Winter’s Tale (Haiku)
The warm quilt captive
from solstice to equinox
my choice, Eat or Heat.
©Carol Robson 2016
An Untimely Death
Older people are easy targets
relying on their pension,
pension day to look forward to
then, start looking forward to the next.
They want you to work until you die
attacked, suffer cutbacks
again and again
those now living in fear
many with various disabilities
now fear their advancing years.
The extra money helps so many,
it isn’t about their luxuries
as they sit in their coats and hats,
scarves, gloves, wrapped in blankets
here in their homes.
Another cold winter shackles them,
confined by disability or age.
Fears for so many,
they will not see another year,
this will be an untimely death.
© Carol Robson 2015
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.
(Poem about how I feel about this country (UK) under Lib/Con coalition)
©Carol Robson 2014
My NHS YouTube video
I loved my NHS
a child of the early days
growing old with it
but I fear I’m losing it
like me, it is falling apart.
Left on a gurney
no one takes care
my cries unheeded
just like their gravy.
Will I wait for family
just to give me food
to turn me over
to wipe my arse
because there is
to cover this.
I see the day
hospitals in crisis
having their own
‘JustGiving ‘ page
or this ward is sponsored
by Nandos or KFC.
No operation for me.
No treatment for me.
I’m of no value
I’m Sixty Five.
© Carol Robson 2013
Time of the year to share this one again.
Fuck Being Austere (with soundcloud audio to the tune of So This Is Christmas)
Fuck Being Austere
To The Tune; So This Is Christmas
I know this is Christmas
but I don’t understand,
this feeling inside me
of things being planned.
Scrooges of Christmas future
old Cameron and his clan,
they sadden me deeply
with their devious plan.
They bring Christmas greetings
of joy and goodwill,
but not for the working class
forced to swallow a bitter pill.
A time of year for children
pressies from the Santa man,
family festivities and your parties
make the most of it while you can.
ConDem scrooges are hard at work
cutting Jobs and pensions too,
hurting old people and the vulnerable,
they’re just trying to screw you.
And so Merry Christmas
and a Happy New Year,
look out for each other
and Fuck being Austere.
© Carol Robson 2011
This is a poem I wrote early last year and seems relevant to this BBC News article on older age loneliness. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-24572231
Loneliness and Isolation
You gazed through your window
watching the world passing by
sadly this was not your world
as you gazed from your void.
Your years so full of family and friends
now seemed such a distant memory
a memory that became far less vivid
only framed memories were your companions.
You didn’t want to bother your family
they didn’t seem to listen, always so busy
just a phone call would have brightened your day
taken you out, have a treat, just a visit, please.
A few hours a week your visitors appeared
a cleaner and a person with your meals
quickly gone with barely a word or smile
again long hours devoid of any other presence.
Hours, days and weeks seemed to merge into one
broken by those fleeting visitors into your prison
a prison with a view to a world that was no longer yours
a life on your own, should never have been endured.
Now family and friends are here for you
talking of bygone days, relived memories
your loneliness and isolation is now over
sadly, it took your passing to bring them here.
© Carol Robson 2012