Caswell Chat in celebration of National Poetry Day has gathered all the poems ever published in Caswell Clinic's patient magazine and placed them all together to flourish. Also much more.....

Caswell Chat in celebration of National Poetry Day has gathered all the poems ever published in Caswell Clinic's patient magazine and placed them all together to flourish. Also much more.....

Caswell Chat in celebration of National Poetry Day has gathered all the poems ever published at Caswell Clinic and put them all into one place to flourish. Also much more is happening.....

National Poetry Day
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“Poetry ... is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be interior and personal which the reader recognizes as his own.” — Salvatore Quasimodo
Over the years Caswell Chat has published over fifty poems. With poems dotted here and there we have now pulled them altogether into one place. Also under each poem there is a star voting system so between now and a week before National Poetry Day which is being held on 3rd October 2019 , you can vote for any of the poems you like, appreciate, or connect and relate too. Or just like it for some unknown reason.
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Why Vote for a poem?

Some patients at Caswell Clinic are too unwell to leave the clinic. So external encouragement can be a vital stepping stone in building self-confidence. One of many ideas behind Caswell Chat was to give patients a place of expression and communication through the Caswell Chat. We will either publish your comments on the site or pass the feedback onto the patient. You and the patient will be totally ANON.
Patient confidentiality is of prime importance and fully respected.
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Poetry Comes in Many Forms
carving into tree bark
I am a camel that walks in the desert, I am a scroll that tastes so sweet, I am a witness to the coming ,I am an angel on a leash
Poetry In
E-Motion ?
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When I’m awake, My head is like a snake, Curling around, making me frown, Too much of this is making me itch.
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Birds sing from all around, Its seems at first that the fence confines them too, But I gaze up with envious admiration As they glide with ease over the boundary. I refuse to walk the well worn grass path, Beaten brown by sad souls. I’ll make my own tracks Looking up not down,
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No place to go, save in my head, At times I wish that I was dead, I hope, one day, to leave this place, And rejoin the Human Race.
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To Find and Discover a Poem

Follow the Arrow

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