SOME POEMS
By Nick Child

Carstairs Disjunction

Clouds run across the light blue wintry sky.
Crows float backwards up the straw-green fields.

The fast train slides to an eerie stop around the Carstairs bend.
Nothing moves inside the highest and most clinical of fences.

Then an opening window flashes the sun.
Again.  Again, again – a dozen times

The darkest lightest semaphore escapes.


February 1997
On the way to work in Motherwell




Head and Heart

A vast barn of a lecture hall
echoes soporifically with
the soothing amplified monotone
of the careful English woman.

The congregated listener slips gently off
her academic content
and onto her mature young face,
golden skin, gold earrings
and thin gold necklace dangling
over long black starry dress,
lapel weighed down by tiny mike.

From the giant speakers on the wall
a constant tinkling pulse
of ice cubes in a glass
is noticeably not noticed.

The distant listener hears
her heightened heart beats
as closely as the clicking
technology and necklace on her breast.


September 1987
Gill Gorell Barnes plenary at AFT Conference


Restless Orphan

Late in the day
      the corridors still
           rang
               with forlorn repeated bursts

of questing scurried steps,
       an endless door to door to door search
            for contact,
                 a meaning in his life

At last
       hope fading
              he composed himself
                     a poem.

But each word he opened
        echoed
              with absence.
                       
                      With their absence


November 1993




Crystal Titanic

With their ritual love cuddle
            his mother'd gone out
leaving unexpected minutes –
            time to admire
the jewel of a present
            he'd given her a few days before.

With precious saved money
            he'd eventually chosen
the bottled glass galleon,
            all crystalline fragility.

Wrapped safe in dry-dock packing
            until launched on her birthday
the ship stood becalmed
            in the open to see.

Tenderly the giant
            held the ship in its wood-waves,
settling down to befriend
            the miniature crew.

But the ocean of life
            holds more in its hands.

Swirled on by envy
            big brother fate
took a tilt
            at what he had found.

A treacherous blow and
            the ship slipped aground.

Preserving its tragedy
            the bottle survived –
pure translucent love
            all splintered inside.


August 1992




Accidental Affair

"This seat taken?"
"No," head shaken.

I like her looks.
We read our books.
Match careful poses,
seem to take dozes.

Gaze at spring hillsides,
sway past express glides.
Taking odd chances,
slip one-way glances.

Watch long-denimed flexion,
glimpse warmed complexion?
She touches her lips,
I straighten my hips.

No word, no contact
in our silent contract.

The day-dream develops –
nudged on the train gallops.
But still we are doubtful
how far this is mutual.

Hours pass resolutions,
marked flashing through stations.

Staring at the scenery,
eyes mirrored have seen me!?
Again it's not certain,
the real or drawn curtain.

Give up in confusion.
Slump back disillusioned.

Prefer private reverie.
Write out in my diary
a much fuller version
with sensual insertion.

Then head for the snack bar
to calm thirst and hunger.

Nothing to say
for the rest of the way.

Walked home when we got there.
She went off somewhere.

Relaxed, ate and read,
unpacked, went to bed.

Got up for the diary.
Read through my story –
Sat bolt up like lightning:
a line of strange writing.

Penned neatly under:
her name and phone number!


April 1989




Fountain Pen

Working words
the fountain dries up.

Olive black liquid
quenches thirst
flowing meaning again
into letters
forever remembered
on the white sheet
of life.


June 1992





Want So Much More To Have Less

I wish things had worked nicer,
            Thank God we’d the mess;
I should have done more,
            I’m glad I did less;

I’m upset to see /
            It’s great that we held,
                        So much pain and distress.

I’m calm and engaged,
            I’m cut off and disturbed;
I’ve had less burden to carry,
            Buried too deep inside;

Just a little mishap
            Drove in lives of hurt,
                        Too hard and unfair to do what decide.

If it’s all the same to you,
            Each one is ours shared;
Let’s not agree to differ,
            I’ll keep mine you keep yours;

Scramble controlling weakness,
            Project to contain,
                        Cut by breakfast and train-times and doors.

Withdrawn cool defences,
            Offends outrage returns;
Lashings of sympathy,
            Whip envious concern;

Didn’t ask you to care,
            Didn’t care to ask,
                        But I long for my turn.

I didn’t arrive, get met or meant,
            Didn’t leave, I got sent,
Wasn’t my job, wasn’t there,
            Worried away to myself,

Need it sorted here,
            Not so close,
                        I’ve to work it out somewhere else.

It’s great we’re all stronger,
            But I wish it was me;
I want more, to go faster,
            And less, better slow;

Be in touch in the meantime,
            Well, I might write or phone,
                        I know I’m not sure what I know!


November 1994
After DIY family therapy weekend with sisters.




Community Transport

Two pairs of women talking
        board
             the lowly public transport bus.

Their lively eyes and gentle faces
         take in
              each others chat.

The motherly bus brims pregnant
         with those completely loved
              since their first inside ride.

Love infectious
          heals us lacking
               busily deprived.


November 1996




Forget Me Not

The loveliest garden
        grows over
                the gardener’s
                         buried secret
                                darkest deed.

Endlessly weeding out
          the forget-me-nots.


July 1997




Separate Travellers

In expressionless
concentration
a heavily set youth
sits stock still and stares
over his bulging black sports bag
a well-stoked boiler
on the table before him
in the swish swaying carriage
of a modern express –
a motionless motion
my older reflection
exactly shares.

Deceleration draws back today’s curtain of noise
on an unslackening clacking and rhythmical hiss –
the precise sound of yesterday’s steam train in spate –
leaks unwittingly out of his black-stoppered ears.

Pressed hard up, now deafens
Far memory soft flows.


26th January 1998          





An Eye for an Eye and Love

Another eye op another day inert in bed
Alert ears fly on the walls of ward life
Huge storms and recessions halt life outside
But NHS staff get through where humans fear to tread

Skilled teams perform their daily miracles of sight
Here's a late emergency addition to their long list
A dazed youth caught in the crossfire of some frontline brawl
A thrown glass cut full across his face and eye

Warm care and no judgement from the admitting staff
Contrasts with a taxpayer parent raging in my head
Inconsiderate learn your lesson take the NHS for granted
Hell mend you, not these earthy angels of the welfare state

He comes round to the night nurse's lively care and real respect
Perhaps the first kind treatment ever in his life?
No next of kin or friend to call to chum him home

Odd he's not upset - just wants to know about his eye
Fortunes of war perhaps revenge or compensation?

Later she brings the surgeon's notes to read them out
More ethical and more likely to repair both mind and body
Than my silent rant that now turns to storm
At bankers bagging billions that bugger up the world
With cuts and payback's served on everyone but they
Who're blind to real worth unnoticed in the night

This quality of nursing is not strained
It flows freely as a priceless bonus for us all
Fair wages a foundation of more personal reward.

Next day he's aged by 20 wiry years
His concern not lessons learnt or gratitude for care
But fags and an ambulance to taxi him back to what?

My ignorant anger swings round on him again
... But still an eye for an eye is not as good as love.


9th December 2011
In Princess Alexandra Eye Pavilion



Re-Creation

I like my fluffy bunny
My fluffy bunny-bun
My fluffy bunny's funny
We have a lot of fun.

My bunny's such a honey
I call her honey bun
I lie on mummy's tummy
With my bunny on my tum.

We lie down when it's sunny
Puffed with running fun
Fluffy bunny on my tummy
And me on mummy's tum.


Summer 2012
For our grandchildren