Sheena Blackhall Poems

Mountains, snow-swept mountains of Arctic grandeur
Where no sweet bird finds rest in Winter’s thrall
Your streams should run with blood for a thousand aeons
You watched and did not hinder Clan Donald’s fall
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Alum, dog turd, piss, egg, lime
Shakespeare's father was a glover
Lambskin kid and deer he used
To fashion gloves of finest leather
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As I walked along the shore of the Irish Sea
Up he rose from the water, uninvited
My husband, young as a rowan sprig in flower
Having left his gun on the ground of Ulster's troubles
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9 Wee Poems

1.God's Wellies
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It takes 35 minutes to travel the Channel Tunnel
24 miles under murky fathoms of deep
Napoleon would have loved this foxy link
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Have you ever shared a table
Dribbling, drooling a succession
Of platitudes, as monkeys grunt
Whilst sociably delousing?
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1. An Inside Job (1)

‘And only click the switch, when you hear sound'
The audiologist said.
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I close my eyes. I walk a river bed,
Around my calves, each wave gleams like a fin
I am a child again, unwooed, unwed
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I do not jeer at squirrels
Or peel frogs out of their jumpsuits

I do not throw stones at angels
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They led the strange one into the woods
To the tree that stands like a twisted snake
And the hawthorn bush it tore his skin
But never a sound did the strange one make
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