Sheena Blackhall

Gold Star - 4,712 Points (18/8/1947 / Aberdeen)

A Boorich O Breets (26 Scots Poems) - Poem by Sheena Blackhall


Yer een are like the hardest neep
Yer powe's as fair's a dyke
I love wi virr yer sharny sheen
Yer wallydraigle's fyke.

Tho fyles I ken upon the Ben
Ye are a forcey lover
I pray this day that come fit may
Ye'll niver be a wether.


Yowes on knowes an girssy howes,
Ging wallopin back an fore,
As sune's the year gars aathing brier,
Ayont the barn door.

Fin aathin growes on braes an boughs,
Yowes lowp like kangaroos,
Syne woolly mas, wi bleats an baas,
Sit doon tae hae a news.


Seen frae a car windae,
Staunin, dreich an dubby,
Jaws gaun back an forrit, back an forrit,
A yowe ootside Kirkcaldy.

Seen throwe a schule windae,
Ootside a heidie's study,
Jaws gaun back an forrit, back an forrit,
Three lassies chawin chuddy.


Beasts o the tree, the burn, the lea,
Takk reet in my humanity
Fae evenin's derk an dusky mooth
The blackie 's tune's a mead fur drooth

Come, wheeple on yer pipes, wud Pan
An raise the hooded snake in Man
Remind him, as returns tae glaur
Fin, fur an wing, oor brithers are.


Geese in Vs flee ower the trees,
they dinna like ohs an ahs

They scrat their Vs
on the slate-gray breeze
The skitter o dots are craas!


I passed a dragon in the girse,
Its een o jade grat siller tears,
Bow-hoched it hirpled ben the sheuch,
Some-like a boor-tree booed wi years.
Each drap that fell fae its great een,
Showed holocausts as yet unseen.

I drew a grey lance fae its side
An watched its mou fill up wi fire,
A thoosan craiturs o the nicht,
That bedd inbye it did conspire
Tae poor fae its wide mawe, coorse seed,
The shakkins o its tainted bluid.

An yet I cudna raise a sword,
Tae hairm it, nur wi bitter wird
Condemn the dragon o the wid
Nur tell the hunter far it hid.

It wis anither fa betrayed
The dragon wi the een o jade.


Eence there wis a unicorn, prancin roon a tree
Rinnin fae a herd o mares that nummered thirty-three.

A student cam an fetched him
Tae the university.

'Tell me Mr Unicorn, fit will yer study be?

'Oh I will takk a doctorate in animal husbandry.'


The myav is skirlin
His beak's a yalla v
A wedge o raw sea-soun

The myav is skirlin
King o the fish-gut kingdom
Challengin sea, wave, quay
The myav is skirlin

A boat wi twa bricht oars
Breachin the stormy lift


The diva o the dulse
Winnerfu myaav
Singin its paeon o joy


Wee Glesga Hen
Sunbathin in ra buff.
Belly bared, legs thegither
Swytin pirls o fat, 'n that.

Wee Glesga hen, turn up the heat.
Bit o wine. Bit o patter.
Yours, on a platter.

Wee Glesga hen, Ken?
Wine fur sterters.
Turn up ra heat.

Wee Glesga hen fur efters.


I hid a bowfin puppy dug
It piddlit on the mat.

An sae ma mither kicked it oot
An noo we hae a cat.


Skinnymalinkie centipede hid affa shoogly legs
Like a traicle-streak o liquorice on elasticated pegs
Bit noo she's swack's a puddock, she can lowp an rax an rin
Since Skinnymalinkie centipede's bin veesitin the gym


Doon at the foon o oor fite bath,
Dowpit on echt black legs,
A wyver sits wi a smirk on his moo,
Wytin tae gie fowk flegs.

Turn on the tap! Sweel him awa!
Belly, oxter an lug!
Ae black wyver on echt black legs
Vanishin doon the plug!


