An Angel's Touch
It was Wednesday morning service
in the church next to the school
and Helen sat next to you
in the old wooden pew
her eyes peering
behind her thick lens glasses
at you and she whispered
your mum's meeting my mum
in the street market after school
and then we're going to my house
for a cup of tea
and I can show you
my doll's house
that my dad made
out of an orange box
and it's got lights
and everything
you leaned your head
towards her and said
in a low voice
oh right yes that'll be good
hoping none of your mates
could hear
especially Cogan
who only the other week
threatened to bloody your nose
but he didn't show after school
and she smiled
and you looked at the altar
where the vicar
was lighting candles
and Mrs Murphy
was walking down the aisle
like an aging storm trooper
in her hand knitted cardigan
and brown pleated skirt
Helen whispered
and you can see
the tiny furniture
I've got too
that my mum bought
from a second hand shop
off the market
you looked at her
sitting there
in her grey jumper
and white blouse
and grey skirt
and her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her bright eyes
magnified by the glass lens
and you said
I look forward to it
and she rubbed your hand
with hers
and then looked ahead
at the lighted candles
and sniffed in the incense
in the air and her hand
moved to pick up
a hymn book
and you sensed where
her hand had been
like some angel's touch
as if to bless
well that's what
it seemed like to you
more or less.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
In Mrs Clarke's Wake
Mrs Clarke pushed
her battered bassinet
between market stalls
not listening
to the stallholder's
shouts and calls
Helen walked behind her mother
as told holding your hand
So I know where you are
Mrs Clarke had said
you sensed
Helen's small hand
in yours
her seven year old skin
touching your
seven year old flesh
her thin fingers
encircling yours
We'll see if they've got
a school skirt
for you here
her mother said
turning back her head
Helen nodded
and you noticed
Helen's enlarged eyes
behind her thick lens
spectacles
searching her mother's
large behind waddling on
stopping now and then
beside stalls
picking up clothes
searching for a skirt or dress
grey and the right size
Helen whispered to you
putting her head
close to yours
Rice pudding for tea
when we get home
with red jam
and sugar too
if you want
and she smiled
and you said shyly
That's good
because I'm starving
she looked at your hand
in hers and said
Then we can play
mums and dads
and my dolls
can be our family
her mother stopped
and picked up a skirt
and held it up
to the light
then held it against
her daughter's waist
judging for size
and you watched
her mother's hands
red with washing
and cleaning
thinking and gauging
the size and cost
as you studying
Helen's hand in yours
like a soul lost.
poem by Terry Collett
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After School Tea.
Mother said
you were to go back
to Mrs Clark's house
for tea after school
and she would pick
you up later
after work
and so when
the bell went
for the end
of the school day
you went with Mrs Clark
and her daughter Helen
for tea and Mrs Clark
talked all the way
to her house
her words rough
as hewn stones
going over your head
to which you just nodded
or shook your head
and when you arrived
at the house
which smelt
of past dinners
and washing drying
and the baby's nappies
she said
What would you like for tea?
Bread and butter
bread jam
bread and Bovril
or dripping?
and how about
a large mug of tea?
Helen said
I'm having bread and jam
and a mug of tea
why don't you too?
you said
Yes that will be fine
and shyly sat in a chair
by the window
looking out
at the backyard
where washing hung
on a clothesline
and an old doll's pram
sat rusting by a wall
and Helen came
and sat next to you
in her grey skirt
and off white blouse
and swung her legs
back and forth
under the chair
her white ankle socks
and black scuffed shoes
coming in
and going out
of view
and she said
After tea
I'll show you my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of orange boxes
and as Mrs Clark
made the tea
you sensed Helen's small hand
run along your arm
which set alarm bells ringing
in your head
and a sweating in your palm.
