Sheena Blackhall Poems

I am a Child
I am a child
All I can do is yield
Do not allow me to suffer
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My father's song was a brown trout
Leaping from up from a burn

My father's song could squeeze your heart
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A crooked log delivers a straight flame
Belgian's pipe-smoking spectacled writer
Bedded 10,000 women
With the sexual drive of a dozen Errol Flynns
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Have you ever been tossed on the horns of the black bull Guilt?
You're bruised and broken, but no blood's ever spilt…

No final goring is going to let you get off lightly
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Medmenham Abbey housed orgies
Enjoyed by politicians and aristocrats

Built on the site of an early Cistercian abbey
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A thousand years old, Major Oak has stood
A natural wonder of astounding size
The ruling monarch of ancient Sherwood
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I am a blue rectangle
Think sky, in a cramped box
Think no frills convict overalls
Think bluebird road kill
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My cat sighs,
‘I want to be a celebrity
I deserve to have fan letters sent
From Katmandu
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You crossed the bridge too soon
Who would have thought one room
Could hold such pain?
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Sausages, bacon, apples, pizza bread
Food's somehow lost its taste, although I've fed.
What's missing from the small domestic list
Ah, how could I forget?
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