Death Matters: English Poems Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Death Matters: English Poems

Seaumas McSporran: Jack of all trades
Policeman and fireman, pier master,
Postmaster, collector of rent
Undertaker and bed and B & owner
Shopkeeper, each minute work-spent
He was also an insurance agent
Drove ambulance, taxi, school bus
He delivered the petrol for drivers
And registered deaths with no fuss
What a whirl of man was McSporran!
Like a wild hurricane with a pen
Was there really no end to his talents?
That most multi-tasking of men


Songbirds
Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty songbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened, all stuffed with pretty bird
Did the throats begin to sing? Silence only heard!


Haggis
A haggis of strange pedigree
Sent American Customs loopee
Was the haggis a spy
Sneaking in on sly?
It was shot, quite a lot
R.I.P


The Porpoise
A porpoise who needed the loo
Stood ever so long in the queue
So much that he dried
And in consequence died
While politely not passing his poo


Bagpipe Malady
A priest in a kilt played the pipes
Waterskiing. The salmon cried ‘Cripes!
It's a father in drag
And he's squeezing a bag
Which sounds as if its got the gripes'


Tell-Tale
I wanted to tell the world about my failures
The garden shed stopped its ears, the house stone walled me
I tried telling the sea but the tide withdrew
Wailing shush shush shush

The cat in the chysanthemums
Uptailed, stalked off, presenting the bead of its bottom

I tried telling the florist
She sold me a bunch of forget me nots
And said ‘Get lost', while languidly filing her nails

In the café I told a stranger over a frothy latte
He hadn't listened at all,
He frowned, I'd disturbed his crossword

I went to the church
I sat in an empty pew
And tipped all the nasties into the chilly air
Whatever I told it echoed and returned
Like an onion repeating itself on the breath

I should have bought a Dictaphone instead


Cistercians at the Monastery of Deer
Vigils at 2am-precentor leads the singing
Heads bowed, each monk is on time

Lauds at 3am- daybreak and prayers,
Prime at 4am-prayers and confession
Chanting psalm 129

5 till 8 its work. There's hens to tend, there's scything grass
Milking, gardening, weeding the orchard, brewing
Pottery, scribing, polishing, cleaning, baking
Breakfast of porridge and bread, a mug of ale
Terce at 9am and then it's mass

Sext at 11.30, and after, dining
Siesta at noon to snatch a needed nap
None at 2pm - prayers, more work, reading

Vespers at 6pm
At 8, Compline
Then blessed sleep, bed in a dormitory

No wife, no child. A life of celibacy
A monastery becomes the family
White-robed, shaved head, Cistercians
Always together,
Always solitary