poem by Terry Collett
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Young Traitor
Gran said
you can come with us
to the fair
Janice said
Provided your mum agrees
of course but Gran's
already asked your mum
so it's all right
you stood outside
the school gates
waiting for your mother
to come and pick you up
and so you said
Oh right that'll be good
but you didn't want Helen
to know you were going
to the fair with Janice
and even though
you hadn't planned it
or asked for it
you still felt guilty
about going
with Janice to the fair
and when Helen
came out of school
and stood waiting
next to you
for her mother
you hoped Janice
wouldn't say
anything about it
but Janice just stood there
smiling looking at Helen
as if to say he's going with me
to the fair and you're not
and Helen gazed at Janice
at the same time
putting her hand
near yours
and you could feel
her hand brush
against yours
and then she turned
and looked at you
through her
thick lens glasses
her eyes searching you
like a navigator
looking for a fresh route
to a new world
and Janice moved closer
on your other side
her hand seeking out
a finger to hold
and she said
Look here comes Gran
and she released
your finger and ran
and you stood with Helen
waiting
knowing her hand
was warm and feeling yours
and hoping she couldn't
read minds
or thoughts
or know about the fair
and she said suddenly
giving your hand a squeeze
Here's your mum and mine
let's go meet them
and off you ran
following behind
feeling a sense of betrayal
being a traitor to Helen
in your 7 year old mind.
poem by Terry Collett
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After School Walk
After lessons at junior school
coming down the bricks stairs
Helen said
can I walk home with you?
Sure
you replied
and she set off with you
along St George's Road
the traffic and smoke fumes
setting the scene
she in her school frock
and cardigan
and white ankle socks
beside you in your grey jacket
and grey short trousers
and she said
I don't usually walk home alone
but mum said I can walk home
with you save her coming along
to the school with the other kids
and pram with baby
you took in
her two plaits of hair
and thin framed glasses
with large lens
which made her eyes
larger than they were
her small hands
by her side
a small school bag
over her shoulder
and did you know
Janice likes you?
Her grandmother
told my mother
the other day
after school
but I like you better
do you like me?
she asked
you noticed
she had small white teeth
with a thin brace
along the top
sure I do
you replied
I like Janice too
but you I like more
and she smiled
and put her right hand
in yours and squeezed it
and you smiled
but hoped none
of the other boys around
noticed the hand holding
after all a tough boy
has a reputation to maintain
and as you squeezed
her hand back
clouds darkened
and it started
to piss with rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen Wiped Her Glasses
Helen wiped
her thick lens glasses
with the hem
of her school dress
and you watched
her finger and thumb
move around the glass
in circular motion
Can you see much
without your glasses?
you asked
she looked up at you
and said
Not much
you for instance
are like a small tree
without leaves
with thin branches
hanging down
you smiled and saw
as she lifted the hem
a glimpse of thigh
white as one kept
out of sun and light
But what do I look like
with your glasses on?
you asked
looking at her face
and eyes that squinted
quite naked
without the specs
A boy who's cheeky
but often shy
especially around girls
and their blue eyes
and dark curls
and she giggled
and dropped
the hem of
her dress
and put her glasses on
and her eyes enlarged
and gazed at you
taking in
your unkempt hair
and school boy grin
and at that moment
as she stood stifling
her giggle with one
small hand
you sensed a love
you neither had before
nor could
in the light of day
and innocence of youth
quite understand.
poem by Terry Collett
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Not Always What We Seek
After you'd got on
the school bus
and sat down
in one of the side seats
Jane said
who did you fight with
in the playground
lunchtime?
Woolgar
you said
he pushed me over
against the wire fence
and I got up
and went for him
she looked disappointed
I didn't think
you could be violent
she said
I'm not usually
but it was an automatic
response to being
pushed over
you said
my daddy said
one should turn
the other cheek
especially if you're a Christian
she said softly
the school bus
started up
and took off down
the school drive
sorry
you said
but the creep
got under my skin
and if you let them
get away with it once
they'll always do it
she gazed at you
then out
of the window
at the passing shops
and buildings
of the town
were you watching?
you asked
yes I saw you
from the girl's playground
she muttered
not looking round
guess it looked
kind of bad
yes it did
she turned
and looked at you
but at least
you don't do it
all the time
she said
and touched
your hand
with hers
and you felt sad
inside that you'd
made her feel like that
and you saw
how lovely her
dark eyes were
how there seemed
to be a mini universe
in them with their own
galaxies and stars
and moons
next time I'll think twice
you said
before hitting
the other boy
she nodded
and smiled
and her hand
squeezed yours
her skin soft and warm
her hair black
and drawn back
into a ponytail
sitting there
beside you
her grey school skirt
and jumper
and white blouse
the neck open
the sight
of her throat
and you wanting
to kiss but not doing so
her neck
her skin
the feel
of her hair
against your cheek
sometimes
you thought
we can't have
what we seek.
poem by Terry Collett
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At Helen's for Tea.
