Sheena Blackhall

Gold Star - 4,859 Points (18/8/1947 / Aberdeen)

Sheena Blackhall Poems

121. The Tears Of Childhood 2/14/2010
122. Nine Monsters At A Party 2/14/2010
123. Four Small Ducklings Enter An Equation 2/14/2010
124. The Pieta Of Egg And Twig 2/14/2010
125. Dark Night Of The Trees 2/14/2010
126. Sanctuary Wood 2/14/2010
127. A Postcard From England 2/14/2010
128. The Saddhu 2/14/2010
129. Preparing To Meet The Minotaur 2/14/2010
130. Sleep 2/14/2010
131. Train Journey 2/14/2010
132. The Story In The Corner 2/14/2010
133. Stories 2/14/2010
134. The Colonel's Widow Stating Her Opinion 2/14/2010
135. Elephant Ride, Jaipur 2/14/2010
136. Taj Mahal 2/14/2010
137. Rickit-Ticki-Tavi, Jaipur 2/14/2010
138. The River Kwai: For The 2nd Battalion Gordon Highlanders (Scots) 2/14/2010
139. July In Arlington 2/14/2010
140. Washington Interlude 2/14/2010
141. On The Nile 2/14/2010
142. Felucca Ride 2/14/2010
143. At The Nubian Village 2/14/2010
144. Lost Property 2/14/2010
145. The Yellow Time 2/14/2010
146. Two Tankas 2/14/2010
147. Pinto 2/14/2010
148. Ellen Knight 2/14/2010
149. Traffic Incident, Sri Lanka 2/14/2010
150. Mount Lavinia, Colombo 2/14/2010
151. Kandy: At The Citadel Hotel 2/14/2010
152. In The Botanical Gardens, Kandy 2/14/2010
153. The Walk Of The Temple Tooth Elephant 2/14/2010
154. Solitary Bather (River Maha Oya) 2/14/2010
155. Visiting The Orphanage 2/14/2010
156. Monkey King (At The Buddhist Cave Temple At Dambulla) 2/14/2010
157. In The Tropics (Habarana) 2/14/2010
158. Buddha At The Bodhi Tree (Sri Lanka) 2/14/2010
159. Asian Dog 2/14/2010
160. North Sea Rig 2/14/2010
Best Poem of Sheena Blackhall

Immigrant

I can't imagine dying in this land.
The neighbours here have doors graffiti-red
‘Why are you brown? ' another pupil asked
‘I think because my folks are brown, ' I said

Out on our landing, someone's dumped a bed
I dream in Hindi. I don't understand
The baby words in English in my school book
At games, or dancing, no one takes my hand

I miss the smells of curry, frangipani,
The steaming chai at Delhi's teeming stalls
The cooking fires. I even miss the sewers
The thieving monkeys with their chattering calls

I miss the temple incense, the bright ...

Read the full of Immigrant

Wolf Prints

I write in a cold climate.
There may be a moon,
There may not. There may be snow,
There may not.
I write from need, from no-need.
I write from joy from no-joy.
My words are stones,
Skimming ancient water.
Finned poems,

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