Writing is my therapy
I do it to stay sane
And when my feelings
Fluctuate
It helps me feel less strain.
Although I hate pretentiousness
I find the need to write
It’s like an inner turmoil
I can’t help but fight.
© Sophie Harrington (2016)
Writing is my therapy
I do it to stay sane
And when my feelings
Fluctuate
It helps me feel less strain.
Although I hate pretentiousness
I find the need to write
It’s like an inner turmoil
I can’t help but fight.
© Sophie Harrington (2016)
Time goes by too quickly
If you believe
You cannot
Enjoy the little things
You realise you
Get older
Can’t ever imagine you’ll
Last forever
You believe you must
Make the most of it
Frequently
Feels like a month
Passing one day
Often think
You must
Rush
You must not
Find time to play
Always
Busy
Making sure you are
Enjoying every second
For the moment
You live easily
To fill a day
For you
It seems like an age
Since you are a child
(Now read from the bottom up)
Copyright © Sophie Harrington (2016)
Like this poem? Try Slow Down
If you ever feel your tears
More significant than his.
If you ever believe your fears
Are more harrowing than his.
If you think her pain doesn’t cut as deep
Or her loss of a loved one
Is somehow incomplete.
Then you need to think again.
She may be in Aleppo and on the TV news
But try if you can, put yourself in her shoes.
Pregnant and trapped in a city destroyed,
She wanted to flee
But it was impossible to avoid.
An endless killing spree.
She had her baby prematurely
But somehow he survived
He was in his incubator securely
When an air strike arrived.
They targeted the hospital
With a brutal bomb campaign
And little lives so brittle
Were taken with such pain.
That baby’s right to live
Was just as true as yours
His mother’s love to give
Went beyond all wars.
If you ever feel your tears
More significant than his.
If you ever believe your fears
Are more harrowing than his.
If you think her pain doesn’t cut as deep
Or her loss of a loved one
Is somehow incomplete.
Then you need to think again.
He may be in Calais and in the news,
But try if you can, put yourself in his shoes.
Driven from his country by incessant war
His family already decimated
Couldn’t take any more.
A perilous journey horrendously ill-fated.
Though he clung to his mother like glue
He’d never forget the terror
As he lost her at a border queue
Alone since that day from a fateful error.
The despair would only worsen
Though he fought on alone
Treated hardly like a person
He made it to the Jungle on his own.
At only 16, no-one knows where he is
Although they took his name
And his mother saw it on the list
She was too late to claim him, gone in the abyss.
No matter what religion
Or the colour of our skin
No matter where you come from
Or the beliefs you have within
We deserve the same protection
Dignity and care
Compassion is more than a reflection
It’s the very heart of prayer.
Copyright © Sophie Harrington (2016)