After school
Helen's mother took you home to tea
and she was wheeling
the big pram along the pavement
with you on one side
and Helen on the other
and she said
hold onto the pram
while we cross the roads
I don't want anything
to happen to you
and as you crossed
the busy roads
you kept glancing over
at Helen with her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her thin wired glasses
and her raincoat
buttoned tight
against the wind
and her small hand
clutching the pram handle tightly
and beside you
Helen's mother
short and stocky
pushing and puffing
and her eyes dark as night
and kind at the same time
and when you reached their home
and went inside
and she took off your coat
you went with Helen
into the sitting room
with a coal fire blazing
and the smell
of drying clothes
and past dinners
and Helen said
do you want to see my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of boxwood
with lights you can turn off and on?
sure ok
you said
and you followed her
into her bedroom
where her toys and dolls
were laid up along the wall
next to her bed
and she took up a doll
and held her out to you
and said
this is my favourite
this is Jenny
and you said
hi Jenny how you doing?
and Helen smiled
her slightly goofy smile
and you liked that
her smile
and her eyes large as duck eggs
behind the thick lens
and she handed the doll
to you to hold
and you held the doll
and kissed the head
and hugged it close
thinking glad the other boys
can't see me now
here with this girl
and kissing and holding
the darn doll
out of some small boy love
and shyness
and you know
they'd laugh out loud
and point their tough boy fingers
and you're glad
they aren't there
just Helen
and her little girl love and kindness
against their rough ways
and small boy toughness.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen and You and the Bombed Out Factory
Ought we to go in there?
Helen asked
as you both stood outside
the bombed out factory
off Rockingham Street
sure we should
you said
but it's got
STAY OUT signs
on the big doors
she said
you looked at her
with her thick lens glasses
and her hair tied in plaits
nibbling her finger in anxiety
come on in
you said
nothing will happen to you
while you're with me
she didn't look convinced
what if someone sees us?
she asked
no one cares around here
kids are always going
on bombsites
you said
she looked around
her eyes seemingly larger
than they were
are you sure?
she said
yes now come on
and you took
her small hand
and pulled her through
a small opening
in the side
where other kids
had made an entrance
she a pulled face
on the other side
of the gate
and rubbed her arm
where a line of blood showed
look
she said
I've scratched myself
you dabbed at it
with a grey handkerchief
and spittle and she watched
as you cleared up
the line of blood
will it be all right?
yes
you said
it'll be fine
and you walked on
across the yard
and into the bombed out factory by
a door hanging
on its hinges
and into the dark interior
she stood by the entrance inside
and took in the semi darkness
it's frightening
she said
no one is here
you said
how do you know?
she asked
it's too quiet
you said
she leaned closer to you
and grabbed your arm
what was that?
she whispered
a rat probably
what? she said
a rat
you said
let's go out
she said
nothing will hurt you
while I'm here
and you patted
the toy gun
in the belt
of your jeans
she looked at you
then out
into the semi darkness
you walked in
and up the stone stairs
by a wall
and she followed
her breathing
becoming louder
as you walked up
once at the top
and along a landing
you came to a small office
where the door was missing
and there was a hole
in the roof where a bomb
had blown it off
as well as other parts
of the building
you stood
looking around
the room
where rain had rotted
what furniture remained
and on the floor
were books soaked
and rotting
Helen said
can we go now?
you looked up
through the hole
in the roof
and there
was the afternoon sun
and a white cloud
moving slowly across
a blue sky
and she moved
next to you
and kissed your cheek
but you didn't know why.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen and You and a Bag of Chips
After school
after tea
of bread and jam
a mug of tea
and a slice of cake
you met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
and she was holding
Battered Betty her doll
in her arms
and she said
Betty wanted to come
she gets lonely
stuck at home
ok
you said
as long as she's quiet
and doesn't cry
all the time
she won't
Helen said
does your mum know
you're out?
