IHSCM Poetry Anthology 2022

Poetry Anthology

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A collection of poems written by IHSCM Members

Since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic, the wellbeing of our members has been at the forefront of everything that we do. We moved all our events online and established our thriving Mental Health and Workforce Wellbeing Special Interest Groups so members could meet on a regualr basis and discuss the impact of the pandemic on their personal lives, their colleagues and friends, and how we could support each other.

We held online a week long Wellbeing Festival in February 2022 and wellbeing workshops, including yoga, mindful breathing, demonstrations on forest walking and wild swimming, shared resources and sign-posted to addtional support, sang our hearts out for our first ever karaoke evening, played our joker in a general knowledge quiz, and created storytelling, creative writing, and poetry workshops, led by PoetsIN - The Creative Mental Health Charity, and Charlotte Lunn, published poet.

Together with our members, we have compiled our thoughts and feelings of the past two years into written word; many written during our wellbeing workshops, and have published this anthology of poems so that others can seek solace in our words.

We will continue to encourage and support the wellbeing of our members as we move into 2023 and beyond, introducing regional inperson wellbeing activities with the support of IHSCM Wellbeing Ambassadors.

As ever, thank you to all of you working hard in health and social care, for everything you have done, and continue to do, making a difference to the lives of others. We are forever grateful.

And for the times you need support, we will always be here. contact@ihm.org.uk Best wishes Team IHSCM

Just Little Old Me

By Ange Wilson This morning I have have been going through endless emails, responding, judging, deciding, a myriad of questions fill my thought, my head, my every part of me how can this be one person? so many intricate pieces, so many unknown realities where do they come from? and where will they go? who knows, not me, that's for sure.

Still, I am here typing, not really thinking I can hear the birds outside I wonder what thoughts they have, what are they feeling? can they hear me? do they know I exist?

I have existed and I will in the future this mass of atoms swirling around the universe just little old me.

The Mug

By Mariyam Karolia The mug is silent yet says I love you from he Who made me this cup of tea The mug is cold, yet fills me With the heat of friendship Because of she who gave it to me The mug is blind, yet shows me The pride in and of the Place we call Gods country The mug is deaf, yet hears And soothes my anxieties And fears of becoming who I can be.

Burnout

By Ivy Glavee Brave Unique Resilience Nice Outstanding Unity Transformation

Holiday

By Paul Chambers Hush and shush, Mediterranean waves lapping Spanish heated sand not one British voice in earshot local wine, book in hand Tomorrow morning we’ll paddle for now, warm skin, sunkissed land

This Oyster Shell

By George Parker I am made for children to cup, hollow to hollow, against their ears.

To press into hands of their own giants, to say, Listen, and have one towering pillar of grey and rules abandon sense for an instant and say, Yes. The ocean resides here.

Through me, they pretend they can hear the sea; the miracle of their blood rushing through their head is not miracle enough to them.

Tide-strewn, I am erotic; the rough kiss of my outer shell doesn’t dissuade the true pilgrims from wanting to pry me open, suck the meat from inside.

Find, with inquisitive fingers, my pearl.

Even after my flesh is long gone, you find my finger-slip smooth inside, a prize for your salt-stained lips and sanded brow to press into.

My Buddha Statue

By Eric Smith Calm, Wise, Mindful, Peaceful, At one with the universe, Spiritual, Clarity!

Gratitude

By Ange Wilson I cherish everyone who makes me feel alive each creation that makes me feel good inside I celebrate all that is pure that carries my heart to song to hear, listen reflect and honestly act I am grateful to be unconstrained able to let my spirit rise reckless and free and dance the jamboree of life.

Women Represents The Empty Cup of Shake

By Suchismita Ghoshal

Wherever I see emptiness adorned beautifully, It makes me remember this could be nothing But the entire entity of women.

This empty container, painted with scrambled chocolate sauce Reminds me of the days when a woman is Subjected to give comfort even if she feels sucked from inside.

Her flesh might give the taste of flavours, She may appear like her best, Ravishing enough to knock you down in a few seconds, But holds no intent to be fucked.

You suck her like you sucked the entire coffee in seconds, You love to take in the distinguished taste of every little ingredient.

Your tongue finds the euphoric pleasure when You can differentiate the taste of her vagina and breasts Like the same way you do between brewing coffee and ice-cream.

The chilling effect was your appeasement When you finally compared her body with the ice-cubes That brings down the fire in your soul.

You hate when she speaks in between, As the dominance eats your head With the idea that the same authority men access shouldn't be on the plate of a woman.

You hate when you feel interruption As she doesn't let you peacefully murder her everyday, You hate if she screams and cries as you may feel the orgasm but she feels the trauma You hate if she bleeds on her periods As it won't be the night of your experiments on your home-pet "wife",

You hate it, all of it, all she does and says until She represents you with the bindi, sharee, gunghat, a plate of curry, sabzi, water-filled glass at your night table And you stare on her sagging breast While you eat your dishes burning her with your look along with eating her, half, there, at the very minute.

She isn't an eatable like your lunch and dinner, She isn't a cup of shake like your cold coffee And you never understood any of it!

The last day when I took the last sip of coffee, It shook me from inside, it broke me down with the strange thought As the vacuum of the cup Before my last slurp could quite familiarize the terror women go through When they are sucked,- sorry, fucked!

And tasted for the sake of sexual contentment.

Have you seen the lines before a red light area?

You can easily define it as a queue of prostitutes and also a queue of hungry men, right?

