Creative Corner

Welcome to our membership creative corner where we showcase your talent.

If you'd like to submit your own work then please email us at membership@rethink.org - we'd love to add yours to the collection!

This section is open to members. If you're not a member but want to join our community and send your work, you can find out more about membership and sign up here.

David Phillips: 'Paradise Flower' made from wallpaper samples

Motherhood Becky Marshall — Pringle Award nomination 2024: Beckie Marshall, Motherhood

Hope Blooms, Catherine Mccauley — Pringle Award nomination 2024: Catherine McCauley, Hope Blooms

Harriet Cook Hewitt, Understanding My Spirits (1) — Pringle Award winner 2024: Harriet Cook Hewitt, Understanding my spirits

Pringle Award nomination 2024: Barbara Hulme, Understanding Agoraphobia

Denny Reader (1) — Pringle Award nomination 2024: Denny Reader

Graham Gilianurs, 3 Beacons Of Hope — Pringle Award nomination 2024: Graham Gilianurs, 3 Beacons of Hope

Hugo De Brett, Nuts Are We — Pringle Award nomination 2024: Hugo De Brett, "Nuts Are We!"

Lee Palton, Road Of Life — Pringle Award nomination 2024: Lee Palton, Road of Life

Pringle Award nomination 2024: Madeleine Pickett

Pringle Award nomination 2024: Sandra Hopkins

Pringle Award nomination 2024: Tony Fisher. Burnham-on-Sea

Steph Collins Inclusion 1 (2) — Steph: 2023 Pringle Award art winner

Poems and Stories

Christmas season story

in nero there was this girl, she was non descript, so I wont describe her

but she was familiar. There was a warm glow in her expression. Thoughtful..

I approached her without realizing what I was doing..

could I say she had a jesus like quality? Well I just have. Could she save me?

As I got closer, she looked up from the ground and looked at me

“hello” I said. She had pale lipstick and blue eyeshadow. I liked her style. Was she an angel?

Did god exhist?

Id used her time enough, I thought, so I left the shop. I was walking on air.

Then I floated into the sky. Noone saw me do it, which was strange.

I went higher and higher, I reached the clouds which is where I stopped. I could go no further.

I became the rain, then a rainbow and I rained down on the earth.

I woke up in my bed. I don’t mean my current bed…. There was heavy rain at the window. I was safe and sound.

I was 4 years old, I could hear mum and dad in the kitchen but they weren’t arguing. They were laughing.

It was all good..

my sister was in the bed next to me. I was surrounded by soft toys

so what happens next?

Is it going to be like this for now on?

It was obviously heaven, but the garden of eden was heaven like and look how they spoiled that.

I want things to stay like this -please

I had an idea to test if it was real

my alli cat toy had earings that my mum sowed on when I got her. This was a detail that may tell me the answer..

there was no earing on her.. this was not reality then.

I remembered the girl, I remembered nero

that was real, but which did I want?

I felt I had a choice

I may be trapped in either so I thought carefully

I decided reality, I had people I loved and cared for in this world, however shit it could get. im more use to them alive.

I was back in nero in a flash. Surrounded by chatting, humming noises and christmas lights..

the girl had left it seemed

its not so bad here, then when I left the shop, the air was grey, I immediately stepped on some chewing gum, my foot sticking to the ground. The opposite of before. This irony made me laugh

some passers by gave me a look like I was mad, laughing at nothing.

Maybe I am..

I went to super drug and bought some light lipstick and blue eyeshadow.

now I am the angel of croydon, stuck to this earth
Here is where I confront the darkness,
Here is where I try and fight,
Here is where I transition from no insight to
the blinding light,
Here is where I learn new skills to cope,
Maybe a torch for the darkness is the hope,
Here is where I learn to re-engage,
Moving from isolation, that binds me to darkness every step of the way,
Here is where I have protected time, support sessions focusing on me for the 1st time,
Here is where I will meet people that are on journeys too, all just try to pull through,
Here is where there is no judgement, or preconceived ideas,
Here is where we aren’t polluted by the toxic outside world,
Here is where you shouldn’t be afraid, you could start a new chapter,
Here is where hope can shine so bright,
Here is where the light shines into your soul, and pulls your hope, your energy, your spark into full glow,
Here is where I find myself again,
Here is where I get power & a chance to start again,
So if you have an opportunity to spend some time, be patient
and take your time, it’s hard at first it always is
Those outside influences pull you back it seems,
but those who want the best for you, will see that the crisis house
is an opportunity for them & you,
To rebuild a version of you that’s brighter and stronger than before,
So take the opportunity with both hands, take a deep breath in, walk through the door
And be accepted for who you are and who you will become!

