About me

I am sixty-three years old and have been staying with Penumbra for the past twelve years. I am nervous and need support, but the staff are always ready to help me cope with life, day or night. I do not drink or use drugs, but my doctor gives me tablets for my nerves and mental illness. On Mondays, I receive my money and the staff drive me to the shop to buy food because of my legs and arthritis. The lassies and men are always helpful, including the manager of the house, Karen. 

How writing poetry helps me 

Writing songs and poems in the early morning at Penumbra has given me something to do and has helped me cope with depression and use my imagination. Writing about what is going on around me, and what is in my mind, has helped me through the years. I also used to sing songs I had learned, as well as songs I had written myself. 

I mostly stay in the house now, and the manager has got me a telly, so I have been watching music on the television. The sun is out, so I can also sit outside in the garden for a while. 

Liberty

Ceiling and a floor and the wall of a cell, 

Men doing time in British jails. 

People outside, do they know what it’s like?

In a jail and suicidal? 

Broke the law so they put you in and lock the door, 

Write a letter to the woman you love, 

But the day will dawn and you’ll get out to live your life. 

A man with money in the bank and a car to drive, 

Dance in the club and forget your time. 

And no more jails ever again, 

Cause Satan’s there with the eyes of hell. 

Depression

Well, a don’t wanna get up and face another day. 

After a night of misery. 

Head feels heavy, ye the body too. 

Locked up inside myself, no room to move. 

Feelings untold in a room that’s cold. 

Depression an overload.

Get up, dress, without any care, 

Get out of the room in despair. 

Clocks tick on, it begins again, 

Waiting for the day to end. 

Skylight

The Mother Earth’s my home, 

Cause I’ve nowhere else to go. 

Shut down the hostels, 

Now I’ve nowhere to go. 

Got no money for a B&B, 

Housing won’t pay my keep. 

The mother Earth’s my home, 

Cause I’ve nowhere else to go. 

Shut down the hostels now, 

I’ve nowhere else to go. 

Student

Just a boy in a Glasgow school, trying to learn something new. Doesn’t want to drive or buy a house but love with the lassies of age. Likes a drink and goes to a club for a pint and vodka and ice. Plays guitar and makes up songs with mates who are in a band. Only young at twenty-one, but doesn’t want kids. Doesn’t use drugs and doesn’t smoke. Goes to the football to watch the Rovers and likes the boxing. Wants to be a doctor and study medicine and talks to a lassie on the phone from the university. Been to Spain on a plane, but too much sun and just came home to Britain.