o dowp


13.Eird Hoose

I wad hae me an eird hoose, an eird hoose,
wi shaddas fur ma bed
A cailleach - lair, wi its reets fur hair,
this bield tae the Derkness wed

Here, Winter wadnae enter,
nur ae ae heich wird be heard
Like a mowdie-skin, the pitmerk, blin,
wad ring me like a gird

Ooto the wye o the aidder,
the erne an the peckin craa
Nae storm will iver fin me.
Nae breengin breezes blaa

I'll turn ma jaa tae the moosewabs,
like the stoor an the blawn caff
Fae the warld's merrimatazie,
sae lichtsome I'll step aff


14.What the Anatomist didn't say

Hairt dunts like a drum,
a pulsed rhythm, tapped on a streetched skin.
A reid bellows wirked in a derk smiddy,


15.The Spitfire Veg

Aipples gie me the pip.
I'd raither be an ingin, culturally spikkin
Nae some wee berry ony craa can shakk
An ingin is the the spitfire o the veg
Ye think it's gaen...
It ay comes roarin back.


16.Hannibal Lecter's Alternative Christmas Denner

The precedent is Sawney Bean, the Scottish cannibal fa'd clean,
The puddens ooto Jock or Jean, wi potted heid, fur snacks atween.

His neb cud gyang on Monday's plate...a treat, fit fur a potentate
A culinery tour de force, atween the broth an trifle course,
Wi's tossell sookit like a sweety, he'd brichten up the cock-a-leekie

Insteid o bubblyjock's gee-gaws,
Lecter wad feast, wi slivverin jaws
On Santa, roasted wi paw-paws.
Feed fur a wikk on Mister Claus!

Of course, the reindeer wad be free tae makk a documentary
Aboot their lives as postie-beasts, afore they left their chimney-reests!


17.Flood
Inspired by Sir Edwin Landseer's painting, 'Flood in the Highlands'

The derkenin cloud. The spit o rain.The burnie bigger growes.
The lichtenin teirs the lift in twa. The larick boos an soughs.

The Heivens teem. The lochans ream.The cooerin yowies bleat
A broken gate's a burn in spate..a warlock, wud an weet.

The spring that treetled doon the braes is noo a roarin linn
Wi ragin kelpies gaun afore, the horned Deil ahin.

Flood in the Heilans! See the craft wi watter at its croon!
A Heicher Haun than mortal man dings ae wee faimly doon.

An bits o gear that they haud dear, claes, gee-gaws o the best
The risin tide casts aa aside like ploo-share throwe a nest.

The worsit plaid wi'ts tartan braid, the greetin littlin's cradle
Are heelstergowdie on the reef wi chitterin tyke, an table

The riven blanket in the wins is torn tae threids an thrums
Like a bodhran in warrior's haun the thunnerin doonpish drums

Aa draiglit in the dubby glaur, a precious christenin goun
A mither's snawy petticoats, bumshayvelt, heid tae foun.

Buik, buit an pan, the hale jing bang, gyang furlin ben the wave
In smithereens fine crystal speens sink tae a stormy grave.

The heichest lum, the stootest waa, rich herds o milkin kye
Are bit as nocht, fin aa unsocht, Misfortune cries inbye.


18.Anaesthesia

Screivin's anaesthesia fur livin.
Whyles I screive like a Maori war canoe.

Efter the screivin
Fin the mind is teem o thocht
Peace showds like a wicker coracle,
Lapped by a quaet loch.


19.Deid an Alive

Bawd, killt on the road's
An ugsome frozen cloud o bluidy fur
Ahin its glaiss een
Maggots meeve an heeze

A bonnie butterie's furlieorum tongue
Rypit gowd fae poppy bi a zebra crossin
Micht reest a meenit on the bawd's stiff lug
Brakkin its journey, winnin back its pech


20.Intimate

Grippin anither's haun (a skeleton's glove o skin)
Is nae great shakes.
Is merely pumpin win.
Hochmagandie's a cocktail mix
0 juices. A quick fix.
Twa meenit pick-me-up fur ennui.

Bit thocht, dear bocht, that bares the sel itsel,
Yon's intimate, fin harns thegither mell,
Thochts sweeled thegither sharin the same shell.


21.Deer Skull

Twinned horns reeted in ae white cave,
Coral-smeeth, the colour o bleached linen.
Keenin wins abseil doon corries o been,
Glissade like fite birds cairriet on wings o snaa
The shocks an whorls o teem ee sockets glent
Far glances quick an blate aince berthed an blinkit.

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