Preparing to Fly 2: Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Amangst the Trees Three Birds War Steerin

Amangst the trees three birds war steerin

Deil the feather tae their name

Three wee fledglins raxxin, skreichin:

Cheep cheep, ma, wir wymes are teem!

Gie's a wirm, a hornygollach,

A sappy slug, a forkietail,

An emerteen, a furry moch,

The squashed intimmers o a snail.

Inbye a hoose, three bairns war steerin

Bed-time, bit wi nae remeid,

Three wee bairnies, tchyauvin, skreichin,

Greetin fur a buik tae read.

Stories steek their een at nicht

Dragons, feys, in widlans deep

Fin the meen shines in the derkness

Stories pave the wye tae sleep.

© Sheena Blackhall, 2013

Preparing to Fly 1: Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Robin’s Nest

Guid day noo bonnie Robin, an whit dae ye hae here?

A nest I’ve bigged wi muckle care frae screivins far an near.

There are three eggies in thon nest. Whit bides inbye each shell’s

A hairst o wirds by seannachies an bards frae Ayr tae Yell.

The first egg hauds a rowth o poems wad brak yer hairt tae hear,

The secunt hauds a core o buiks o poets an their lear,

The third egg hauds a magic cloud, kens aa that ye micht speir.

An I maun guaird thon sky-blue eggs frae tod, or piercin thorn:

A kintra’s barderie needs a hame fur littlins yet unborn.

© Sheena Blackhall, 2013

Free to Fly!

The book sculptor's back and we're excited! Those of us who spend our days (and nights!) on Twitter have been following another trail in Edinburgh since May.

On May 16, a mysterious box containing a beautiful birdhouse, holding a nest with three eggs, arrived at the Scottish Poetry Library. We could share the excitement of opening the parcel via the SPL's twitter feed. I've collected the series of tweets here.

On June 16, Leith Library received a nest with three wee fledglings - the eggs had hatched! You can read the full story on their blog.

Then last week, Edinburgh UNESCO City of Literature opened a parcel containing a travel trunk. Inside the trunk was a bird, a map and a tiny copy of Daphne du Maurier's The Birds. A helmet and goggles for our aviator were in the trunk too 'to provide some protection throughout journey'. The full story is here.

This set of three - which the sculptress called 'Preparing to Fly' - hints at something wonderful to come, as the birds start their journeys from Edinburgh. You can follow her on Twitter @_freetofly_ where she's sharing messages about the importance of libraries and other 'special places'.

Cooried Doon

Cooried Doon

Whan littlins coorie doon at nicht

Tae dream o whistlebinkies

An steek their trauchelt eenies ticht

An sook their thooms an pinkies

In shaddalan, the dwaums are thrang

Wi gee-gaws bricht an skinklin

Wi pirates, coos, an skelps o ships

Wi feys throw lamplicht winkin

An whan the shaddas merch aroon

Dumb sodjers in the nicht

The littlins hunker doon like tykes

An huddle ooto sicht

Syne mornin cams, it’s time tae rise

They lowp up hudderie heidit

Bit watch them play… uneirdly  fiers

Frae nicht are roon them spreidit

A bairn alane has friens unseen

Ye’re ower auld tae meet

Fur Bairnhood is the seelie time

The Warld’s at their feet!

Sheena Blackhall

Lang John on a Deid Man's Chest

Lang John on a Deid Man’s Chest

The starnies up abune leave weel alane
I reenge the  Muckle Furth in search o gowd
I skelp aff ithers’ heids wi ma swack blade
Gie ilkie bluidy corp a wattery shroud

Foo is it that ma blaik hairt lowps an stoons
At clink o siller, glisk o gems an pearls
An gars me hunt until the warld’s eyn
Aa treisur? At its touch, each finger dirls

Fa kens? Some fowk contentit, bide at hame
Bake breid, clip claith. I hae a derker goal
Ma weird’s tae sail aneth a reiver’s flag
For I hae fire an brimsteen in ma soul

Sae here I staun, the bairnie’s bogieman

Lang John, wi parrot an a cripple’s stick
Castin a shadda derk as puddock bree

Wi bling an scars, hale pirate’s rickmatick

An wis I bred tae be Auld Clootie’s fier?
Or wis’t a soorness in ma mither’s wyme?

Wis’t Chaunce or Fate, or Natur grew me coorse?

I neither ken nor care, I’m thirled tae crime!

Sheena Blackhall

Niverlan

‘Do you know, Peter asked, why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.’  J.M.Barrie

 

Niverlan

Niverlan’s fur the bladded bide,

Trapped in their youth foraye

Ower feart tae step intae the licht

In the Big Fowk’s warld ootbye

Condemned tae dwall in the hynie back

Far crocodiles snap an rear

Fit malagaroozin spyled their weird

In the mists o yesteryear?

Ower feart tae raxx oot o the cage

Is’t better the hurt they ken

Than the fear o somethin waur than coorse

In the hames o grown up men?

Sheena Blackhall