Debris (audio)


Poem about a woman who through drug/alcohol addiction finishes up sleeping rough on the streets

©Carol Robson 2014

Love Transcends.


(Poem about Iphis and Ianthe from the story in Ovid’s  Metamorphoses Book 9)

 

Love Transcends.

(Iphis and Ianthe)

 

A raging fire burned

loves flames kindled

elicited by your beauty

innocence in despair

knowing this love

betrothed in ignorance

by a loving father

unaware of deceit

by a loving mother

accepting the truth

of the prophecy of Isis.

 

The Gods frowning

a Sapphic love

not yet countenanced

there should not be

girl with girl.

My desires

my beautiful Ianthe

that you be man

or even I

to consummate

to bring purity

for our love desires.

 

True love triumphs

above all foolishness

love is much more

than decreeing

the genders

of who has

madness to love

or to lie with

their desired bride.

 

Decreed by Isis

our troth fulfilled

I’m now man

rendered by Goddess

for satisfaction

of the Gods

and families.

Yet! my beautiful Ianthe

our love transcends

Gods, Goddess and Gender.

 

©Carol Robson 2013

 

I Don’t Recognise Me


Poem about experiencing the cycle of Domestic Abuse/Violence.

I Don’t Recognise Me

A shadow of my former self

once strong in soul and spirit

now a shaking quivering husk

how the hell, did I allow this.

 

I loved you with all my soul

an eternity together, so I thought

sharing a burning desire of love and lust

together, we were as one.

 

I should have seen the signs

little things at first, so subtle

mind games, controlling, never any trust.

I was no longer a free spirit.

 

What am I doing wrong, I feared

I’m driving you away, losing you.

It is my fault, I’ll do better

anything, just to please you.

 

Never realising, this was your control cycle

making me feel so worthless

you loved me, because no one else would

my soul broken, now so afraid.

 

Living in fear, constantly having to please

everything perfect for your homecomings

hiding my alcohol and drug crutches

just my means of getting through, another day.

 

Time passes by as in slow motion

always hoping, it will be better

my false hopes and dreams

soon to be completely shattered.

 

A little slap at first, then it begins

my fear of violence, committed

my life as a punch bag, began,

how did you become this monster.

 

Black and blue, the blood shows

hiding away so no one can see

a quivering wreck, not so pretty

cowered, by this coward, that I once loved.

 

Cut and bruised after all these years,

I crawled away to a safer place

a haven for me to heal and repair,

I was wrong, I’m not alone.

 

Self-confidence and spirit destroyed

a love of life teetering on the edge

time will heal, so they say,

alas, I’m long gone,

I don’t recognise me.

 

© Carol Robson 2011

 

Who Am I?


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

 

Untitled


Untitled

 

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

Ben! Never Forgotten by Carol Robson


This is a poem I wrote for my friend Kerry, mother of Ben Needham.

Go here for all updates and events http://www.helpfindben.co.uk/

Ben! Never Forgotten
(For my friend Kerry and her family)

The sun shone brightly
just another idyllic Grecian day
family together sharing good times
with laughter and dreams of future plans.

In the blink of an eye
it all changed on that day
my darling boy playing, then,
as if in a flash of blinding sunlight
you disappeared from our eyes.

Stealthily taken from the family bosom
the pain driven through our hearts
as we searched for you, through tears
that never dried in the scorching sun.

Hours and days passed by
dreams and hopes of your return
never diminishing as I held
your favourite things to my heart
now soaked in heartbroken tears.

Twenty one years have now passed by
but every second down these years
you’ve been in our constant thoughts
our lives broken by those that stole you away
but they never stole you from our hearts
our spirits to find you are still unbroken.

One day I know you will return
a mother’s belief, so strong, never undone
to hug you, to kiss you, is what I yearn
you’re never forgotten, beautiful Ben, my son.

© Carol Robson 2012

Nine Women.


Let me just say before you read this poem, there are estimated to be 40 -50 thousand women in the UK who were given the toxic PIP breast implants.  This poem is just about one small group of women coming together wanting to help each other but also wanting to help others.  I hope there are other similar groups out there supporting each other.  However, at the end of the day it needs the voices of all women with PIP implants to come together and make the UK Government and Dept of Health see sense, there is a duty of care, because we are seeing lives destroyed through ill-health caused by the toxins leaking from these implants.  I certainly do not want to see another beautiful young woman take her life, because no one would help her 😦

Nine Women

by

Carol Robson

 

Nine women with no connection

living their lives, blissfully unaware

that news would send them in another direction

panic and cries for help, for nobody seemed to care.

 

Nine women told, you have PIP breast implants

created en Mas, and given to you without regard

consequences for your health, feeling like pants

body, mind and soul now in torment and scarred.

 

Nine women searching for answers in despair

who will help? For some of you the clinics don’t listen

days full of tears and heartache, does anybody care?

Hopes and dreams in shreds, as your lives are rewritten.

 

Nine women needing help, decide to do something about it

savings now gone, as you’re asked to pay again

to be rid of toxic implants that make you feel like shit

as you realise you’re not alone, your life enters a new domain.

