Lest We Forget by Carol Robson.


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.

An Untimely Death by Carol Robson.


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

Lest We Forget by Carol Robson.


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.

Acceptance by Carol Robson


Acceptance

Accepted for being you
but were you really?
Really didn’t get to know
the real beautiful you
their loss, not yours.

You accepted who you are
as did true friends
not just for entertainment value
or being politically correct.

This is my personal view
being different doesn’t suck
actually it bloody rocks
and I don’t give a fuck.

© Carol Robson 2012

I’m Not Invisible. (with soundcloud audio)


I’m Not Invisible

I shrink away from this coldness
the coldness of an ordinary day
people lives – spent, moving in herds
some people moving alone – like cold dummies
self-consumed, need to be there – like yesterday
never seeing – dismissing – the frailness of others

People moving along, with a fixed glare
their lives with a purpose, that we do not know
moving as robots, programmed lives
mobile phones attached to their ears
or eyes glazed upon their screens
fingers walking in rhythm to their feet

Frailness still moves among them, warily – yet always alert
keeping  a sharp eye for the hunter
you’re the prey to be knocked over
by the robot that got side-tracked
the one that snarls; I never saw you
no words of sorry – makes it all your fault

I’m not invisible; I’m fucking real for god’s sake
I might be old – I might be disabled – so, I’m frail
Am I now, just an easy target – to be brushed aside
like it’s my fault for being in your way
so arsehole! – walk in my frail shoes for a day
experience the coldness and the blindness of the herd
get used to it – because, one day, this could be all yours.

© Carol Robson 2011