There's a bawd in the park aside the Dee,
Far the Tulloch wids hing broon,
Fin the birk trees shakk, his lugs preen back,
Gainst the win he's hunkered doon.

Tho my tales be telt, an my heirskip selt
The Dee is an on-gaun story
The bawd in the wid wi his fur hauf hid
An the beech in its copper glory

My fowk an their spikk hae fled like rikk,
Nane here noo share my bluid,
Yet this snaaflake airt ay claims my hairt
I am my faither's seed.

Fur an feather an hoof an horn
Are fashions that dinna change,
An the michty stag on the muckle crag,
Is tap o designer range.

Tho monarchs crummle an empires cowp,
Like wauchts o winnlestrae,
The flash o finn ower the tummlin linn
Will be there till the eyn o day.

Commuter chiels bi the Tulloch puils,
Will be stoor an aisse an smush,
Bit the troot, the erne, an the wyvin fern
Will be here wi the hurlygush.

Fin the ile rins oot, an the gushers sproot
On Galaxy X or Mars,
The bawd'll be bi the dimplin Dee
Wi his preen-prick friens, the stars.


Bi a mervel, I catch him.
Somebody's dippit the moosie's wyme in cream.
His hairt's gaun like the clappers,
Fit tae breenge fae his briest.

Hauf a hanfu, this wud wee moose o the park
Is weirin his best broon fur.

Daylicht glisters like watter throwe his lugs,
Sae thin they'd teir like gauze.
His wrunklit snoot gars silky mowser trimmle.

Fin I dowp him doon on the yird,
Oot o the dizzy element o air,
His nyaakit tail wheechs faist,
Streaks ben corn that pairts an sweys wi a swish.

Field moose is a train
On skirps o fleein feet, fower winners o engineerin,
Grease-lichtenin taes
Mair mervellous than Japan microchips.


Willie wirm is tied in knots
Because he disna ken
If wummlin tap or wummlin tail
Is heid or hinneren.


Nae aa cats are a hive o sedition...
Ane can spikk aboot nuclear fission!
If ye treated him richt, he wad bide up aa nicht
An skaik aboot Chaucer an Titian.

This Hamish is shameless an purry
Will expose genitalia furry
Wi a flick o his tail, he can discourse on Hale
An quote fae James Joyce an Charles Murray.


On ma passport's stampit 'Clarence', bit ma real name's Gunga Din,
I'm an incomer fa cheenged his name attemptin tae fit in,
Fur the ethnic composition roon Cullerlie's maistly Scots,
There's a cockerel fae Rhynie....there's a bantam fae Loch Potts,
There's a goose fae Little Egypt in the pairish o Cromar,
Sae the closest tae a pyramid it's bin is Lochnagar.

I hae pickit up the lingo. I've a lug fur ither leids.
I fyles news tae Prince the stallion aboot fa's won best o breeds
I stravaig aboot the midden wi ma tail spread like a fan,
I'm the anely Doric spikkin peacock here fae Hindustan.

Fyles I weary fur the jungle an the Orient sae braw
Bit finiver I growe hameseek, a gweed doonpish cures it aa,
Fur a monsoon at Cullerlie gied me aa the weet I crave,
Fin a dyeuk gaed sweemin ower a dyke atap a muckle wave!

I'm the jewel o the kailyaird, I'm the Sultan o the dubs
I'm awa tae clear ma throat oot. Haud ootower or haud yer lugs!


Shoogle-tailie bandy, skytin ben the reeds
Ye hae drag yer shadda in the lang loch weeds

Sheetin like a squib ben the lobbie o yer hoosie
Shoogle-tailie bandy fit's aa yer stooshie?


Kim Hippopotamus stappit her moo,
wi chocolate an chips an cheese.
She raxxed her jaws an she fullt her wyme,
wi puddens an cakes an peas.

She fried her tatties, she fried her breid,
in a pan o gruesome grease,
An efter a year or twa o thon,
her belly it reached her knees.

