My Valentine Bad Luck by Carol Robson.

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(This is a revised version of a poem I wrote a few years back for an anti-valentine poetry slam)

My Valentine Bad Luck

Valentine’s day,
just another Hallmark day,
commercial hype to pluck your pockets.
Chaucers fault, with his love birds,
verse after verse cards
finger down throat words.

I’ve loved and lost all year round
Valentine’s day
doesn’t make it anymore special
A lover can fuck it up, on any day,
it happens to us all, straight or gay.

Valentine gifts arrive in different ways
Yet! Do they really know you?
Sometimes so clueless,
with chocs or other delicacies.
I’m on a bloody diet,
or they set off, my fucking allergies.

Then the one, who always buys flowers,
every significant date, a dozen of the best
Time to tell them, you really hate the rose,
especially if they get on one knee,
about to propose.

Once I received the perfect Valentine gift,
I thought.
Perfect gift, the most beautiful rabbit
Valentine bad luck, was to continue,
the rabbit died, went out like a light.
Suddenly realised, batteries included,
were really Shite.

If like me you’re on your own,
do spare a thought,
for those in love
For you still have choice and freewill.
Just grow old disgracefully,
before it all goes, downhill.
© Carol Robson 2015

NHS and A&E rant and my poem Lest We Forget by Carol Robson.

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We keep hearing on the news about NHS and A&E crisis, no beds available, older people taking beds up because they are perhaps more at risk to seasonable illness (chest infections etc) let’s blame an easy target again.
Older people the media say are tying up beds because care packages are slow in being organised for them at home, so again blame occupational therapists and social services. It doesn’t seem too long ago when the media talked about bed blocking and there were going to be fines for social services department who caused this, ‘bed blocking’. So lets stop demonising old people and people whose job it is to set up care packages….The people who need demonising, that have caused this situation within the NHS, local authority adult social care offices, austerity cutbacks etc, kill off of a few more older people, are this Fucking Government ‪#‎justsaying‬ ‪#‎mythoughts‬

Lest We Forget

This weary darkness of days,
as they trudge their weary limbs
from room to room, in decay.
Devoid of natural light,
loneliness and isolation
coldness of older peoples plight,
lest we forget, their degradation.

©Carol Robson 2014.

Women’s Space in Spoken Word by Carol Robson.

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Women’s Space in Spoken Word.

I’m here to challenge
for you to listen
hear my voice
hear my inner soul.

Shouting
you need to see me
you need to hear me.

My voice is valuable
my space is valuable
this space is genderless
value the voice
value my words.

My right to occupy
my right to share
my voice is to be heard
my words are priceless
value me
value the person
I’m an equal person
I’m an equal voice.
We gave you a voice
respect ours.

© Carol Robson 2013

Bad Dreams by Carol Robson.

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This poem is from my revised/edited 2nd edition poetry collection Words of Darkness and Light.

BAD DREAMS

Childhood, special time,
Joyous and carefree –
Free as a butterfly
Spreading your wings.

Spring and summer delights:
You run, dance and skip
Through the fields; flowers too –
Sitting by the stream, carefree.

You find a special friend –
They are kind –
You meet by the stream
Again! Again! Still carefree.

Carefree no longer:
You do not run, dance and skip
Through the fields and flowers.
Stream is a bad place.

Not a special friend!
You didn’t want this.
Frightened! You never go out –
Frightened to tell.

Crying, bad dreams, so real –
You withdraw.
Where have you gone?
Silence consumes.

Bad dreams follow you.
In time you are here –
Not the same, no longer carefree.
Evil! Took something away.

Fields, flowers, stream of yesteryear
Pushed into deep dark place:
Bad dreams, bad memories
Still manage to emerge.

You never told.
You think you coped
So why do you still
Have bad dreams?

Copyright: Carol Robson 2014

Fuck Being Austere by Carol Robson. (Video)

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Fuck Being Austere

I wrote this poem for Christmas 2011 as a comment about the coalition government, let’s hope it isn’t needed after the 2015 elections

Poem Copyright Carol Robson 2011

Clinical Humour by Carol Robson (Audio)

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Clinical Humour (Audio)

[This poem is factual, I had my PIP Implants removed on May 24th 2012 under a local anaesthetic. I explained my humour to the surgeon, as I’m a Lesbian]
©Carol Robson 2014

Incubi by Carol Robson.

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Incubi

Life of constant bad thoughts
crawling around my mind
waiting to accommodate
my loss of control
why I fear my sleep time
that is never inhabited
with good dreams
only a constant
nightmare reality.

Struggling to stay awake
always losing the battle
despite the pills.
I try to grip reality.
Failure,
drifting away
into deep slumber
of mystical shrouds
swirling in the creeping
envelopment of darkness.

The demon surfaces
revisiting my body.
Dark red eyes piercing,
cauterising mind control
as he takes my soul
on his nightly inhabitation,
of pleasure, that I only know
in this orgiastic world
controlled by the Incubi.

© Carol Robson 2014