you asked
of course
Helen replied
but she said
not to be late
or come home
in the dark
you'll be safe
I've got my six-shooter
with me
you said
tapping the toy gun
tucked in the belt
of your jeans
I told Mum
I was with you
and she said ok
I don't think
she'd let me out
otherwise
a train clattered
over the bridge
over head
let's go
you said
and the three of you
walked up and along by
the Trocadero cinema
she talking about
Battered Betty's day
and what Carmody
had said at school
and how he smelt
of B.O. and cabbages
you watched the people
passing along
the New Kent Road
a constant stream
passing back
and forth
and still Helen talked
as you walked
Carmody's just a fink
you said
take no notice
what he says
and she clutched your hand
with her free hand
not clutching the doll
and you both ran
across the road
and stood outside
the Odeon cinema
gazing at the still photos
in the frames
of what film was showing inside
don't fancy that
you said
too much kissing
and women crying
and boring men
what's wrong with kissing?
Helen asked
better than men
shooting guns
or riding horses
over yellow deserts
making women cry
you looked at her
with her large eyes
behind her thick lens glasses
watery as lakes
and her brown hair
plaited into two plaits
sure
you said
how about a bag of chips?
she nodded then said
I've got no money
don't worry my dad
gave me 6d
for polishing his shoes
the other day
you said
ok
she said
and you walked down
towards the Neptune fish shop
and asked for 6d of chips
and the man
with the one eye
scooped chips
into a bag
and you gave him
the money
and Helen sprinkled
salt and vinegar over them
and you both went outside
and stood together
and shared the bag of chips
and each chip tasted
hot and salty
and warmed your insides
and Helen kissed your cheek
with her greasy warm lips
and said
thank you for these
and you said
no problem
anything to please
and you felt
the damp kiss
there on your cheek
and you smiled
to yourself
thinking
I won't wash that off
for a week.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Summer Recess of 62.
It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field
behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean
with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you
why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after
the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly
and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males
are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said
I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said
she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back
on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned
to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you
and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does
you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk
hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand
on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone
beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand
off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us
from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course
she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it
on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing
the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well
she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered
and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train
and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Unexpected Father.
Your mother
had brought Helen
home for tea after school
and she had held on
to the handle
of the pram
your mother pushed
and you walked
along side
thinking of whether
to show her
your toy soldiers
and cowboys and Indians
and the guns
that fired
loud banging caps
or whether to just sit
and watch the TV
and eat your tea
and show her nothing
but once you got home
and your mother went off
to the kitchen to prepare
the tea stuff and such
Helen looked at you
and shyly smiled
and said
Can I see your sister's dolls
and pram
and does she have
a doll's house
I could play with?
you dismissed the idea
of showing her
the guns that fired caps
or your toy soldier collection
and took her
into the room
where you kept the toys
and pointed to
your sister's dolls
and the pram
and said
Take care
my sister doesn't like
people messing
with her stuff
and Helen nodded
and picked up a doll
and held it to her chest
and rocked it
to and fro
and walked up and down
murmuring there there sounds
that echoed softly
around the room
Where's your sister?
Helen asked
will she mind me
rocking the baby to sleep?
Guess not
you replied
and stood watching her
as she walked
and talked to the doll
in an undertone
and you stood there
hands in pockets
like a father
of an unexpected child
wondering what to say
or do and taking in
her thick lens glasses
and her eyes
seemingly enlarged
focusing on the doll
and the way her head
moved from side to side
so that her plaited hair
went from side to side
and up and down
and she said softly
and suddenly
We may have a baby like this
one day and you had better
say something more
than you are now
or I'll think
you didn't want it
and off she walked
up and down the room
and hoped your mother
would come soon
and save you from the fate
of being the father
of a doll with a dodgy eye
and a painted smile
but having a tender spot
for Helen
all the while.
poem by Terry Collett
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Unwanted Wealth
On the way home from school
you and Helen stopped
and looked in the window
of the pie and eel shop
where a man was cutting off heads
of live eels
and then slitting them open
and knifing out the guts
and then chopping them
up into small pieces
and Helen said
yuk what's he doing
to those poor eels?
you were engrossed in watching
the man's knife slit through
the necks so easy
that the pieces still wriggled
after he pushed them
into a bucket on the side
people eat them
you said
whether jellied
or in pies
with mash and liquor
horrible
Helen said
how could they?
