Bitter Sweet Pill


SKU e-book Category

122 in stock


By Tanya C. Mack

ISBN: 1-84747-136-6
Published: 2007
Pages: 42
Key Themes: poetry, depression, reflection on childhood, bullying, anger



A collection of poetry.

“My deepest inner most thoughts, my escape and my lightness from the dark. A collection relating to death and sorrow and my ways of managing it. Search inside and you will find me.”

About the Author

“I write my life on scraps of paper; sometimes I screw them both up.”

This is how Mack describes her work and there can be no doubt that her poetry explores some of our lowest and loneliest emotions. She looks at the lack of self-worth, hurt and confusion which she has felt and searches for possible reasons; her relationship with her father, subsequent relationships and her experience of bullying.

But she also looks at those things which can provide light in an often dark world:”My children are what hold me together now. I live each day just to hear them say I love you.”

Her honest prose can find resonance in all our pasts and hearts and this is where her sharing can give encouragement and hope to others. As she writes:

“As a teenager I learnt writing was my escape, it kept me from going mad, so every time I feel down or upset I write; I never thought my words would want to be read or could help someone, but now I just hope that my words can touch someone and make them realise they are not alone with their thoughts.”

Book Extract


There are no boats swimming on the river today,
Only the ones sitting – with the waves they sway,
There is no ringing from the church bells today,
As in silence I look at the graves of those gone by,

There are streams of traffic, cars, buses and lorries,
With their big bright eyes pointed forward and gleaming,
With their noise and pollution forward they go,
The noise brings madness to my silent thoughts,

I wonder if one will stop to come and remember,
Or maybe they have forgotten these graves,
Motionless in silence,
These graves of the people that were once here,
Silence is a virtue their bodies adhere to,

Forgotten in the silence of the church bells and waves,
Forgotten in the loudness of busy traffic and crowds,
Forgotten for these memories can hurt if thought of,
Forgotten the names and birthdates that once were,

I thought I was alone in my silence,
But as I turn I see another weary onlooker,
We haven’t forgotten, our memories are still fresh,
We haven’t forgotten like the bells and the cars,
And as our eyes meet and the forgotten are remembered,
We see and in silence we share.



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