Tag Archives: family

Oct 2015 ‘A Reflection’

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Van Gogh Museum performance of the intergenerational words piece The Open Sky with Robyn Haddon and Rory Pilgrim October 2015.

“A Reflection.
The Open Sky is about words and what they mean for different people.
It’s about intergenerational words,

I bring words with me from childhood.
Family words that have stayed with me.
Sometimes these words have got blurred through the years.

There are words I want to term as family words.
There are also words I want to term as friendship words.
Sometimes the words in friendship can mean more to some people than family words because for some, their friends are also their family who they share their lives with.

There’s a four letter word, which is really important – just a four letter word – LOVE.
Carol Robson.

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Loneliness and Isolation by Carol Robson.

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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

Who Am I?

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Who Am I?

 

I know something is wrong,

getting forgetful, losing stuff.

Little things at first, but soon,

I recognise that this is not right.

I sit here, my favourite chair,

most days – long days I think.

 

No recognition;

who is this man who brings me another cuppa? 

He seems to do so much for me, these days,

he isn’t my dad.

Dad has lots of hair, I remember so curly,

can’t be my dad.

Keep hearing people saying;

SHAME and she is only 53.

 

Good days, I remember Tom,

this man who is always here.

I think we are married,

third finger left hand a ring. 

He’s a good man, I think!

 

Takes me to see the Doc for my check-up;

I think he’s a Doc.

Listening thingy hanging from his neck,

wants to listen to my chest.

Doc blows on it, making it warm,

listening thingy not my chest.

Doc speaks to the man with me,

hey-up I’m here, not invisible,

feels like I’m being ignored, not a child,

even if childhood seems like yesterday.

 

Hours just watching the moving pictures

on the box in the corner of the room

Coronation St always a favourite,

where is Elsie Tanner? 

 

Young man, a woman, a little boy visit,

most weekends, I think. 

Vague memories, then lucidity,

he is my son, boy my grandson I’m told,

he makes me laugh and smile,

good days, happy days. 

Bad days; this boy taps my head,

anyone at home he asks,

 bad times I want to spank the little sod,

my dad would.

 

Drifting in and out of time,

this man Ted, Tom or is it Tim?

Does so much, he looks tired, I’m tired,

but I’m bloody angry, frustrated.

This man holds my wrists,

I’m so angry, I’m crying, why me?

I know I love him, then he is a stranger,

where are my Mum and Dad?

Their little girl needs them,

angry, frustrated!

 

I’m lonely in this place full of people. 

Another home, no memories,

just a crowd of blank faces,

just like mine in the mirror. 

Who am I?

© 2014 Carol Robson

 

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I could have never imagined

or even dreamed,

that this life

would turn out so!

Happiness and joy

can be measured

in wealth and riches,

of love and friendship

from family and friends.

 

Those who started

my amazing journey

with me,

many who joined it

along the way, sharing,

making my life richer

that led to fulfillment,

of a deeper happiness

in a time and place

that is my Nirvana.

 

Those who,

journeyed with me,

stayed with me,

supported me,

loved me

for being me,

I love you.

Namaste.

©Carol Robson 2013