3 English Poems (Rickmatic) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Escapologist
When a problem mugs my day
I'm away on invisible wings
To a linn's cool spray

When a confrontation rears
I stop my ears
I'm on the Seine, the Tiber
Or in Tangiers

At the first sign of a clash
Or a social car crash
I up-out-dash


Welcome to the North East Coast
The roads are gradually widening
Like the girth of a fat cat investor

The coast now farms suburbias
Nests of commuters burgeoning over farmlands
Bludgeoning wildlife and woods

Windfarms whirl white arms
Slicing the air like cake knives
Here's a wedge of wind to use as fuel

Skyscrapers prop up clouds
While offshore behemoth vessels
Strain at anchor, cheap sea mooring

Gulls are raucous, their screeching calls
Like nails dragged down a blackboard

In isolated watering holes
Coffee is glugged. Tacky postcards are sold
Of Highland cows and Nessie
If you venture off track to the older villages
You may hear the North East's Doric language spoken

Like stalking a stag, do not scare the speakers off
By swamping the conversation with spoken English

Old Age
I'm going to turn old age into a punch bag
KAPOW-OOMPH-KERBANG
I'm going to stick two prongs in its ears
OOYA-OUCHY-OUCHY-OUCH
I'm going to empty the dog poo waste
Over its head
Oh, I'm going to give it laldy
I'll scalp it! I'll trash it! I'll bash it!
Old Age watch out
I'm gunning for you
I'm going to frizzle your gizzard