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Very Important Invitation

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

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

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

Laura Cobbold, Very Important Invitation Project, Suffolk GP Federation


 

Currently Popular Poems:

Eucalyptus Grove, Nowton Park, Bury St Edmunds

Where koalas climb Your essence exudes Striped bark,  An Everlasting glade Of inspiration Comfort and reassurance In a changing world. Oval olive leaves With yellow veins enriching  The aroma, Crisp and sturdy. Your ghost white-dusted Cigarillo rolls, Like long brittle fingers Scattering the ground. Sometimes smooth and simple, Sometimes crispy and rough, your colourful patchwork;  my secret makers-stamp revealed. Louise

Sweet Diatoms

Sweet diatoms You make me smile Algal atoms Too small to see But for my eye Peering microscopically Your fiddly frames Of filigree silica Seem big to me Tim  

Undercover Marks

Nonsensical marks archiving thoughts and traces of Freedom. A library of blemished Recoveries And rejuvenation Stamps the ideal. Robert

Whispered Words

Whispered words of silence Forgotten energies Of the past. Like a recurring dream Restless thoughts Of the now. Spirited voices of the present Elated energies Of the future.   Sally  

Hidden Depths of Strength

A hint of sadness Always in my eyes Reflecting the madness And chaos of the past. I long for normality To be rescued from the depths Don't step too close Always in my eyes. Keep others at a distance Hidden strength Always in my eyes Uncertainty and sadness. Rebecca

Shallow Souls, North Downs Way

Amongst the shallow souls Of oak, ash and elm Uprooted beech and box Tunnels Parcelling light Reaching wooded floor Through toppled trunks. Through decaying litter Eroded scarp slope Bewitched yew And opportunistic birch; Funghi a mass Dusted flints And twisted ankles. Sickly, sinewy ash Clusters of wild herbs Wood rush and brambles In fallen pockets Reams of light, Brightness to the isolated, Hope on the murderous path. Stephanie

Lace-like Shadows

Dancing with lace-like shadows of forgotten worlds, the tortoiseshell creeps slowly, the last energies to lie upon the rough bark. With folded wings, Madame butterfly is no more til Spring. Charlotte

Green Energy

With Diaphanous touch My Ephemeral thoughts Are amplified. Nearby the caste of reason Weighs the outcome Optimistic and challenging. Escalated and improved My green energies revealed. Thomas

Crinkle Crankle Wall

I love the crinkle-crankle's quirkiness, Its quiet economy and hidden strength, No need for buttresses, for inner stress Holds tight the subtle, undulating length. From East to West, it’s perfectly aligned, So morning sunlight warms the sheltered side, Fruit ripening along espaliered lines, Resisting sea-winds, carried by the tides. Slangemuur the Dutch men called it, engineers, Who drained the marshland, freed alluvial soil, That rich, dense blackness, springing with green spears, Of wheat and barley, from their earthy toil. Strict calculations laboured to create, The Crinkle-Crankle’s seeming-natural shape. Slangemuur*– snakewall. Fiona Clark  

Wandering Heartache

With Wandering Heartache I return To post My love. My love knows no secrecy Of Pocketed memories. My love Can’t fly away But it can sink. My love keeps afloat Awashes with the swell. My love Is constant And Reassuringly there. Anon.