People will eat anything
you replied
turning to gaze
at her horrified face
her eyes magnified
behind her thick lens spectacles
I read somewhere
that some people ate others
in the Leningrad siege
you added
she grabbed your hand
and squeezed it tight
they never did
you're lying
she said
her eyes focused on you
and not the eels
or the man executing them
you saw her lower lip tremble
and said
ok they didn't
you said softly
she looked back at the man
and the eels
and sighed
and you felt her warm flesh
and her small thumb
on the back of your hand
and although you knew
what had happened
you lied to protect her
from the truth
not wanting her innocence
undone by brutal humanity
and its wars
and you kept it
to your 9 year old self
a whole bundle of facts
like an unwanted wealth.
poem by Terry Collett
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Good Deed Done.
The old woman
was lying
on the path
from her
ground floor flat
along Harper Road
when you and Helen
walked by
on your way
from the shop
with your penny drinks
you both ran to her
and she said she'd fallen
so Helen
ran across
to the surgery
on the other side
of the road
while you knelt
by the woman
placing your
short sleeved pullover
under her head
you're a good boy
she said
but you'll have blood on it now
don't matter
you said
you stroked her head
and pushed
her grey hair
out of her white blue eyes
when Helen returned
with a doctor
he examined
the old woman
and said
he had called
an ambulance
Helen stood
next to you
her eyes tearful
her hand
touching yours
the woman said
thank you both
I don't know
what I'd have done
if you hadn't come along
it's the least we could do
Helen said
you waited
until the ambulance came
and took her away
and disappeared
off along Harper Road
look at your pullover
Helen said
it's got blood on it
don't matter
gives it colour
you replied
anyway Mum'll wash it out
she gazed at you
through her thick lens
her eyes awash
with tears
her small hand
still in yours
the path
from the old lady's flat
had a small stain
of dark red
where blood had seeped
where she'd laid her head
a bit like an abstract
pavement artist's work
you said
the white stone canvas
with that touch of red.
poem by Terry Collett
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Prettier Than Helen.
Janice you thought
prettier than Helen
more refined
whose voice
was softly spoken
as if her words
had been fresh baked
in an oven
in her mouth
and her hair fair
and well groomed
but Helen had
that down to earthiness
that brought her
closer to you
and something about
her thin framed
thick lens glasses
made her seem
more lovable
to your boyish world
and she stared at you
through them
and smiled
that shy smile
and said things
with a rough edge
as if she'd bounced
the words around
before she uttered them aloud
you can come to tea
and we'll have bread and jam
and a big mug of tea
or if mum's remembered
lemonade
she said at playtime
in the playground
out of hear shot
of the other boys
who kicked ball
or who swapped cards
or threw marbles
along the ground
or fought battles
with imaginary swords
or shot pretend bullets
from rat-a-tat guns
and she said
to entice you more
you can see my new doll
my dad brought back
from the store
ok
you said
sure
and she smiled
and her nose creased up
and her glasses moved
and some small place
in your chest thumped
like furniture being dropped
or a bed being bounced
in some small hotel
and you watched her
go off to play skip rope
that thin framed
thick lens glasses
working-class
school girl.
poem by Terry Collett
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Janice and You and the Spider
You stood
in the playground
of St Jude's school
which was really
the basement
of a bombed out house
which had been gutted
and the basement tarmaced
and the walls
were still there
where kids climbed up
and around
the thin ledge
when Janice
put her hands
over your eyes
and said
guess who?
and you put
your hands
into the pockets
of your short trousers
and said
Miss Murphy
or Miss Ashdown?
no
Janice said
it's me
and she removed
her hands
from over your eyes
and you turned around
and looked at her
and she had
her red beret on
and a pink scarf
around her neck
to keep out
the cold
you must
have known
it was me
she said
who else
would put their hands
over your eyes?
her eyes were bright
and you thought
you could see yourself
in them
as if they were small mirrors
Jupp might do
or maybe Carmody
you said smiling
she didn't smile back
but pulled her lips
tight in a line
then she took your hand
and pulled you
along the path
that led
to the school toilets
and pushed you
inside a cubicle
and shut the door
behind you both
and said
don't you love me?
there was a large spider
hanging from
the cistern chain
close to
her red beret
and it hung there
suspended
swaying back
and forth
and you said
of course I do
right down
to your white socks
but there's a spider
above your head
and she looked up
and screamed
and a voice
outside the door
asked
are you all right
in there?
