Mary Scheurer - Sheherazade

Scheurer LE P&W Vol 6 Nov-Dec 2025

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Live Encounters Poetry & Writing 16th Anniversary Volume Six
November- December 2025

Sheherazade, poems by Mary Scheurer.

Sheherazade

A willing suspension of disbelief.

The Earth is flat. At least that’s one version,

battered by mallets to a thin paper pulp

fine as tissue paper, holes and rips appearing

faster than lies and confusion can be spread.

It used to be round, (the other account)

as Aristotle found centuries ago, or as Magellan

confirmed when he sailed past the edge and didn’t

fall off.

Now it resembles a Persian rug, yet stripped of

its enchanting and well-woven designs.

God knows what has been swept underneath –

a flying carpet even Aladdin can’t control.

To save ourselves from becoming unhinged

we cling to the fringes so we may delay the fall.

Scheherazade spins many yarns to her sultan

charms him into sparing her life. Such skill,

such thrilling cliff-hangers every night. He waits

with bated breath for every next chapter.

Here, on our flat/round Earth, confused, though

far from spell-bound, we dread each coming episode;

we may never know the end of the story,

better that way perhaps.

Residue

Fossilised nests of Potter wasps
trace graceful patterns
as we wander along the coastal path.
These insects, now extinct here,
leave their mark, so not completely gone.
We look and wonder.

Below, the sea speaks and gulls cry
as they glide effortlessly above.
Love of the ocean swells and ebbs.
And my father’s voice seeps through spume.

A favourite song:
‘I must go down to the seas again …’
Focus.
‘A wild call and a clear call’
All of it comes back.
In the front room, my sister at the piano;
melody and lyrics etched in memory.

A lone egret

strikingly white against black volcanic rock,
shocks the eye. My father’s hair was light,
eyes pale grey. He aspired to the tones
of some great tenor: Caruso, Gigli and such
yet his form was lean, like the bird’s.
Elegant in spirit, lacking clout, outdone
by feeble heart and lungs,
ever reaching for those sky high notes.

The melody runs on to closing lines:
‘And all I ask is a quiet sleep
And sweet dreams
When the long trick’s over’.

Surf seethes and foams pitilessly.
Time ticks on.

Sing, Teddy

Teddy swims
through veins
melodies charge
bloodstream
Sostenuto

Teddy swims
troubled currents
weathers waves
salt spittle softens
Moderato

Teddy swims
calm strokes
sure to shore
groove soothing
Andante

Teddy swims
smooth, humid
wet words skin
caresses
Glissando

Teddy swims
stabs surface blur
staccato strokes
piercing
Pizzicato

Teddy swims
hastening pace upbeat
brace heartbeats
race the tempo, chase it
Crescendo

Teddy swims
think of him
ever bear-hugging
back
Mancando

Teddy swims
think of him
drowning not waving
flailing
Fine

Mary Scheurer lives by the Alps and derives immense joy from the astounding nature that surrounds her. A retired Philosophy teacher, she integrates two active poetry groups: ‘Poetry Quartet’ (with Jim Burke, Carolyn Zukowski and Peter Wise) who have read at the Limerick April festival … and ‘The Leman Poets’ whose recent 25th anniversary book – ‘In the Half Light’ was published in summer 2025.