She cudna daunce an she cudna sweem,
she jist grew fat an fatter,
Fin Kim Hippopotamus lowped in a puil,
There wis nae room left fur watter.

She grew as roon as a gray balloon
till she ett her last meringue...
Wi a tearsome soon fae her taes tae her croon
She blew up wi a bang!

21.WEE LAIRD O THE AIR Falconer's Peregrine, Fyvie

Sleek as a Pope's, yer skull cap.
A jabot o cream reams ower yer elegant thrapple
Ye splay yer wings like a priest in a Haly Chapel
Priggin his congregation tae boo their heids in prayer.

Wee laird o the air
Teirin yer leather tethers, hooded an belled on yer perch,
Sune ye'll be taen tae the ring, pit throw yer paces.
On yer alloted flicht, rage doon at the upturned faces
Fur aathin Man encoonters, he maun cage or snare or control,
Fae currency, trade an darg, tae a livin soul.
Fowk tae, are taen tae the ring, pit throwe their paces

22. THE FUTTERAT POEM After the 'Mouse' poem by Stephen Parr (The Buddhist poet Ananda)

Fair fa yer honest futterat
Ower mony futterats spyle the broth
Some enchanted futterat
Aroon the Warld in echty futterats
O my luv is like a reid, reid futterat
Irn Bru. Made in Scotland fae futterats
Ae futterat in the haun's wirth twa in the buss
God save oor gracious futterat
Little Miss Muffet sat on a futterat
Ilkie good turn deserves a futterat


'Ra! S'caul!
Ra! S'caul!
A wee auld wifie skirls atween the wheelies
It isna caul ava.
It's hett's a pysn't plonk
0 a suddenty, oot fae a hotterel o nettles
A tortoiseshell eunuch hirples.
Rascal, the bakkie voyeur, creepin hame.


Dingle-dangle spider kickin up a stooshie
The dird o passin larries is duntin at yer hoosie
Thrummle wyver, thrummle wyver
Gin yer shawl sud teir
Fa wid hing the dyewdraps
The mornin likes tae weir?


Pairt o the flutterin widlan's pulse,
I wis a shuttle in the mist,
A throb o fur on cloven hooves,
Blae wraith wi een o amethyst.

Fower fitted gypsy o the muir,
The paths I reenged war roch an fyew,
Strung wi fine strands o wyver's lace,
Glitterin wi pearlin beads o dyew.

Winnerfu as a hatchin egg
Spleet new, I bore my kindred's seeds
The glamourie o auncient lines,
0 royal sires ran in my bluid.

The shiftin contours o my hame,
War showdin canopies o fir.
Shaddas o larick happed my heid,
Far hoolets hunted throw the smirr.

My hooves war wings, quicksilver bricht,
Breengin ootower the forest fleer,
Like meltin steel ahin my back
Mist, rippled greyly ower the muir.

Mortality my thrapple gript,
It catched an felled me like a log.
My jaw been's thrang wi moss an steen
Smush, in the seepage o the bog.


Eence aa's said an deen, leid cairries culture, new an fremmit,
tho Pipers jam jazz and fiddlers square reel circles.

Heedrum hodrum's hip hip hooray in the New Millennium.
Nor East balladeers sing sangs wi wolves, wi whales.

Scots chiels maun jibber cheek bi jowl
At the same brod's Clan Clanjamfray.

The oots an ins are cheengin
Naebody kens the horseman's wird.

E-mails wheech ben the lobby.
In the New Millennium,
Newmachar commutes.
St Machar claws his powe.

Staunin steens maun shift their auncient goal posts.
Widen their circle.
In the New Millennium
Tifty's Annie bides wi the trumpeter.

Unkent hauns rax forrit
The Bishop maun takk an shakk them.
Elphinstane's cromack steers the alchemist's brew.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 8, 2013

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