English Poems From Hard Listening Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Braemar
You are a disastrous honeymoon
The groom, hungover, the bride
Tossing a coin. Heads, to stay
Tails, to cut her losses and walk away
Unseasonal weather, portent of troubled days

You are a Games Day
A man doubled up in pain
On the back seat of a bus
Cut in two by the pain of duodenal ulcer
His lips, white rimmed with medicine
While over the field beneath a tartan canopy
The Royal Party cheered the kilted heavies

You are a boy with sparkling eyes
Fishing a flat iron out of the River Clunie
A piece of Victoriana in his hands

You are a trail of dead flies
Leading along the road near Invercauld
From a poisoned eagle
Felled, with all that feed on her
By person or persons unknown- the coward's way
You are your Gaelic glens
Lying in the arms of their language
Sun glinting through your larches
Sending its golden boats on your burnished waves


Wedding Presents
The Title of Laird/Lady to Dunan's Castle / Chaol Ghleann (scottishlaird.com)
A slice of Deeside air
A box of Glen Eye ripples
A carriageful of heather
A kettle of Clunie salmon
An earful of Cromar barley
A lake, by special delivery, full of stars
A Quaich of happy ever afters
A tree on Holy Island (reception@holyisland.org)
An eraser for conjugal arguments
A bottle of midge death spray
A bucket of love restorer
A pair of rose tinted glasses
A bowl of perpetual rainbows


Soldier Brother: for Charles Middleton Ritchie
In Korea, in Malaya
By the harbour of Hong Kong
Powerful heat, buzz of mosquitoes
Sampan, bamboo and sarong

War memories of jungle green
With his rifle on his back
Wading rivers full of leeches
Legs deep bitten, scarred and black

For a shower, monsoon rains
Under jungle canopy
Foes concealed by foliage
Malaria & dysentery

Ordered once to guard the dead
The one man living. Silent cries
Stopped in blood soaked uniforms
Looked at him with sightless eyes

Soldier's lives are never easy
Bite into the veteran's soul
Ever after, in the background
Horror pictures constant roll

The Crush
When I was 14 I saw a cameo of the young Benjamin Disraeli. I was immediately smitten, and cannily removed the likeness from, I'm ashamed to admit, a library book. I went on to read The Life of Benjamin Disraeli 1846-1855 by William Flavelle Moneypenny & George Earl Buckle. I went on to read some of his novels, Coningsby, Endymion, Sybil, Tancred & Vivian Gray.

Julia loved the Rolling Stones,
Mick Jagger's rubber hips
She liked the flop of his dishmop hair
And his mouth, two greasy chips

Janice adored John Lennon
But McCartney above the rest
First in the queue for their nearest gig
In the front row she felt blessed

My idol was Ben Disraeli
With eyes of jetty black
Sensitive, handsome, clever
All the virtues in one pack

Victoria admired his chutzpah
He wasn't a great team player

Bought a wedge of shares in Suez
Disraeli, the Gladstone slayer

The Land of Cockaigne Pieter Brueghel the Elder 1567)
Monks beat abbots
Nuns show their bums
Skies rain cheese
Like giant crumbs

Nobody works
They lie in the grass
Dream/ mead-drunk
Or stoned perhaps?

Not much changes
Hash or skunk
Man zones out
In oblivion sunk

At my Daughter's Gym, I am
A jangle of worry beads
A square faced clock
Blue veins in gnarled skin
An Earl Grey teabag leeching into water
A sparkling wave in the pool
The bubbles in a bottle of coca cola
An exercise bike not going anywhere
The condiments mustered in a shady corner
A phone screen blank as Lazarus
I am one & All from the HP sauce to the spoon