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Prison Son Poems | Prison Poems About Son

These Prison Son poems are examples of Prison poems about Son. These are the best examples of Prison Son poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

The Craigslist Thrill Killers

Elytte and Miranda Barbour murdered a man just to get a thrill.
It is always very stupid and senseless when people kill.
They said they killed him because they wanted to kill someone together.
If you're wondering when they'll get out of prison, the answer is never.
They pled guilty to Second Degree Murder and other charges and got life.
Elytte will never be able to kill another person and neither will his wife.
When Troy LaFerrara answered the Barbours Craigslist ad, he didn't know he was in danger.
While in court, LaFerrara's loved ones were very furious and they expressed their anger.
The Barbours are only 22 and 19, they're young enough to be my kids.
If they were my children, I wouldn't forgive them for what they did.

(This is a true story about Elytte and Miranda Barbour who murdered Troy LaFerrara.)


Details | I do not know? | |

His Song and Mine

Sympathy

BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;   
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,   
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,   
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;   
For he must fly back to his perch and cling   
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars   
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,   
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!


Why Do I Write?

You ask me why I sing?
You ask me why I write?
You ask me why I bleed?
What choice have I besides?

I long to fly, to run away
To some safe haven just to play
To see the light of blessed day
And give my longing heart full sway

I want to grasp the star and moon
And live my life; t'will end too soon
And kiss the clouds up in the sky
But here am I, what choice have I?

Why do I sing?
Why do I cry?
Why write of pain
No lullaby?
What choice have I?

I want with zeal to be adored
And I want Fame there at my door
I want IT ALL and so much more
Tell me, is anything for sure?

Why so I beat my wing?
I was born to soar…

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Narrative | |

Molly

I took a rich man’s wallet
So that we would not starve
I’m sure the lord has forgiven me
But the judge he surely did not.
He spared me from the gallows
But sent me across the sea
Away from family and friends
And away from you sweet Molly
I could see you standing on the dock in the rain
As the ship lurched out in the mist
And I wondered sweet Molly would I ever again
Hear your laughter or feel your sweet kiss.
Well terrible fortune befell us
On that awful disease ridden ship
And brutes were the crew and the guards
Who beat us with fists and with whip.
And the wind howled and the seas rose
And many were washed overboard
And illness, storms and starvation
Were sent upon us by the lord
And gradually everyone perished
But somehow I seemed to survive
Until somehow I made it to Botany Bay
The only soul left alive.
I joined a prison gang Molly
And hard to work we went
They gave me a chisel and barrow 
And told me to go and carve steps
From a mountain made out of rock
On a path that led to nowhere.
No food or drink did they give us
I feel that they wished we would die
Well their wish came true sweet Molly 
As the men started dropping like flies.
The sun burned my face and my arms
As I hammered away at the stone
And when the rains finally came
They soaked us through to our bones
Then a flash flood swept the others away
And left me there all on my own.
Well my life was hard to be sure 
But again I seemed to survive
And I finally made it back to the camp
The only soul left alive.
They all were surprised to see me 
They clapped my back and shook my hand 
They said we must throw a party
For the luckiest man in the land
Well a grand party it was
Under a night of starry skies
The officers all were so drunk
That they started dropping like flies
And in the morning the soldiers found me grinning
Twenty dead officers, two blood stained knives.
Holy Christ said the men as they clapped me in irons
He’s the only soul left alive!
So now I finally face the gallows Molly
And there are no more lies left for me
What I couldn’t eat of the men on the ship
I threw the remains to the sea
What I couldn’t eat of the men on the mountain
I buried among the trees
The drunken officers deserved all they got
So Molly my conscience is clear.
My only regret dear Molly
The only thing that causes me pain
Is knowing that I shall never
See your sweet face again.


Details | Light Poetry | |

That One Chance

                                                       That One Chance
                                          
                                             If I had that one chance I would,
                                             Eliminate that reality that hate could,
                                             Destory the purpose of loves will,
                                             For hate is a reality that loves to kill.

                                             Having this one chance I would  know,
                                             That my life has that chance to show 
                                             No other purpose is their from hate,
                                             Because hate is not my only fate.

