The New Write Out Loud Poem of the Week is ‘Nursery for the Old’ by RM Carter, who is an English literature and creative writing student at Salford University. The poem describes older people in care homes “shuffling through the halls, / dreaming that they skip … sleeping peacefully, / while the radio whispers of World War Three”.  She plans to be performing at the open mic night Write Out Loud Wigan at the Old Courts in Wigan on Thursday 11 August, adding that “finally being able to stand upon the stage and expose my soul to people” is both “both exhilarating and terrifying!” She answered a few quick questions:   

 

What got you into writing poetry?

I have a slight stutter, and so I found that poetry enabled me to express thoughts and feelings that are sometimes difficult to verbally describe. A lot of people who stutter find a similar comfort in writing song lyrics and singing. So in an alternate universe where I could actually sing, I’d probably be writing my own song lyrics right now!

 

How long have you been writing?

I have been writing for as long as I can remember. As a toddler I was always carrying two huge bags of paper and pens around with me. In my tweens I co-wrote scripts with my mates and younger sisters for short-film spoofs of Shakespeare’s plays, Dickens’ novels and Homer’s poems. But I only began to write poetry four years ago at college in my English lesson. My teacher asked us all to write a poem for National Poetry Day and I haven’t put my pen down since!

 

Do you go to any open mic nights?

I will be going to the Old Courts in my home town of Wigan on August 11; my first open mic night which I’m very excited for!

 

What’s your favourite poem/poet?

Carol Ann Duffy is my favourite poet and I haven’t tired of her even after over a year of studying her poems at college. My favourite poem by Duffy is ‘Whoever She Was’ which very much inspired the main themes in ‘Nursery for the Old.’

 

You’re cast away on a desert island. What’s your luxury?

A notebook, always a notebook. And it would not only be excellent for writing a Robinson Crusoe- type autobiography while I’m there, but also a resourceful source of fuel for a fire for the cold desert island nights!

 

 

NURSERY FOR THE OLD 

by RM Carter

 

They recline

in rooms filled with their framed-families.

Little boys and girls trapped in time,

skin like watery play- dough hanging from ribs,

silently rattling the bone bars of their cribs.

Slowly shuffling through the halls,

dreaming that they skip. Then

they slump into their soft thrones,

backrests like cushion-y gravestones,

sleeping peacefully

whilst the radio whispers of World War Three.

The beginning are carried in to visit the end.

A baby’s wrinkled hands softly smooth

the crinkles from a creased and crumpled mask.

Your mother traces the first wrinkle on your face,

like the letters of the alphabet.

In the garden,

the Autumn leaves part from the trees.

You help your mother out of the metal pram

and take baby steps

that shake like a newborn colt’s knees.

You feel her ghosting warm perfume,

seeping out of tea-bag skin.

You watch her hair,

whiten and curl,

like a new-born lamb’s fur.

The ashy clouds

gather and mist in her eyes.

You watch as her mind floats away

with the dandelion seeds,

as again,

you say you final goodbyes.