Janice's eyes widened
and she watched
as the spider
moved up the chain
and she said
yes it's all right
Miss Murphy
just a small spider
and you stood there
next to Janice
wondering what
Miss Murphy
would say
if she saw you
and Janice
in the lavatory
together
and the voice said
ok as long
as you
are all right
and the footsteps
moved away
and Janice took
your hand in hers
and you sensed
how cold it was
slightly blue
and it was just
9 year old Janice
and the big spider
and 9 year old you.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen and You and Six Pence Worth of Chips.
When Helen heard
that Pete Badam
had poked your guts
she said
why'd he do that?
I scored
a home goal
you replied
so? what's that
got to do
with anything?
she said
he caught me
off guard
you said
I'll get him back
no
she said
don't go down
to his level
she gave her doll
Battered Betty
a hug
I don‘t want
our children
to have a father
who's fighting
all the time
she added
gazing at you
through her
thick lens glasses
no worry
you said
Dave Walker
got Badam
in the guts afterwards
Helen looked at you
horrified
what is it with boys?
fight fight fight
she put Battered Betty
over her shoulder
and patted her back
and walked along
the pavement outside
the ABC cinema
you watched her go
back and forth
the doll moving
over her shoulder
Helen's blue
cardigan and dress
was lit up
by the lights
from the cinema
and reflected
in her glasses
I didn't ask Walker
to hit him
you said
he just poked him
in the guts
and walked off
Helen paused her pacing
and looked at you
the doll brought down
into her arms
I don't want
a violent husband
she said softly
I want you
as you are
that's fine
you said
but that's
another time
and tomorrow
as we're only just nine
and she walked
with you
to the chip shop
in the New Kent Road
to buy six penny's
worth of chips
and a kiss
on your cheek
from her lips.
poem by Terry Collett
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Waiting By The School Gates
Look who's over
by the school gates
Reynard said
and you looked over
and there was Christina
with her school bag
over her shoulder
and her hands tucked
in the pockets
of her green coat
see you tomorrow
Reynard said
and walked on
giving Christina a stare
as he did most girls
finding them an enigma
yet to be solved
when you got
to where Christina was
she took her hands
out of her pockets
and put a hand
on your arm
I wish I was going
on the school bus
with you
then I could sit next to you
and I could tell you
about myself
and not have to cram
everything into a rush
of words as I do
at school
you looked over
to where the school bus
was waiting
you still had
five minutes
or so before
it took off
and you knew
Fred the driver
always did
a head count
before hand
don't you wish
I was there
on the bus too?
she asked
squeezing your arm
with her fingers
you turned
and looked at her
sure I do
you said
but you live here
and I live miles away
I know
she said
and I miss you
once your bus goes off
and I know
I won't see you
until the following day
and the weekend is worse
because then
I don't see you
for two whole days
other kids
passing through
the school gates
stared at you both
and Hill said
come on
or you'll miss
the bus
and he laughed
and moved on
and Christina stared
after him and said
what's his problem?
and you said
oh he hasn't been born yet
he gets this way
and she laughed
and said
maybe I'll come
on the country bus
to your village
and we can meet?
sure that'd be good
you said
and her eyes lit up
and she smiled
and leaned
towards you
and gave your cheek
a peck
and you said
look I got to go
and you took her hand
and gave it
a quick kiss
then turned
and walked quickly
towards the bus
knowing her eyes
were following
your every step
and that maybe
she dreamed
of you at night
and imagined you
beside her
and her dolls
and Teddy Bear
and you in turn
maybe imagined
at night
you too were there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Helen and You and The ABC Cinema
In the evening after tea
of bread and jam
and a glass of milk
you went out
and met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
next to the Duke
of Wellington pub
and she was waiting
there looking up
and down the street
and when she saw you
she waved and walked
towards you
where's your doll
Battered Betty?