 

Nine women finding each other, coming together as one

not sitting on their backsides, a purpose of lives to enhance

together to help each other, until the PIP’s are gone

wanting your lives back, despite your problems of finance.

 

Nine women inspired by a tenth, your Guardian Angel

a friend guiding you, with help and advice to reach new highs.

Inspiring you as one to get you through this living hell

an angel, side by side with the Nine, as they reach for the skies .

 

Nine women with their angel and wonderful allies

standing tall, rising above all to help each friend

always there for each other, through lows and highs

together raising funds, until the bitter end.

 

Marching onwards, to do whatever it takes, they will troop

A force to be reckoned with, are this PIP friends group.

© Carol Robson 2012

PIP Breast Implants By Carol Robson


PIP Breast Implants
By
Carol Robson

I underwent Breast Augmentation (BA) in April 2006 at the Birkdale Clinic in Crosby Liverpool, my aftercare was provided at their clinic in Rotherham. Two weeks ago I heard about these faulty PIP implants which before being withdrawn had been made in France. I had heard on the news that the French government were going to allow any French women who had received these implants, to have them removed and replaced, there was a danger of these implant rupturing and the had been filled with a low grade silicon which actually has been used in the construction industry.
I must have been delusional or naive because I believed the UK would follow and allow what the French were doing and by now many other countries to care for these women, to recognise the risks to the health and wellbeing of women in the UK with these implants, estimated to be between 40,000-50,000. How wrong I was, the government insisted that unless the women with PIP had them done under a NHS procedure there would be no help, the private clinics must do these. Later the NHS did say that if any private clinics were not going to remove the implants for free of charge they would but would not replace them. I would have thought here that after discussion with the women that while they opened them to remove the implants how much extra work would it take if the women were able to pay just for new implants to have these inserted. Let us not forget the NHS and these private clinics may well be causing these women a high level of emotional distress.
As I mentioned earlier I had mine done at the Birkdale Clinic in Liverpool at the time of my surgery the Clinic and the surgeon were known to have used PIP implants. I managed to get through on the phone and gave them my details and that I wanted to know if mine were PIP, because I didn’t have any paperwork informing me what they were. I was told they would get back to me within two weeks, so after a few more calls and emails I decided to have a look at the DVD of my surgery, it had been filmed for a programme on the Discovery Health Channel, I could see the tray with the implants but I couldn’t make the name out.
On January 6th I was a guest on the Toby Foster at Breakfast programme on BBC Radio Sheffield to talk about the fears myself and thousands of other women were suffering trying to find if we had PIP implants, also many had found the did have PIP and were being quoted disgusting price to have them replaced, some women would be charged £60 for a copy of their records and even more for a reassuring scan. Later that day Rotherham MP Denis MacShane was on Radio Sheffield talking about these implants and two women he was representing in trying to get them information from the Birkdale Clinic. Radio Sheffield passed my details to Mr MacShane and his office phoned me later that day and if I didn’t get any satisfaction from the Birkdale Clinic I had to let them know.
Birkdale are not the only private clinic who is treating women with PIP implants or just trying to find out if we have them in this way. I also have had contact with several other women around the country who are being treated in the same way as me by Birkdale. As recent as January 17th I phoned the Liverpool clinic again, this time I was told my records would be at the Rotherham Clinic, so they put me through. I spoke with someone for around ten minutes, gave her all the details again and she told me she would phone me back on my mobile hopefully that afternoon, I’m still waiting and my health is starting to be affected through the worry of not knowing and I’m usually a very positive person. I need along with thousands of other women to know now, especially as I had a breast cancer scare in 2010 and a benign cyst was removed in January 2011,
Here are a few quotes from my conversations with some other women I’ve had contact with:
“Hi Carol .yes mine are pip implants, I’ve found the paper work, I had mine in Dec 2007, Im waiting to hear from them ,they are not too quick at that though. I kept my card safe, because I had pain weeks after surgery and went back twice, they said it could be nerve endings repairing. I still have the same pain to this day. but I’ve got used to it I guess, I’m very worried what to do… do you think they will replace them?”
“Hi Carol how you getting on? Have you found out any news from Birkdale yet? I’m still waiting……. I think I’m going to book in for a MRI scan in the meantime. I hear in the States they recommend having one every 3yrs with silicone implants anyway as it’s the only way to show up a rupture, it’s a shame were not advised so well here!!”
“Thanks Carol just read the extra bits now. It’s been two weeks since I first contacted them they also stating a £60 charge to discuss options with a surgeon!! This is vile practice they are making money out of all of this, it’s so unfair! So were at £110 before we even had a scan…….it’s awful” 
http://www.birkdaleclinic.com/cosmetic-surgery/surgical-breast/pip-breast-implants/1828/
This is the page that Birkdale put on their website about PIP implants, this was after they removed the thread I had started on their Facebook page which had received lots of comments from very worried women
© Carol Robson 2012

This article can also be read in Verita Magazine under the title; PIP IMPLANTS – THE STORY SO FAR (EXCLUSIVE) BY CAROL ROBSON