English Poems From Meenstrukk Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Is it worth it?
I'm 74 years old. Is it worth planting a hydrangea?
Is it worth buying a new carpet?
A mattress costs £200 and lasts ten years
Is it worth getting one?
That winter jacket will do me till I die
Is it worth paying return fares on my next holiday?
At 74, time gives me pause for thought.


An Elegy of Sorts
Weep over the graves of criminals
Stuck in Satan's flypaper

Inspect cruelty under the microscope
Maybe the pathology is clear
Maybe sinners should have the best rooms in the cemetery

For some of them, life's a clown,
A Pierrot, its suffering ends
When they take that leap into the void

Will death be like entering a subway,
A tunnel ending in light
Will it be like falling down the throat of a gargoyle
Will I sit on the fence of eternity
Staring blind into the sun?
Will my bones lie beside books like a sour lament
Will I meet my ancestors in the cosmic ether?

Or will I be dormant forever
Along with the tillers of soil
The fighters, lovers and losers under the falling snow


The Day the Tree Came Down
Now, we have a clear view of the moon
Since our resident tree has been evicted

The tenants before us, moved to an old folks' home
Had seen the pine as their dead son's memorial

New brooms sweep clean. Its limbs blocked out the scene
Its resident birds and insects didn't complain
Didn't put in an objection to city planning
Chop chop chop, the shorn pine needles dropping

The air was filled with the heavy scent of resin
Running down the amputated stump
Like blood in a surgical theatre.
Was there guilt? A while the house seemed bare
Greenery gone, replaced by empty air


Long Ago
Long ago the sun shone on the stooks
With cornflower & poppy peeping through
And tiny birds dropped, gleaning the lost seeds
The summer skies were cerulean blue

Long ago the roads were scarce of cars
In hedgerows crickets chirped and starlings nested
Dew sat upon the handle of the scythe
Where on its cull of wayside grass it rested

Long ago, when owl patrolled the night
The badger, snuffling, gruff, came from his sett
The woodland capercaillie, raging bird
Rampaged against trespassers through the wet
And dripping pines where midges danced in clouds
And mosses wrapped old roots in Lincoln shrouds


On the Bucket List
Owning an owl
Lighting a fart
A night of ecstasy in Auchtermuchty
Studying the secret of broccoli
Interviewing a hydrangea
Shaving a cocoanut
Milking a Himalayan mountain goat
Rowing a Celtic coracle
Upon Loch Davan, choppily

Eccentrics
Marlon Brando studied farts
Competed when he peed
With Tony Quinn to see how far
Their urine flew with speed

He planned to harness sparky eels
To reap electric power
He binge ate honeybuns by tons
Chewed a live frog, how queer!


Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson, Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson,14th Baron Berners (1883-1950) composer & eccentric
He dyed his estate doves multiple colours
He kept a pet giraffe
His beer mug played the national anthem
Anything for a laugh

He drove around in his Rolls-Royce car
Wearing a pig's head, by jingo
He tried to teach a dog to fly
By throwing it out of the window

Near Oxford he lived in Faringdon House.
He invited a stallion to tea
His dogs wore pearl necklaces
An eccentric, RIP