English Poems (The Witnessing) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Id

I am your id, Freud's bogie-man
Lift off the lid of your skull cap
And up I jump, an imp, a rake
For all things bad I take the rap.

Your lust runs riot? It's my fault
I am Apocalypse unleashed
I am to blame, the randy id
I do not bow to rule nor priest

I'd ravish all things with a pulse
I'd steal the last crust from the poor
I am the id, your shadow-side
A sloth, a brute, the Devil's spoor


Sports Shoe Trends

Street appeal- they're image makers
Lace-ups a stitch-up? Sport, or game?
Adidas, Puma, Nike, Reebok
They bleed you dry, top range brand name

Soles, heels, uppers, forward thrust
Global uniform, velcro
Shock absorbers. Upper Crust
Sweat shop labour on skid row


The Pig's Defence

I speak the truth before the bench
And not to save my bacon
That swineherd who I trampled on
Deserves your condemnation

He called me porky chops, old ham
An fit for nought but rashers
He mooned at me, showed his behind
The lowest kind of flasher.

He claimed I stank, (foul calumny)
Beat me to make me dance
My kinsmen, sirs, seek truffles out
For the high Kings of France

He said I was a bristle-brush
A wormy tub of lard
A gammon hoard, a filthy hog
I took these insults hard

I share the genes of deity
The Golden Boar's blood
Runs through me, loved in ancient times
By Freyr, the Viking God

That swineherd's nose is in the trough
He robs his master blind
Male chauvinist, and gluttonous
It's him should be confined

If pigs could fly, then I expect
I'd join the swine on high
But I will reappear again
As sausages and pie


The Witnessing
(Based on Witness Accounts to the Knock Apparition,21 August 1879)

Witness 1
I saw the vision on that August night
The Blessed Virgin, Saints Joseph and John
Their eyes too bright for me to gaze upon
They were mute statues from unearthly spheres,
I filled with wonder at the sight I saw
It so unmanned me I knelt down in tears.

What would life be without its mysteries?
A dreamless sleep, dry dust, a scentless flower

Witness 2
The Blessed Virgin Mary's hands were lifted,
Her eyes turned up to heaven, sweet Paragon
The night was dark and raining, but the scene
Was plain as daylight in the noonday sun.

It was pitch dark, the rain was falling heavy
And yet there was not one single drop of wet
Upon those figures clothed in snowdrop white

What would life be without its mysteries?
A dreamless sleep, dry dust, a scentless flower

Witness 3
The altar had no linens, candles, gold
Above the altar, resting, was a lamb,
Fronting the western sky.

I saw no cross or crucifix, but round the lamb
Were golden stars, all pure and luminous

Witness 4
I came along the west side of the church,
I saw the figures clearly,
Full, distinct

What would life be without its mysteries?
A dreamless sleep, dry dust, a scentless flower

Witness 5
I saw a crown upon the Virgin's brow
The night came on, so very wet and dark.
A light was shining round the likenesses
Though it was raining, all of them were was dry.

Witness 6
I left the peat load on my ass's back.
It stood there, beast-like, braying
I joined some others, running to the site
People were there before us. Some were praying,

The figures were round as if they were alive;
I walked up near; and one old woman there
Went straight ahead, embraced the Virgin's feet
Nothing filled her hands but empty air

Upon the altar stood an eight week lamb
Behind the lamb a large cross on the altar
Above, I felt great wings fast-fluttering
Around the Lamb I saw bright angels hover
What would life be without its mysteries?
A dreamless sleep, dry dust, a scentless flower

W itness 7
When I arrived I kissed the Virgin's feet
Felt nothing touch my lips but the cold wall