“The poem is a reflective poem of some time that I spent in a crisis house. Towards the end of my stay, I was able to become a little more creative with my time.”
Coughing can hurt” I say telepathically.  
This is to those who cough repressively or disapprovingly. 
I lose my place at medical school. The wound is deep, sore. 
There are snares in life that could surely kill. 
Deceitful, thuggish, murderous telepathic voices. 
They seem to me the voices of tormenting devils. 
Traffic and horns, coughing, camera surveillance. Guilt. 
Letters with no answer drain energy. Love unrequited. 
The answers for me come with reading and Shree Mataji.  
Sahaja Yoga could be the lifeline for humanity. 
I cling for dear life. I believe Shree Mataji can save us.  
“God spoke to you by so many voices…” 
Books, balance, love, friendly laughter, courage, Sahaja Yoga. 
May our souls, spirits, inner voices break through to the light.  

“I have had mental health problems since 15 years old in 1979 and been treated with an antipsychotic since 1986, when I left medical school and was not considered for re-admission. I did manage to work as a pharmacist for over 15 years, which included being monitored by the pharmacy council. I am grateful for fiction and Sahaja Yoga meditation, which is free.  
People need a lift mentally I would say. Inside we need a lot more support. 
“Silence Your Mind” (2013) by Dr Ramesh Manocha, GP and researcher at the university of Sydney, presents good medical evidence for Sahaja Yoga. Do see your GP at least, with referral to a psychiatrist a consideration, about mental health problems. Ask the doctors what they think. Ask them what they think about your mental health problems and what they think of Sahaja Yoga.  
We should not close up like distrustful secret agents. It’s time to change and live more peacefully. ”
Language breaks down
When thoughts take flight
Aliens within the intersubjective I
An interstellar journey gone wrong
A Martian left behind on Earth
Stewing in pods of common sense

Singularity travels far beyond
When meaning manifests in nothingness
Invasions within the interrogative I
All the wreckage of the spaceship
A Martian left behind on Earth
Morphing into societally accepted codes

Words become calculations
When numbers smile and dance
Signals within the interoceptive I
An otherworldly condition resisting its cure
A Martian left behind on Earth
Drowning in streams of pure awareness

Solitude welcomes the enemy
When perception permeates its veil
Formulations within the introspective I
All the remains of the motherboard
A Martian left behind on Earth
Continuing the voyage via infinitiva

“I believe this poem reflects on the theme of 'Understanding' - or rather, reflects on the lack of understanding and misunderstanding of people living with schizophrenia. People with schizophrenia can often feel like aliens on Earth, sometimes in a very literal sense. The condition itself is already extremely isolating and alienating, however the attitudes of society never stop to add insult to injury. In this poem I hope to combine both of these aspects, including how people are forced to 'stew in common sense'. Also I want to highlight the importance of the self-disturbance framework in understanding schizophrenia (in the poem, this is represented by the four different types of 'I'), which is in fact what I have dedicated my career to researching. Still, the interstellar voyage to find meaning must continue, despite the alienation and the lack of understanding.”
Some days I am looking over my shoulder
And some days I am looking ahead.
And some days I look down at my toes and notice the colours I have painted them
The fear and the panic often lies close to me
Terrifying memories
And then the other memories come
And soothe me like an embrace
My children
My children
And again I see my body
My feet
My arms
My belly
My face
I am here
And I bore babies
And I am here
Do you UNDERSTAND?!
I’d hear loud and strong,
When correction of behaviour 
Was dealt with by hand or tongue. 
From then the connotation was somewhat negative
When understanding was required
In everyday I lived. 

Eyes closed, ears shut.
The trigger strikes me in the gut!
But no one knows what’s happening.
“What would people think?”
The trigger is released,
I try to keep it sealed inside 
This confidence knocking, hidden beast.

Years pass by, I live and learn 
From others who are wise and
Gain experience by just living life. 
I have calmed and tamed the beast, 
I no longer rage or run away
The trigger has now ceased.
Because I now know I have a choice.
Do I keep my self closed off or open my mind?
I can take control and choose how to react When I hear “Do you understand?”
It’s a question of confirmation, a helpful phrase you see.

I can say ‘yes I do’ or 
‘No, please explain to me’.
My confidence is now restored which helps me understand, 
As I observe, learn and ask
Without fear of reprimand. 
I love to learn and understand 
About our universe
I’m living now, I’m not here to rehearse. 

There’s a lot to be said of an objective view
Many don’t but think they do!
An appreciation and an empathetic heart, 
Are skills you cannot learn
They really are an art.
To truly understand, to see from another’s view
Maybe walk a mile or so in another’s shoes.
Try carrying their backpack of happiness and blues 
And when your journey in their shoes reaches the mile end, 
Return their shoes & backpack
‘Safe journey’ to them send.
Then reflect, and think some more
Now hopefully you’ll understand
More than you did before. 
My CPN says I am “too extreme
I must control my moods.”
The overall opinion of her team
Is I’m unreasonable and rude.

Their latest offer is group DBT
Six sessions then an overall review.
I thought: “This will be very hard for me
It isn’t really what I want to do.”

