Nigel's Poetry

Leaving, leaving, my life is full of leaving, moving, moving, from town to town & all around,
My life is full of moving.

London to Rutland, then to hot desert sands, from England’s shores to Middle East lands,
moving & leaving, living & learning, all the time my heart was yearning.
For what exactly, I knew not then, when we are young we yearn to be old,
and in our later years we wish we had not been so hurried to grow old!

At the age of 9 & 10, we should not witness the death of men!
Home again from Aden’s heat, to feel English soil beneath my feet,
Leaving school at age 15 to join the army in North York’s dales, trained in summer heat & winter gales.
Leaving, moving, posted on, should have been Deutschland but I was wrong!

Turks & Greeks could not agree to share an island side by side,
British troops manned the divide.

Moving, leaving, home again, back to British wind & rain.
Hubble, bubble, toil & trouble, Northern Irelands now all rubble!
Foot patrols through drab grey streets, where women & kids shout, swear & scream.
A soldier’s nightmare, a terrible dream!

They say time heals all bodily scars,
But what happens in our minds eye at night, when we wake up screaming and turn on the light!
Is it true? Or is it false?
Just take the pills, put on a brave face, and chase those tormented memories from this place.

Fly your dreams high, with every endeavour,
live and love to the full regret nothing ever!
Sitting quietly in the dark,
I think of days long since gone by,
Of winter snows & starry skies.
I live, within my summer dreams,
Warm hazy days,
Walks through the meadow & in the woods,
And making love by babbling streams.
As the darkness descends, I cry,
Don't forget,
To fly your dreams, high.

Raining,
Steady, heavenly down pour,
Soaking all present.
"Attention", Salute, the rifles fired, skyward,
the job unpleasant,
the coffin lowered, handles shining,
box of lacquered wood.
Prayers mumbled, eyes lowered down,
Priest surveys the soldiers stood around.
"Slow March", leaving, comrade left forever,
sleep softly now,
no more orders, no more endeavour.

A place alone, inside, dark corners,
Tucked safely away.
I show no fear, I give nothing, freely,
They will not break me!
Down the corridors,
Echoing footfalls to where they take me!
Retreat further, use the open space within,
The soft, fond, happy memories,
The summer of my life,
Faces, friends, resorts, places,
I see my children, I see my wife. I cry, silently,
No shouting out, No frenzied screaming.
Who will know, who will care,
who will see me passing, stop and stare,
A thing so precious, don't be mistaken,
FREEDOM, Cry for Freedom! Mine has been taken!

"CQ, CQ", I hear it now as clear as day,
immediately I am young again!
Messages and chatter amongst the airwaves clatter,
The electronic pips, rattles, dits and dahs all prattle,
INT QRK?
Read my signals now! What strength is my signal?
Images rush through my head, got to act fast the yeoman said.
QFW, QRM or was it QRN?
I cannot quite remember, what length is my runway?
Is it the enemy jamming?
Or is it just natural noise?
I think my head will explode,
I'm going into sensory overload!
"Are you ok sir?", said the checkout girl,
"Yes" I said distractedly,
"I just thought I heard a noise on the tannoy!"
"I suppose, though," I muttered,
It was just a blast from the past!

How did it happen for you?
Just how did those manic feelings creep up on you?
Did they rush in and catch you unaware?
Was it driving to work each day for the daily grind?
Sweating, palpitations, hard to swallow, chest pains,
but of course it's only in the mind!
The fear, of others knowing, your senses seem to be slowing.
The clock, ticks by so slowly, hands trembling, people glaring at you!
Why do you feel the whole world is surreal?
You are ill, but refuse to believe it, after all you cannot see it,
If it was your leg that was broken you could show the whole world,
and of course they wouldn't doubt, that you could not get about!
But cynicism is what you find, when the problem is in your mind!
Fear and ignorance pervade our society, just as surely as racism, or any other "ism",
If your illness happens to be of the mental type,
then you are subject to the hype, the misunderstanding,
and the stigma of the bigoted uninformed.
To them you are MENTAL,
a weirdo, psycho, schizo, barmy, nutty, fruity or just missing a few slates!
BUT, ask yourself this, "what is normal?" and who decided that it was?
At some point in time it is possible that we all may suffer, the indignity and pain,
Of being labelled a "nutter",
All because of the strain,
Within our brain!

I stand and stare into the abyss,
the strands of my life unravel before me.
My life a novel, or so it seems,
so many almost's, if's, why's, maybes and should have.
This path I tread, I believe I've trodden it many times,
Once or twice I wanted to change course, but never did,
Ah, but then, there you go,
We trudge wearily on and accept our load.
One or two times, I almost, well nearly, anyway,
But, what the hey!
So I continued and still do,
destined always,
To be,
The nearly man!