Single Awareness Day
February fourteenth is Valentines Day
another chance to fill the coffers.
A card, flowers, presents to give
commercialism filling their pockets.
One day just to say, I love you
pushed at you since the New Year.
Magazines, newspapers, television too
just to say on that one day.
I love you
Emphasis on couples,
sharing their love.
Why do they need a special day?
everyday should be special.
If you love someone so much
How does it feel to be single?
grown tired of all this hype.
Many different reasons, for being single
cherish your life, cherish your friends.
February fourteenth is,
Single Awareness Day
© Carol Robson
Women’s Space in Spoken Word. Carol Robson with the Strings from ‘Up North Session Orchestra’ vocalist Robyn Haddon recorded and produced by Rory Pilgrim, performed as part of The Open Sky performance. Recorded at the Yellow Arch Studio Sheffield.
Copyright Carol Robson and Rory Pilgrim
Celebration of Age written and performed by Carol Robson with vocalists Robyn Haddon and Mali Lines Harvey, vocals written, recorded and produced by Rory Pilgrim, performed as part of Rory Pilgrims performance and short film ‘The Open Sky’
Copyright Carol Robson and Rory Pilgrim 2015
I’ve such self-belief that it – scares me
I refuse to let my past – define me
In the here and now – poet me
I’ve proved I can do it – performer me.
Some people cannot get past – history me
Clouds their vision to see – true me
Ignored and never accepted – dislike me
Or in truth, the realisation – discriminate me.
My true friends – love me
Loved my performances – support me
Female poet and performer – gladdens me
My authentic and fulfilling life – just me
Feeling alive – REAL ME.
©Carol Robson 2014
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
Things will never change
If you don’t get your arse in gear
Apathy is your life’s trait
Thinking Yes! I’m alright mate.
Continuous fucking moaning
Belching from your mouth
This country’s going to the dogs
That is your usual spout.
Do something, get off your arse and vote.
Yet! you’re the public house transmission
Or living room politician
Always giving it large
To anyone who’ll listen
You’re in your face utter barrage
Fucking hell, don’t become a Farrage
Do something, get off your arse and vote
Don’t be the non-voter
Become the opinion poll floater
Public house transmission
Living room politician
Stop your fucking moaning
Just do your frigging voting
©Carol Robson 2015
This poem is from my revised/edited 2nd edition poetry collection Words of Darkness and Light.
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 –
Where have you gone?
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