Poetry by Harriet Knock
Harriet Knock is a poet, author and mental health advocate from North Devon, and a mum of five young children. Her writing explores mental health, healing, motherhood and finding strength during life’s struggles. She draws inspiration from everyday life, personal experiences and the beauty found in ordinary moments. Alongside her poetry, Harriet shares glimpses of family life on Instagram at @making_ahouse_ahome. Her other books, including Emerging from the Storm and Anchored by Little Hands, are available on Amazon under her author name, Harriet Knock.
S.A.D
Teardrops splatter across the windowpane,
A sorrowful entrance for an autumn downpour of rain,
Who knew so many of us were affected by SAD?
It turns out the rate of Seasonal Affective Disorder is quite bad,
3 in 100 of us will be affected by severe winter depression,
Yet struggling with the weather doesn’t need a confession,
The dark skies cloud our minds in a blanket of grey,
It’s not a choice we make to feel this way,
The sun brings us joy, gives us hope, makes us feel bright…
But the dark gloom of autumn and winter steals away our light,
It’s hard to feel happy and sunny inside,
When the weather outside brings down our mind,
It’s hard to feel uplifted when skies are so grey,
When the wind and the rain wash our sunshine away,
The storms and the gloom, the dark and the foggy,
It makes us feel bleak, it turns our thoughts groggy,
Add winter’s lurgies, the germs and the flu,
You can’t blame us for wishing for skies of bright blue,
A few months of resting, of simply pushing through,
Then when spring brings us sunshine, we’ll feel like us again, too.
Bristol Autumn Mornings
Gentle colours of red, orange, and russet brown,
As the autumn leaves come tumbling down,
A carpet of gold and sunset upon the ground,
The beauty of this season really is all around,
The morning commute, a busy rush,
But autumn doesn’t understand the fuss,
As the breeze billows with a gentle blow,
And the people hurry to and fro,
An autumnal drink balanced in one hand,
A busy day of meetings planned,
The hustle and bustle of a Bristol autumn morning,
Yet nature is slow, with the leaves still gently falling,
It’s the season of rest, of hibernation and hush,
But the noise in this city, it will not shush.
The Smell of Rain
The summer breeze now a thing of the past,
As the air hangs heavy, with rain moving fast,
The smell in the air of the pavements now damp,
Is something I wish we could bottle-up and stamp,
I’d sell it for a fortune, that smell of fresh rain,
The desirable scent that autumn-lovers crave again, and again,
It’s back for another year, so soak it all in,
As the raindrops flow pouring down,
drip, drop, dripping.
Recipes
