7 Poems Inspired By The Paintings Of Jodie Le Bigre Poem by Sheena Blackhall

7PoemsInspired by Jodi Le Bigre paintings

Communion of the Geese (1)
Each goose is bellied like the Ark of the Covenant
Rattling with corn dispensed by the priestly goose-wife
All joined together in a strange communion

Each turbulent throat is raucous as the tower of Babel
Each voice honks out like the horns in a jam of cars

The goose wife's head square's pointed like a beak
Her wrinkled stockings concertina down
Like a snake's skin,shed and crumpling

Everything's the colour of farmyard muck
The colour of khaki, Flanders-soft and sticky


A Lonesome Place (2)
A thrush stands, beaked like a plague doctor
Observing the tight-rope walk from Life and Death

A woman in the first grip of sickness
Bares a leg, to cool the fever that burns

Behind her, stands a line of seven corpses blue and empty
As that of a crab's cast off carapace

Four trees like a sylvan firing squad
Look down on the voiceless dead

Two ghouls green with putrescence
Sink into the graveyards juices

The thrush's breast has spills
Like those from an old man's spoon
Tsc-Tsc- Tis sick she is, he chirrups
The fever victim's hair flows upwards like a flame


Feathers (3)
A hotterel o spurgies stoor dookin
Feathered baas o broon
Wenchin an chirpin, a clanjamfrey o clishmaclavers

Like berries on the byle
Hotchin fur houghmagandie

They hae drapt frae the oxters o clouds
Wee flee-ups, pynty nebbit, on birrin wings
Newsin, sklaikin, fechtin
Argybargyincarnapcious towe-rags
Stappin their beaks wi wirms
Hornygollachs an flechs
An vauntie's ony lass wi a keekin glaiss

Common as pee-the-beds, spurgies
Bit couthie, couthie an braw


The Citadel, Aberdeen (4)
The Citadel's fur the saved, the gweed, the godly
The merket cross could turn tae a merrimatanzie
Far life birls roon, a hotterin broth o sowels

The herbour, the coort, the howfs
Skail oot their fowk tae jyne the mirled melee

Seagulls are reined tae a coach load
Aimed at the lift, tae the cloudy mansions o Heiven

Ablow, the damned, the tint
The chauncers, the orrals, the coorse are birsslin in hell

The scunnersome pit o sulphur
Kent bi Hieronymous Bosch
Hauds Auld Nick's forkie-tailed deevilocks

On Setterdays, snod wee quinies
Wi ballet buns an tutus
Lowp like glegs in the Citadel
An volunteers in the café raise siller fur causes
The seagulls wyte fur the deid
Fa've dane least ill
Tae flee in their feathery easy-jet tae Kingdom com

Up frae the crackit cassies
The stank o sulphur whyles wauchts ben the wynds


Lizzie's Dother (5)
(She wis Mindit on aa the Ither Quines at she'd held the same wye)

The howdie hauds a sonsie quine
Baloo baloo ma dearie
The howdie's braid in airm an girth
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

Sae mony bairns she's ruggit oot
Baloo baloo ma dearie
As tunes upon a piper's flute
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

The howdie's humfy-backit kind
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Nae sensual tae a suiter's mind
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

Bit mithers in their agony
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Are gled the howdie's skill tae pree
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

An as she showds the newest quine
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Betimes her een drap tears o brine
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

She's ne'er bin coortit neth the meen
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Ay suppit frae the spinster's speen
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

Tho first tae hear each babby's greet
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Her briests wi milk wir niver weet
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

She ay maun haun the babby back
Baloo baloo ma dearie
The mither's gains the howdie's lack
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

La Rencontre (6)
Picturs in the peat rikk
Castles in the flame
Viaducts an factories
A warlock's ghaistie hame

Did trowies gaither kinnlin
Tae pit the magic there?
The rikk gaes furlin up the lum
Some like Rapunzel's hair

Granny lat me see them
The dauncers bricht an reid
Bit the magic left the ingle
Fin the auld wife deid


Skeleton Faimly (7)
Rick -ma-tick clack the skeletons' banes
A faimly ye can see throw at a glisk
The bairn is wyvin up at the meen
A vratch, a nickum, a scaffold o fite

Nae intimmers tae wye them doon
Nae wyme, nae puddens, nae hairt nae een
Nae need tae keech, cowk, pee or pyocher

The skeleton faimly's pure as Norseman's runes
Makkin their ain percussion
They daunce tae their ain tunes