Storying Sheffield

Two poems by Sammi


My name is Sammi, I’m an ex-dependent drinker and am a service-user of DISC supported housing. Throughout my recovery poetry has been an important and helpful tool. It has helped me to express my emotions without picking up a drink, which I may have in the past. I have also undertaken various courses with DISC and have recently completed an 8 week Recovery Education Programme at the Limbrick Centre, Sheffield. This has been beneficial, promoting my independence and has shown me that I am a person and not just a named illness or addiction.


I have a little garden deep inside my head
Where all the weeds are growing and
All the flowers are dead.
Once a healthy garden with flowers fresh and new
Beautiful healthy flowers that were kissed by morning dew.

Then one day it happened
My flowers twisted and died.
Trampled, stamped and twisted
Like my bruised and battered pride.

Everyone’s gardens around me
Blossomed, bloomed and grew.
Yet nothing but thorns and ivy
Sprouted up from where I had sowed.

The weeds they grew above me
And hid much needed light
Suffocated and poisoned
No-one could hear my plight.

No-one came to see my garden
Now just a simple grave
Everything so empty
Nothing left to save.

So now I’ll start a new garden
Somewhere fresh and new
Kissed by the morning sunshine
And drenched by morning dew.

With nothing left to hide me
I have nothing but my pride.
No more twisted gardens
Each beside my side.

So remember twisted gardens
In a year or so
Vengeance will be mine
What you reap is what you sow.


I sit alone and I wonder why,
Why does my son make me cry?
Do I do too little?
Do I do too much?
Am I obsessed by the slightest touch?

I taught him to speak and now I scream “Shut up”.

I taught him to crawl and then moan “Stand up”.

I wonder why I blame my son, when he doesn’t
Understand what he’s done wrong.

I take for granted every smile,
And thank God when he’s quiet a while.

But to teach the right path, I have to re-learn
To bite my tongue, and not look so stern.

At the end of the day he is half of me,
Am I mad at him or the faults that I see?

So I’ll try to sit back and hope to learn
Give praise and stickers for the good that he’s learned.

I blame my son so easily,
But, at the end of the day he has learnt it off me.