Nielsen left an impression on me as soon as he took the stage at a Storytime London event at Morocco Bound hosted by Adam. Nielsen has presence and authority, coupled with a wry humour and easy conversational style that pulls you in to listen. After the event, we had a chat about life in sobriety and how sharing poetry can help with mental health. We’ve gone on to collaborate on work he is doing in the medical field, and it’s been a privilege to be part of that and to think perhaps my story might help others. He is a perfect fit for our latest Write Speak Recover interview and poem. Please read on to hear Nielsen’s story.
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I started writing poetry at the age of eight – nothing profound but something about a squirrel losing his nut in a garden and never being able to find it again. Through the years I kept writing here and there, thankfully I progressed from squirrels, though I never shared any of it. It wasn’t cool, and I desperately wanted to be cool. Two years ago, I came to a stark realisation, I was never going to be cool.... and sharing some of my writing was far from the discriminating factor.
I started to share my work and somebody close to me noted that I almost operate from two parts – The Poet, a hopeful romantic dreamer; and The Doctor, a pragmatic, flaw finding, problem solving, advice giver. Both had their uses, and both could exist together if I let them, and so I started to embrace the idea of The Poetic Doctor.
There have been moments where I have come across work others have been brave enough to share just when I needed it, and in that vein my aim is simple. I don’t care much for being read or seen by huge numbers, I write things I think people could do with hearing – in the hope that it finds just one person, at the right time, and makes a difference to them in its own little way.
The Red Phone
We have a rule among the boys
If the red phone rings you pick it up without pause
It’s started back at school and it’s lasted the passage of time,
Cellular lifeline for when life is far from fine
And the stock phrase “I’m doing good,” can’t even muster to
defence,
For the moments you can’t breathe unless you breathe through
your friends
This isn’t just some fun story, this is the story of us
A group of young boys building emotions through trust
Heartbreaks, and loss, and unseen goodbyes
The fading of the parents at the sports day finish line
Things you’d never expect from a bunch of strong guys,
Done with hiding behind the lines, and drowning it all in pints
So when the red phone rings the protocol is simple, cancel the
plans, never mention them at all,
Sit with that person through the entirety of the call
Sit further, let them lean on your soul
Let this be the phone call that puts life on hold
And then you rally the troops, this is your duty to bear
It doesn’t matter where, just make sure they’re there
And the beauty of the system is that the phone is passed on
So the one that felt weak may now learn to feel strong,
And he’ll answer the next call whenever the red-light burns,
Offer his own wisdom through all that he’s learned
Tell them it may not be ok but it will all be fine
And until then, well, we will all just sit a while
Let the time pass by, laugh while we cry,
Boys will be boys if you force them to hide
And only when he’s ready then the phone is passed on, pain
transformed but never truly gone,
And the rule goes on
We have a rule among the boys
When the red phone rings you pick it up without pause.
On the writing process
Every time I have tried to sit down to write in the picture-perfect way, I have in my imagination… dark wooden table, quiet room with sun draping through, coffee steaming away in the corner – I have written a string of complete rubbish held together by, at best, tenuous narratives and weak jokes.
Most of my writing happens on busy trains, at bus stops, airport terminals.... basically, anywhere with a huge flurry of people. Something about writing in these busy areas I find therapeutic, being part of life and all its movement, while at the same time having some form of imaginary forcefield around me, my own space in it all as I write. Moments will catch me as I write, a child throwing his toys at his mother, a first date going awkwardly across from me, the comic pull of a dog trying to set free from its owner or a phone screen glued soul walking straight into a lamppost. All these moments break up my writing and I actually sit and laugh as the world passes by. I probably look like a complete weirdo – but to me, it's my favourite part.
So I guess I’m not really a real writer in that sense, I don’t take it seriously, it’s a way that I continue to enjoy the world. Everything else is relatively serious, taking writing lightly is what keeps me coming back to it.
Favourite poets, poetry nights, books or other resources
My favourite poem is 'The Man in the Glass', Peter Dale Wimbrow Sr. 1934
When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.
For it isn’t your father, or mother, or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.
He’s the fellow to please – never mind all the rest
For he’s with you, clear to the end
And you’ve passed your most difficult, dangerous test
If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.
For most of my schooling I went to an all-boys school, and while I’m grateful for every experience that gave, there is something about the environment of a large group of “men,” all trying to succeed that becomes more than a competition. It goes further than a 'you vs me', it becomes a 'me vs me' – but the pride still grows.
This poem speaks to that end, it's a reflection on how there exists an inner part of self, (the man in the glass,) that while always critically appraising, is only interested in the truth. The idea that whoever you put out to the world, whoever sometimes you even put out to yourself, deep down you will know who you truly are. The lesson that anything that you project different to that, any distance from that person you deliberately try to create, will inevitably and invariably cause a sting somewhere inside as you are pulled back to the reality of self.
Its poems like this that drew me to poetry.
As a society we are in a constant battle with who we are, the disappointments of who we have been and the fear of who we may, or may not, become. Some people numb this with work, love, alcohol, drugs and every distraction we humanly discovered. But it's at the end, when all these distractions have worn out and the body has sobered up to its own reality, that if we can’t find peace with the person in the glass, we will only find pain.
Before I go...
Someone once asked me “What's your thing?” – I was confused. “Everyone’s got their thing,” she said. “A weird quirk or a dream they've never spoken out loud.” I think at the time I was so taken aback I said something generic like “I love to cook.” But she didn’t let it go, every few months she’d ask me if I’d found my thing. The whole time I knew I loved writing, speaking, expressing, yet ironically, it's the thing I couldn’t do in that situation. Worried that if I started, I’d look weird, my friends would all think I was some kind of softy, I’d never be any good and would likely end up on bus posters publicly ridiculed.
When I started it was a with a strong sense of well what have you got to lose, and I soon realised few people ever recognised a change, and even fewer cared.
So, I guess if I had one more thing to add I would tell anyone, whatever your thing is – if its sheering llamas in the Himalayas, or singing opera in the middle of a tube station. Do not let the world's perception of you, or your perception of yourself hold you back, at the end of the day all that matters is the person in the glass.
Write Speak Recover, in collaboration with TheNeverPress is an open, free collection of original portraits of poets using their art to find strength in their recovery journey from any form of dis-ease.
We invite you to follow Write Speak Recover on Instagram and to reach out to Tim Foley at WSR or us directly at the zine to learn more, or put yourself forward to be featured in this initiative.
Be kind. Stay present. One moment after the next.
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