I know that I get angry and uptight
My Mum and I do not see eye to eye
My meltdowns clearly aren’t a pretty sight
I hate myself and vow that I will try

To modify my breathing and my thoughts
And notice when I’m doing something well.
It’s not a simple illness that I’ve caught
It’s more: “My feelings plunge me into hell.”

What’s the answer? Well, I do not know!
But help me please, and I will tell you how.
Be there for me when I am deeply low
Don’t flood me with advice, but just allow

Some trust between us soon to really grow
No judgment, no exclusion. Hold my hand
And walk with me wherever I may go
And then, perhaps, I’ll start to understand.
They walk in proudly.
They walk in expected.
They walk in anticipation.
The babies and toddlers are accompanied by parents and family.
To spend time with, to bond with, to help residents live well.
They play, they chat, they interact, they smile, they laugh.
They bring in with them – a life.
A life without restriction
They learn from us.
We learn from them.
We live near one another.
Yet so far apart
This is the beginning of a new journey.

“Poem inspired by bringing babies into care home for dementia patients.”
I do not want your sympathy

Nor do I need you to understand

All I ask is you show a little empathy

When depression takes my hand

Do not cross the road to avoid my path

Or whisper so that I may not hear

I only want a chat and a laugh

My friendship to still be held dear

The illness which lies deep within my mind

Cannot be seen by you or anyone

But take the time to talk, do not be blind

Do not be scared of me please do not run

I do not want to lose my family my friends

Just because of my mental health

The deep dark hole into which I descend

Cannot be filled with luxury or wealth

So next time you see me please say hi

It may not be as scary as you may think

I will be honest with you and never lie

A friend is all I need so that I may not sink

“My poem My Depression, was written in the hope that it may help those affected by a loved one's illness. So many people still do not understand what it can be like for those of us who go through poor mental health. Being ignored, or spoken about like we are not present are just 2 of the things I noticed.
Sometimes, it is better to say anything rather than nothing at all, so if you know someone, whether a friend or a loved one going through depression or some kind of mental torture, try to just be there, chat, listen and most of all, be kind.”
It is more than a building
Overtime the building has remained the changed
Activities contained within the building has changed
It is an unofficial creche, a homeless shelter, the teaching of the English Language, offers guidance and advice to access welfare.
It provides a safe space for the lonely
It offers coffee at an affordable price
It is a place where pupils walk in to access the learning in a warm space
Until their parents arrive after 7pm.
Access to food banks, uniform banks, hygiene products, winter coats.
It has become the heart of the community
Serviced once by paid Council workers now volunteers have taken over.
They have turned these spaces into spaces to go, spaces to learn and spaces to stay safe.

“Poem is inspired by the changing of libraries over time when funding is short and where the buildings are repurposed and new life is breathed into them.”
The beauty salon
Is
Has become an island of freedom
Away from the public gaze
Away from oppressive rules and regulations
Aims to control women like me
This space served a purpose
The cutting of hair
The application of makeup
Eyebrow shaping
Interrupted only by the call for prayers
These safe spaces are hidden
These safe spaces are needed
These safe spaces enable women to be employed
These safe spaces exist because other public spaces have been closed.
The beauty salon is a place where creative lives and survives.

“The banning of education and the closure of beauty salons became an underground movement for women to thrive and survive.”
The walk takes place once a month.
The invite is open to all.
No faith required.
Come with an open mind, come with curiosity, come to learn, think, reflect
Come to discover local community culture and faith heritage.
You will walk on foot – all 3. 5 miles of it
To the 5 places of worship
To discover the bits of Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism and Christian (Roman Catholic and Church of England)
To step into buildings of faith and the faiths contained within them
The walk will be punctuated by a vegetarian meal
Ends with the Cathedral and refreshments.
The walk links into the town’s culture and faith heritage.
It is to look beyond the doors
To see what is on the other side of the doors
To meet members of the communities that represent a faith
To listen to what is being spoken
To ask questions
To be curious
The space is safe
The space is to learn, grow and reflect.
The walk connects to life, to community, to action and to strengthen relationships.

“Faith walks that allow people to grow and learn and not allow others to damage and destroy like the riots in the summer.”
Bundle of Joy
New, fresh, clean and bright
Hopes and dreams reaching for the light

Children
Wild, savage, different, my sprite
Awe and wonder, an absolute delight

Teens
The mist descends we seem to drift
How can we ever mend this widening rift.

Adults
Haunted by demons, visions and delusions
How can I save them, fix them and confusions

Understanding
Not their dreams or hopes but mine
Not my place to fix , mend and make shine

Understanding
They are resilient and brave
Their own way they must and can pave

Understanding
Walking beside on this stony path,
Together to wellness, sharing a laugh.

“I have written a poem about understanding.

Documenting my journey as a mother throughout the declining mental health of both my children.
My Children both have severe mental illnesses and I have been their main carer since I was widowed at the age of 50. My children are in their mid thirties and I have been on this journey for over 20 years.

I hope my poem is a verse many people will be able to relate to and also which ends in hope if not for the life you thought they would have as little children but for the remarkable people that have become.”