you asked
mum's washing her clothes
and I didn't want
to bring her out
with nothing on
she said
no that wouldn't be decent
you said
where are we going?
she asked
I want to show you
the passages behind
the ABC cinema
you said
it's like a cavern
of dark passages
and once I saw a rat
running along by a wall
oh god
she said
putting a hand
to her mouth
not a rat
yes it run along
one of the walls
not sure
I want to go there
she said softly
one little rat
isn't going to hurt you
you said
besides I'll chase it away
if it comes
will you?
she said
yes of course I will
nothing is going to harm you
while I am here
you said
you showed her
the toy gun
tucked in
the inside pocket
of your jacket
she nodded
and she took
your hand
and you walked her
along and up behind
the Trocodero cinema
and onto
the New Kent Road
and you crossed quickly
before the traffic lights changed
and once you got
to the other side
you took her
to the ABC cinema
and went down beside
the cinema walls
along the dark passages
that went on beside
and behind the cinema
all the time
she gripped your hand
and now and then
her grip tightened
when she thought
she saw something
out of the corner
of her eye
what was that?
she said
stopping still
clutching your hand tight
just a piece of paper
blown by the wind
are you sure?
yes just paper
she untightened
her grip
and you both
walked on
with the sound
of traffic and voices
in the distance
and at the back
of the cinema
you came to an entrance
where two doors where
and you said
sometimes the doors are open
and you can sneak in free
she looked at you
her eyes behind
her thick lens glasses
large and innocent
is that allowed?
she asked
no
you replied
if they catch you
you get into trouble
but if you're lucky
you can get in
no trouble
you said
oh
she said
my mum wouldn't like it
if I got into trouble
we won't get in tonight
anyway
you said
the doors are locked
another time maybe
and she gripped
your hand
and her face looked shocked.
poem by Terry Collett
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Growing Up Before Time
You stood outside
the ABC cinema
with Helen looking
at the framed photographs
of the stills
from the film
then showing
she clutching her doll
Battered Betty
you standing there
pointing out
the main characters
my old man said
he'd take me
to see this
on Saturday
you said
Helen rocked Betty
in her arms
I hope our child
doesn't call you
old man
she said
maybe he won't
you replied
it might be a she
Helen said
sure it might
you said
you gave Betty a look
as she hung there
in Helen's arms
you looked back
at the photo stills
putting your hands
in the pockets
of your jeans
maybe
you can take me
to the cinema
when we are older
Helen said
and we can sit
at the back
like those grown ups do
and kiss
you sensed her hand
touch your arm
and rub it up
and down
Betty moving
as Helen's arm moved
sure
you said
long as I can still see
the movie
Helen handed you Betty
and you took
your hands out
of your pockets
and held her gingerly
like she might go
crap on you
and Helen put
a hand in her pocket
and pulled out
a few coins
I might have enough
here for some fries
she said
ok
you replied
and you walked
beside Helen
along the New Kent Road
to the Neptune's fish shop
holding Battered Betty
carefully against
your cowboy shirt
the one your mother
bought you
for your birthday
the year before
Helen talked
of children's names
and you thought
of the Wild West
and cowboy games.
poem by Terry Collett
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Glimpse Of Lover
You saw Christina
and a few
of her giggling
school friends
in one
of the school corridors
in between
maths and biology
she
looked at you
her eyes shy
and yet searching
and her friends
unnoticing
how feelings moved
or what
was inwardly touched
some electric shock
pulsed through you
stood hair on end
or so it seemed
she in her green skirt
and white blouse
and ankle socks
with sight of flesh
as she moved
and you
in your dull grey
and black shoes
seeking to take
what image
of her
you could
to your dreams
to hold at night
and not a word
there was spent
or exchanged
or feelings unloaded
or spread
except whatever raced
like some runner
in your head
and she
in hers no doubt
wondering afterwards
what this love
bringing together
and separating
was all about.
poem by Terry Collett
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