But I , I do see different type of pleasant shakes in different forms, colours and tastes Are showcased before a summer-tired bunch of customers who are jostling with their vigour, pride and erect manhood To compete, who could finish them up the fastest.

It's strange how one by one, part by part, Each glass of shake is distributed among them, They jump, taste & finish them up just like winning a race.

Here, the contest is easier as they are meant to be fucked only, quite like "use and throw".

I believe if this race could be introduced in Olympic, No country would witness any drought in their medal-list.

The women could be drunk like palatable shakes And men would keep on showing their glorious triumph in winning medals for the sport 'fuck like you drink shakes', in a gap of every four years.

Dost

By Mariyam Karolia Along the tiger skin grass, I crawl One leg then another, Return to toddler goals, Not there yet, Keep rising but I fall.

I face the truth of who I am The strength, the pain. I know I can Defeat all of that which fate will throw And I will wind my way through that flow Of life Precipitation on my fingertips As my hands reach on high to grip You. I pull myself up with waning strength I wobble, tell myself I won’t trip This journey may end up the length Of the Ganges, the Nile, the Yukon all told Can’t go under when you’re there to hold And say Dost.

Aap akely nahee hay.

My friend

Now You See Me

By Ange Wilson Hello, now you see me, as clear as a bell, I see so much through my little squares of glass, sometimes joyous words and pictures, dance before me sometimes dark and hateful images that scar all come from the mind of someone, often someone I do not know when I hear a tip-pee type I know it is her words the coffee steams me up she puts me on now and then still believing she does not need me (she does really)

Mickey Mouse

By Jade Maloney It probably smells the chocolate stain near his nose.

It’s seen a lot I'm sure. Its eyes bobbly and grey.

Its festive hat not so festive, but rather mundane.

If its buttons were real they would have likely fallen off.

It has seen a lot, but its special inside.

You may not see them, but its full of memories and laughter.

Pen on its mouth from learning to write with my daughter.

Floppy feet. If it could walk, they'd be worn down.

It’s been carried around the house, loved, then thrown on the ground.

Is it happy? I'm sure it is.

It makes my little girl smile when they interact.

It's not alive, but it has lived.

Covid19 Reflections

By Ivy Glavee We will remember!

We will remember!

One dark night the Tsunami arrived and pierced through the darkest night.

There was Lockdown, Keyworkers to keep us going.

Rainbow in windows to give us hope.

Clapping, trapping of hands to appreciate our staff who are the heartbeat of the service.

So many losses of loved ones but we will remember.

You are never alone!

The lessons learnt – Resilience and that it is possible to work from home and Digital platforms are fruitful.

There was kindness, loving and sharing as we join together as a Community!

Then there was HOPE! Vaccine arrived! We go out to breathe in fresh air wearing masks and social distancing.

What a year 2020 was!

We are Stronger!

We are Kind!

We are loving!

We will remember!

One day we will meet again!

Thank you to all!

A Cup of Tea

By Jon Wilks A cup of tea brought to my bedside in the morning demonstrates continued affection. it might not attract headlines, but it is humble, and a true connection that says 'I love you'.

You Are Not Alone

By Ivy Glavee The journey may be long, wrong, song but be still.

Life may seem like a football field where there are times goals are scored but other times none.

Remember you are not alone.

Remember be still, still and still.

Find peace, peace, with yourself.

Please be kind and love yourself till your cup overflows so that you can give some to others and make the world a better place.

Be still.

I repeat be still.

Be kind, I repeat be kind.

Be loving, I repeat be loving!

Powering Up Thought

By Jade Maloney

It’s early I’m on time but ill prepared I’m scared I’m worried I’ll be asked What do I think of this?

What do I think of that?

I sip my coffee to power up thought I know this, I learnt it before Why do my thoughts take so long to surface Does my brain do this to me on purpose?

Concentrate.

Take some notes.

Get back on track with a sip of gold roast Don’t start day dreaming about the sun and coast

You are prepared, but maybe tired You’ve spent so long learning you’re just needing to be rewired.

Sit up in your chair Ground yourself Stop thinking about Christmas and Mischief the Elf. It’s your turn now Speak up Tell them what you’ve been doing No, not day dreaming Working hard Trying your best Taking time to get things right Tell them about the thought you had last night.

Doing this may benefit the team You’ve been working with ‘X’ to rebuild the dream Your team is doing amazing And it’s all down to the success Of powering up a thought and leading them to take care of the rest.

You’re not ill prepared You may be slightly tired But you get there in the end And the power of thought is much to be desired.

Beach Senses

By Lisa Morris Background squeals of joy and pleasure Late afternoon sun warming the skin Family connection and love warming the space within Saltiness in the air tickling the nose Mixed with smoky scents and sizzling sounds Hiraeth for times long gone, bound up in my heart Like the fading light of evening

Collective Poem Written during the IHSCM Poetry Night 10th February 2022

By Paul Chambers, Ivy Glavee, Jade Maloney, Doreen McCollin, Lola Omotoso, Adam Purnell, Michaela Shannon, Helen Shelswell, Jon Wilks

Sunshine slips under my skin, bones warming from the chill of the sea Of joy divine and peace untold Hush and shush, Mediterranean waves Local wine, book in hand Music is like food for the soul Stimulating happiness, that's always the goal The day is dawning, another day to enjoy the sweet air, the sunshine and the beautiful world Sea, sand and greenery, melding in all together

The dew is still fresh The Sun just born We’re the first here Tomorrow morning we’ll paddle Happy sea of love and seashells It will be here before we know it my dear For now, warm skin, sun kissed land For life has begun again

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