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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


 

Poetry Theme(s):

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
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Who Is Saving The World?

The recycler, bicycler, bio-masser and solar paneller, the sustainable developer, the charity worker, the medics (sans frontieres?), fundraisers and carers, givers and listeners, growers of organics, designers of biodegradables. Genetic engineers? Surgeons and researchers, forgivers and forgetters, Billy the bug hunter, Immy the mathematician, Troy the paratriathelete, Wendy the wigwam maker. The ones who go last, the ones who smile, the ones who don’t want to argue about it, the ones who give up their seat, the ones who calm a storm, the ones who cook up a feast, the ones who sing praises, the ones who shine, Auntie Gwen and Malala…… ….and I drink water from a glass bottle. Sue Foster Image by Fernando via Unsplash .
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The Pandemic

Unprecedented Unprecedented Unprecedented Present distress repeated, repeated recent disease breathed present unprecedented, sent in coughs. Cough, cough, cough. This disease sent on the air. Cough, cough, cough. Unprecedented present breathed in unprecedented disease breathed out unprecedented hand-washing unprecedented deaths dent the present. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe out. Dented breathing. Cough. Present deaths unprecedented. Enough. Too many deaths. Too many people. Too many families. This time Covid19. Another SARS disease present. Unprecedented but not unexpected 2020. Sue  Foster
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Always with Us

The morning is cold, The sky is black, An emotion called grief, Is on your back. The storm is ferocious, Emotions peek and trough, The boat is disabled, By our indescribable loss. Gradually the storm, Will begin to ease, Giving breath to talk, Reflect and believe. But just round the corner, With just the breeze, The storm returns, You are on your knees. The sea is unpredictable, The sails carry us along, We begin to feel, Our loved one isn’t gone. With love and care, These storms will pass, The boat’s in order, The sails half mast. It’s a long journey, The boat begins to move with grace, It makes you feel relaxed, And puts a smile on your face, We can recall the memories, With all the love in our heart, They will always be with us, We will never be apart.   by Tonya  
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Leper Chapel - Mosaics of Time

Mudstone mosaics and jumbled fractures - an uneven puzzle waiting; holy stone with leper marks, dotted and spotted black. Ever expanding lichen rings with double oil-spotted rainbow; angular rust-like stains Testing the presence of time. Clenched into cracks Of weathered rocks and broken messages; scarlet snapdragons trailing their cardinal stems. Damp buttress of moss clinging, Festooning the flint; ink spots, stone measles, proud thistle commanding the base. Random yet structured, closely inter-twined cobwebs Fastened carefully to parched and pocketed stones. Chaotic yet ordered toad-like grotesque within; marking essences of devoted and hidden faces. Picture flints grinning their caramel coffee smiles amongst Anglian crags, embracing their forgotten cousins. Stephanie To see the inspiration for this poem and hear it being narrated at the remains of the Leper Chapel, Dunwich, visit this page from our Chronicles of Greyfriars project website.
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Bones on the Shore

We walk the shoreline down in that dark dip at year’s end, while life’s still slumbering. The beach is a graveyard. We clamber, beneath ominous skies, through cathedrals of bones. Beached giants, prone on the sand, gaunt skeletons, arms uplifted, feet still reluctant to leave. In the lifetime of my children, these dinosaurs, these mighty oaks have fallen, their forms sculpted by time and weather, yet even in death they hold such power. They lie, steadfast as ever, awesome, majestic, statuesque, garlanded with gifts from the river: soft green fronds, little crabs, bladder wrack decorating their fingers. For centuries they stood strong, hearing the river’s song: ebb, flow, winter, spring, tide and moon rising, falling, curlew calling, calling. We will walk the shorelines at that bright time of new beginnings, now we are awakening. Jan Armstrong Photo by Daniel Lincoln via Unsplash
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Solitude of Pines

With a frail And uncertain future Breathing in rhythmical pines Calms my thoughts. Solitude I seek Within the forest Amorphous blankets of snow Covering crestfallen waves. Spirited wind Melancholy whispers A tear falls Past traumas relived. Ephemeral bird calls Wispy clouds and frost Revitalises lost energies I no longer feel lost.     Matthew  
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Dunwich Heath Cliff

Beachen sand, coastal gravel Heave and spew with every wave Are fixed above my head Banks of sand, clots of gravel Two million-years adrift Are rolling at my feet Same old, same old Dunwich Cliff, Dunwich Beach: The poetry of sediment remains Tim
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Ominous

Unexpected darkness descends With a decrepit desire for long absent affection, clutching at thin wispy ends with diminished thoughts and caged responses my deserted smile departed. Jill
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King of the Woods

Soft green moss and arching brambles With desperate nettles shooting upright to light. Dense, strong and stable, yet soft delicate and gentle A squirrel runway extending arms, reaching limbs Of sun-drenched lime, mottled light barely touching. Fresh, yet decaying hands of friendship, A ladybird highway knitted together. Beneath a silhouette of darkness, A planet in itself.   by Jess and Stephanie A video showing how this poem was written can be found on the Resources page .
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