Skip to main content

Very Important Invitation

close up of the centre of a flower
V
VULVA! Did I capture your attention?
E
Each of us have our own experiences, relevance, compliments & complaints to mention
R
Race, religion, gender – cervical screening has little constraints it’s about prevention and
Y
You are in control.

I
Investment in your health, time to talk, education about look & feel
M
More talking about our bodies, knowing the facts and questions we have all tried to conceal
P
Putting it frankly, simply and laid bare
O
Out in the open and then you find yourself sat in the chair
R
Red rosy cheeks, being asked about your periods, dryness, sex, safety and infections
T
That’s an odd question
A
And did the nurse forget to mention?
N
Not only do we want to do your cervical screening but we want to check your safe at home too
T
That’s the aim of our holistic game.

I
Invest in your time to learn, to read, to look after what you need
N
Now if you ARE in need we can promise you one thing can be guaranteed
V
Very Important Invitation will be here to advocate, elaborate, commemorate
I
Interested in you being in control and feeling at the centre of your care
T
Tackling whatever your goal,
A
And combining care and making sure you know…we are
T
There. There to listen, talk, hear your view, change the future of experiences for you
I
If there is someone you want to bring, someone you trust
O
Oh – you mean they are welcome too? Yes
N
No matter what, you are in control.

Laura Cobbold, Very Important Invitation Project, Suffolk GP Federation


 

Currently Popular Poems:

Becalmed

I can no longer dot the i’s, nor cross the t’s. A pale haze, like Sunday afternoons, pleasant after a glass of wine too many, drifts across my day. I am at peace. I find myself disposed to acquiesce, content to live life at this gentle pace, content, it seems, with how life’s focus, now diminished, takes on the softened blur of evening light. Something sharp is lost. But the time for mourning it is done. The wind that swelled the sails has dropped, the tide recedes, the fierceness of the sun is quenched, leaving the sunshine’s golden glow that speaks the lateness of the hour. A taste of salt upon my lips - no call for worry or regrets - a bitter-sweet recall of what has gone. Julia Duke

Change

As  I stand with my feet in the ocean, and look at the setting sun, I think of how many me's, have stood in how many seas, but always stared at the same one. A snapshot of scenes in the movie of me, at various times of my being. A new version of me every single time; the same star I'm always seeing. It fills me with curious wonder, for the places that I may go; And the life that has yet to happen, and the things I have yet to know. Jess

Pandemic

Piecing together all our hopes and dreams, joining the broken fragments of our lives, managing the pain of another loss, full of joy when finally together, society’s fabric hangs by a thread. Julia Duke

To Dance Beneath the Pine

In a storm I glimpse my soul Searching for lost branches Fallen to the wind Decomposing with time. Michelle  

Let Me Play

Children at play filled with innocence, Trees in the playground where they hide. Running, shouting no cares in the world, Waves of freedom flows higher than the tide. In that playground stands a child all alone, Fraught with sadness, with nobody to play. His dejection surges as his tears threaten, Just wishing a shrill of a whistle would end the day. Being so alone is a solitary game, Thoughts of “what have I done” The shrills and screams of play, Ending a game for those that won. Standing all alone playtime is long, Children running all unaware, He stands still alone, Envy and sadness, he stands just to stare. Sheridan

A Cold Wind

With the wind still cold My coat buttoned high I felt the sweep of sadness Rise to my heart. Barry

Ickworth Oaks

Those ancient tumbled oaks With intermittent decay the ridged thick bark clings to the base of striped ochre-gold. Silver-grey serpentine arms, outstretched lightning forks reaching to the tufted earth. Beetle channels deeply grooved beneath marks of a veteran striped bark, worn, crumbled and flaked. Amorphous hues, a forgotten silhouette of darkness revealed in Winter’s sun. Cameron

Slipping Oars

we give her a wave for the ferry she slips oars from the Southwold bank John

Shingle Beach

Deep Yellow sea poppies With Salted horns Of sickle-shaped pods Grey green lobes Waxy Rosettes Clinging to the shingle And Fragility of life. Thomas

Seasons

To each a season: the planets Turn in Kepler's gyre, Swelling the mental weather, Fattening the wealth Of light and dark I weekly Feel in my own solitude. To each a season: a death Of what was hard and cold: A burst of sun to break My hoary sadness And gild the shining tower I build around your smile. But let's not talk of sun But speak instead of life And all the things I feel When living through mortality. The lovely times We feast and meagre times We only feed on memories. I have my seasons. Tim Holt-Wilson