Andrew Dickson

Kettlethorpe, Wakefield, West Yorkshire

I was born in Malta, on 8th June 1938. I was a Dr. Barnardo's boy, during the 2nd World War, and later served 9 years in the Royal Engineers. I attended the Hungarian Uprising in 1956, giving help to refugees, in Austria. In 1958, I was involved in British Nuclear Testing at Christmas Island. I was later Joinery Manager for a national construction company, and had my own Double Glazing business, in Wakefield. I am married, and my wife and I live in Wakefield, in a flat. I enjoy gardening, snooker, and writing. I do voluntary work as Secretary of the Combined Services Association, based in Wakefield. My poetry comes from experience, and it expresses many facets and points of view. I would like to think people identify me with my poetry. I have been unemployed, through disability, since 1985.

British Nuclear Testing

Valiant Bombers jetted into the skies,
down on the island, buzzing with flies.
Crouched on the beach, without protection,
servicemen without a means of detection.

Huddled in the sand, they covered their eyes,
as the roar of the engines, drowned the buzzings of flies,
Then, turning as ordered, they took in the sight,
a clear demonstration of ultimate might.

Clouds belched from the sea, in a mushroom of colour,
with black smoke, at its base, where the sea became duller.
The sand began moving, beneath trembling feet,
torsos were tortured, and singed by the heat.

Then the clouds formed a halo, that came billowing out,
and the serviceman realized they had reason to doubt.
The full consequences, were clearer that day,
meddle in nature, and a price you will pay!

Today, gone is the Empire, that created such might,
obsolete are the Valiants, that we painted white.
Now, it is possible, mankind can be destroyed,
Yet no-one enquired, where the troops were deployed!

Barnardo's Wartime

Parents in Wartime, unable to cope,
left children, quite helpless, and without much hope.
Social Services took over, the result separation,
Dr. Barnardo's, it was decided, was their destination.

Home, was in castles, so brooding and dark,
where young souls were tortured as they made their mark.
Leisure time, was spent in prayers, and choirs,
cleaning clogs, and stoking the fires.

Rabbit stew, was a regular diet,
and after nine, they were expected to be quiet.
Butlers Pantry, was the one great treat,
with scraps, from what the staff would eat.

Twelve years on, all adults now,
they left Barnardo's, and made a vow.
No child of mine, will suffer such sorrow,
because, I will build them, a better tomorrow.

Yet, Barnardo's today has a different role,
state funded, and caring, it widens its goal.
War changed it function, it gave it more span,
but, destitute orphans, stay part of the plan.