Prison Poetry
This poem is in memory of my creator, my mother May your soul see these words. Leo…Mother…Mom… Giver of eyes that witness love pure as the spark You gave to ignite my breath of existence. You the warrior, teacher, philosopher, guardian angel. Barrier of trial and tribulation, let these words fill your heart and soul with recognition. This paper, these scratches from this pen are beating from my heart Harlon, Tehacapi, CA |
The Birth In ancient lands both near and far A promise made in sacred Word The wise men sought by distant star Be it seen or be it heard. Angels voiced in shepherd’s hearts The promise of the Birth fulfilled Man’s curse of banishment departs As all who rise in faith are healed. In darkened day of wintery chill As barren nature shrinks with death The word is heard while all is still In precious sound of baby’s breath. What innocence in manger lay A gift to free the captive soul The Bread of Life in bed of hay Who have himself to make man whole. O Christmas bells, do sound thy ring! Announce to all the newborn King! A song for joy for all to sing! The greatest gift this Birth will bring! O Light Divine, O Christ within Be born to all the lost this night Shine from the heart and free from sin The weary soul in need of Light. May Light be born in man today May Life arise from nature’s tomb May Truth arise to guide The Way The Word of God, Divine Bridegroom. Alexis, Holdenville, OK |
| The Letter I was sitting in my cell last night Very lonely and depressed you see When the bossman stopped at my door And said he had a letter there for me. Now who could that be from? Was the thought going through my mind. I hadn’t heard from any of my old friends In such a long, long time. So, I looked down at the envelope And saw a name I used to know. One who had been a friend And a lot of years ago. I was afraid to open it up And even more scared not to. What would she have to say? Oh, this is too good to be true! My hands were shaking oh so hard And my heart was racing, too. As I pulled the letter out And began to read it through. She told me about her family Who had been born and who had died. When she told of pain that she’d endured I just sat down and cried. I thought back to a time When I had hurt her bad. You see I walked out on her When I was all she had. Shawn Colorado City, CA |
To All the Little Boys’ Fathers There are little eyes upon you, They’re watching night and day, There are little ears that quickly take in everything you say, There are little hands all eager, To do everything you do, A little boy who’s dreaming of the day he’ll be like you, You’re the little fellow’s idol, You’re the wisest of the wise, In his mind no suspicions ever rise, He believes in you devoutly, Holds all that you say and do, He will say and do in your way, When he grow’s up – just like you, There’s a wide-eyed sweet little fellow, Who believes you’re always right, His eyes are always open as he watches day and night You’re setting an example, Everyday in all you do, For the little boy is waiting to grow up and be like you. Anthony Corcoran, CA |
What If I Died In Prison What if I died in prison Would anyone know my name? Would anyone even notice Or would everything stay the same? Who would come to my funeral? The guards, they sure would not care, The Warden, the inmates, my cellie, Would even the Chaplain be there? Who would give my eulogy? I don’t know what to expect. Why would they wait ‘till I died To finally show some respect? Would there be an article in the paper Someone would cut out and save? Where would they lay me to rest If nobody digs me a grave? I guess I’ll never know. The question still remains: What if I died in prison, Would anyone know my name? John |
Lemon yellow, Prussian blue, Green brings them together, It’s so beautiful, believe me, it’s true! Can you see it in your mind? Look deep, stay focused, don’t fall behind. Can you imagine the radiant colors? Concentrate, if only for 5 minutes— Share this with others! Appreciate the beauty of it all. Use paints, whatever shade, it’s your call. Take advantage of what colors have to offer. For they have a tendency to make us softer. Arturo, Beaumont, TX |
Do Not Look Down Upon Our Fall You remember Cagliostro, The initiate sublime? He worked many wonders That some would call divine. Many time he healed the ailing, Turned metals into gold. May have followed St. Germain (at least so I’ve been told). But is it known to you as well That before he gained the Light He was in and out of prison For a string of different crimes? A hoodlum in his younger days, Unruly, full of strife; Even chased out of Italy Before the age of twenty-five! Yet illumination WAS achieved, This we know full well. But many a day in his wild youth Was spent inside a cell. Please pay attention to these words Understand them if you might, Different lessons for us all; Some heavy, some light. So just because we’ve seen the Dungeon Do not look down upon our fall; For you never really know WHO truly Sits within these walls. Richard Palestine, TX |
Out of the Soul Imagine being an anthroposophist And going --- Through a murder trial. So surreal. Something from twenty years ago. The Soviet Union still existed then. So long ago. Yet it happened. Something happened. Something --- Psychopathic Something you did. You wish you could undo it. So wrong. You see it now, like the pain --- In everyone’s faces. So much pain. You wish you could fix it. The harm. Irreparable harm. You harmed them so badly. Everyone. And you think: My God, what have I done? You deserve to die. You want to live. Such a contrast, like the judge’s young voice Sentencing you to death --- Once again. Mark Livingston, TX |
Mighty Oak Sturdy and strong, Destined for heights, Alone or apart, Living by the light, Nurturing the land, With it’s every breath, Giving us shelter, Even in death, Too often we fail to see, The bravery of even a tree, So stop a second, Look and see, For just a moment, How we all should be. Terry Lewisburg, PA |