Sheena Blackhall Poems

James VI
A dysfunctional family set up by any standards.
His parents were cousins. His father, Henry
Had his mother's secretary murdered before her eyes
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Dementia
Dementia never has a kind conclusion
There is no magic cure, no healing dose
It twists the brain, tricks memories and emotions
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The Cat
The cat enters the household soon or late
Warmth, food and comfort is our homing bait
She often brings a furtive trophy back
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Sheep number 36
I must say, I can't complain
About my living conditions
The master provides me with grass
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In the Maths Class
In the maths class
I was an air head
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The Doll's House
It took him months of work,
Squeezed into his little time
Between end of work and sleep
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Winter
Oot in the wids, spitters o sleet faa doon
The yowdendrift gaithers in banks o snaa
Kent lanscapes droon
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Ballet buns twist stray childish locks into shape
Flamingo legs of the young, the pink, and the pretty
Flex within pumps, and leotards and tutus
Pirouetting behind the curtain
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Ruminations
Before I'm pitched into the grave
I want to revisit lupins by the Dee
I want to savour lilac in a lane
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How many steps to yesterday?
To days of sun and clover?
Where is the map to show the way
To restart life fresh over?
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