The clients at the Manor women’s project are encouraged to write poetry and we have run several poetry workshops with local poets. Here is just a sample of some of the poems that have been written.
Please try to understand why I’m in this mess
Please try to understand why I am in this mess instead of trying to blame me and making me more depressed. How does a child understand the evil that’s done by men, just look in the eyes of innocents of a child that’s only ten, being made to do things I just didn’t understand, sweets, toys, and secrets that are definitely underhand.
As I start to get older and realise these things aren’t right, I’d lie awake sobbing in the middle of the night, who do I turn to what do I say who will believe me, perhaps it might just go away. Then I get the courage and finely decide to tell, why will no one believe me it makes my life more hell. Maybe they are discussed or maybe it’s the shame or maybe they don’t want to blacken the family name.
Early teens soon appear but those horrible thoughts are still very clear Intruding into my mind every day, please God make them go away. These thoughts are so strong I cannot cope, death seems the answer my only hope, was it my fault I think time and again, if I ended it now there will be no more pain.
As usual I was feeling down that’s when someone offered me a smoke of brown, the first time I took it, it made me feel sick, but after the illness my mind started to tick because all through the sickness and the rest of the day the horrible thoughts had gone away, for the first time I can remember my head was clear and I hadn’t touched a can of beer
Maybe I’d found a brand new friend one that could help me, help me to mend, by taking heroin every day made those bad thoughts go away, at last I can live a normal life with no more pain and no more strife. Little did I realise that this new friend would become my master on who I would depend.
A friend you can trust he is definitely not he ended up taking everything I had got. What is happening what will I do all I have done is times my problem by two and I now know the meaning of catch 22 because I’m dammed if I don’t take it I am dammed if I do.
This poem was read out by one of the girls from the Manor women’s project on BBC radio Ipswich and city radio Ipswich.
An open Christmas card for our Ipswich sisters
Your dealer does not care and yes it is not fair
the money you put his way while you’re out working night and day.
So now at last there’s no excuse
course we all know there is a predator loose.
Five of our sisters have already perished
families of all whom they have cherished
so please girls don’t you walk the beat
the disgusting, dirty, filthy street.
Soon enough it comes to night
please Ipswich girls do what’s right.
We were once like you, we share your pain
so don’t let your lives go down the drain.
Playing with your life the punters will do
they don’t care what happens to you.
To all you girls we share your pain
out on the streets through the cold and rain.
Up and down the dirty beat
parading round like cattle meat.
So come on girls you know what I mean
its now the time for you to get clean.
Dedicated to the five Ipswich girls who tragically lost their lives in 2006
To the person who made me start on drugs
I was a princess leading the Queen
to her beautiful throne you should have seen
A big assembly at my infant School
In my pink sparkly dress I looked like a jewel
The next time I wore it I couldn’t believe
how special I felt that New Year’s Eve
Again I was a princess all night long
I waited for you that decision was wrong
Still wearing that dress a princess no more
Distraught, confused I ran for the door
We went to the party saw in the New Year
My heart in my throat I couldn’t cheer
My life was over before it began
Trashed, ruined, in the can
Drink, pills, drugs, I took all I could get
Anything and everything to make me forget
Barely alive I struggled by
Selling myself then getting high
You took away all that I had
I was your princess you were my Dad
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