English Poems From Fower Dragons Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Goldilocks
The original tea-leaf,
Rat-bag, greedy little guzzleboots
She crunched bits of the father's muesli
She slavered into the mother's scrambled eggs
She wolfed down the baby's yoghurt
Spreading her germs all over the breakfast table

Not to mention breaking the food utensils
Demolishing baby's chair,
Sprawling over his bed with burps and snores

Oh, but you musn't chastise her
Oh but you mustn't raise your voice
Her brain hasn't developed enough to know guilt
Consider her human rights
(Never mind those of baby
Who now must sleep in a drawer
Never mind father & mother
Who now have to visit a foodbank and recycling centre
To restore the status quo)

Maybe she needs to get a diagnosis?
Maybe her parents and teachers don't understand her?
Maybe there are poor role models at home?

Don't punish her. Give her a treat. Distract her.
Don't bother about the victims,
They can cope.
Maybe suggest they lock their door in future?


Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
A therapist put him together again
He spilled his guts, let out some of the pain

Kintsugi is the Japanese art
Of mending pottery, broken apart
Embrace your flaws and imperfections
We all have failings, with no exceptions


Little Red Riding
Little Red Riding Hood
Was led like a lamb to the slaughter
Just as the ewe from Buttercup Farm
Lost her only daughter

For carnivores love their meat
It's the number one choice to eat
Munch Munch Crunch Crunch
Went the wolf, having child for lunch

So that's how things generally go
The eater and the eaten
Wolf or homo sapiens
Lamb chops with mint to season


Twinkle, twinkle little star
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.

A star's a giant ball of gas, hydrogen, a starry mass
Helium and other stuff, like an astro powder puff
The sun is our nearest star isvit and it's au revoir


My Poems like Visitors
My poems like visitors.
They don't get many

They can wait years in libraries,
In Oxfam shops, down the back of sofas

My poems don't ask for much
Just to share their lines with strangers
Who may or may not like them

What will the reader make of them?
I walk past the names of dead writers
Famous in their own lands,
Unknown in others.

Why write then?
Not for fame, which lasts a millisecond
Not for celebrity which is a tawdry thing
But just to release the thoughts
That build and build like a dam
Desperate to find release


Reverie
First, lie in the foetal position
Close your eyes, let the world wash over
Restore the past, reawaken the scenes
Of meadows drenched in clover

Dip your toe in the waters of childhood
The Muick, the Dee, the Gairn
Where forget-me-nots grace Highland lochs
And the burns that froth round cairns

Breath air from the home of eagles
Where red deer run on the bens
And the mist rolls in on silver wings
And ghostifies the glens

So, lie in the foetal position
Close your eyes, let the world wash over
Restore the past, reawaken the scenes
Where memories round you hover


Evening
Evening's when shadows deepen and darken
In the gutters, leaves lie squashed into smush
No owl calls tonight.

At the beach, the North Sea sails away,
Ambiguous tankers are anchored like basking hippos

Here in the room, a collection of elephants
Silently trumpet into the chilly air

Like restless birds, my thoughts fly off
Tamed peregrines
Will they encounter prey?

With age, they fly
In ever diminishing circles


I should have been a Cloud
I should have been a cloud
Always on the move
Anchored to nothing
With birds for neighbours,
Dropping out and in

I should have been a cloud
Nebulous, pinned to nothing
A nimbus being, dropping
My breath on the earth
Bringing dew to the meadows

I should have been a cloud
Floating in the earth's troposphere

I could morph into a dragon, a waterfall, a tree
I could morph into a fire, a phoenix, a bracelet


Things I Know (3)
Courage is a wrench tightening a flame
Beauty is a pearl strand of tears
Friendship is as comforting as a horse
Patience is watching corn grow into its ears
Honesty is a road with no banditti
Honesty is as clean as a new oiled clock
Insanity walks out of pictures smiling
Love is a two way street
Envy is a cow watching a bee
Evil is poisoned confetti
Hate is a wasp in a chip pan
Talent is a Chinese cracker, a blank slip

o glitterin quartz
Fur ae cheil's bravery


Fragments of a life
This is a broken fragment of my childhood,
Though memories are dream and shadow
I had a field day in my summer Highland home

Every day was a carnival in the woods
Over the bridge the warm road led to the loch
Oh, didn't I ramble free as a sprig of thistledown?
Oh didn't my heart sing with the soaring falcon?

My mother was a church going woman
The wooden eagle gripped the lectern tight
With its cruel claws. The pew was hard and cold

My father's church was the mountains
The moors, the airy acres of sky
We'd walk and make a sofa of the moss
I would bound like a leveret, shoeless
Ranging the timeless hills

My parents were middle aged when I was born
The angel of death hung around like a bad smell
When would he come? Would he come before I'd grown?

Every night I prayed for my summer home
When the stars filled the frosty windows of the town

I loathed the salt caress of the city's shore
The mushroom clouds of its waves were storm heavy

I am old now. No words come from the other side
I am a hare, my form is a creaky bed
But under my skin I'm a leveret
Ranging the timeless hills