                                             If I had that one chance to love,
                                             I woulld humble its desire thereof,
                                             For I know that its desire is from,
                                             The essence of a true reality to come.

                                             So if one fines that one chance,
                                             To adore its love snd take a stance..


Details | Alliteration | |

Hybrid Eyes

unknown five fingers flipping lives
power based dynamic undermines the dramatic
twist the totalitarian love like lashed fragments
bastard basilisk coiled coolly over calming masks

The hybrid eyes close on hatred
Unveil the universal welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting a party
Happy's perfect when expecting a life

Hate the child
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it love

ensure enraptured trust and warming embrace
unannounced resurgence of relief and trust
tame the tether and tighten the ropes
warning clouds wane and the day shines

The hybrid eyes close on lust
Unveil the welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting norms
Happy's perfect when expecting trust

Show it love
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it child
Hate the love
Hate the show
Love the show
Show the child
Hate it
Love it
Show it
Child


Details | I do not know? | |

One More Day

Tap. Tap. Tap.
Shoes. Clicking against the tiles.

Cling. Cling. Cling.
Keys. Jingling against each other. 

Clink. Clink. Clink.
Cuffs. Clanking against the bars. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.
Water. Smacking against the floor.

Whack. Whack. Whack.
A whip. Lashing against my skin.

One more day to go. 



Just wrote this out in a couple of minutes with my mind on the topic word of "prison". Enjoy!


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

The Camarilla

The Camarilla  *part 1

She forgets every meaning of untroubled silence and fantasy
Joyful and full of spirit, indulgent ways to live a life in existence
Her unity, filled with haven never again the craven
Allowing to never again be discredited, nor run from her responsibilities
Walking in a bust that rejected hopeful-less feelings
The love, joy healed every carefree solitary need
Soft reactions, with a gift that holds inner peace
A joy of the stop, universal, opening the silence

Her enemy now wears the white wolf coat~ 
With no interest of ongoing thoughts, ending these uncomfortable ways
Engraved words removed, releasing pristine motions that swim in mystery
Gazing at the world with one complete look, of everything
Regretting old thoughts of waste
Losing and forgetting every notion that now can be dealt and felt'  
Rising to the ability of her sexuality, that rises above and below all levels
Now she whispers, words that untwist her fate, with great debate
Destroying and diverting demonic demons dat are dreaming

A sin to go on when one ignores the light
A lovely look against every break was all it took
Intervening every change that took place
She is and always will be saved,
Enjoying all the pleasure and painless desires for compassion  
Eliminating every form of inner prison, turning it into medicated freedom
Dedicating every matter behind,
Oh! How to spread that life's a dream one should be shared

Sane like the flowers that grow throughout the year
Finally, finding the perfect ruler of peaceful grace
Calmly giving life and advice, praying, praising, and preparing
Forgetting her NEFARIOUS, purpose!

Dedicate~ to: The MALKAVIAN- Part 1* Poem written by; Nate D.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Can of Peaches

She was a kleptomaniac,
His wife of thirty years.
The risks she took for stuff of little value
Had all but driven him to tears.

She had such low regard for the risk;
Always said, “If I’m caught, I’ll pay.”
“But what if they’re not satisfied?” he’d ask.
She just smiled and said, “That’ll be the day.”

When first they met, he thought her just young and wild;
And, after all, it really did no one any harm.
It was fun to watch her be so sneaky,
Kind of a sexy part of her appealing charm.

The stuff she stole was so petty,
But she seemed to have such fun.
After all, it wasn’t for the stuff she stole,
But for the thrill of what she’d done.

As time had passed, he had finally realized
It was a sickness, not just a game to play.
She’d steal something almost everywhere she went,
And she went somewhere almost every day.

So, it had gotten old and tiresome, completely out of hand.
His pleas of “Get some help.” she would ignore;
Tho’ she might have thought better of it
If she had known what was in store.

While grocery shopping, she tried to steal a can of peaches.
They caught her, called the cops, sent her off to jail.
She called her embarrassed and disgusted husband, 
Who resentfully made arrangements for her bail.

When her court date came, he went along;
And when her case came up, he was by her side.
As the judge reviewed her charges, it seemed to him
That the judge’s patience was being sorely tried.

“Madam" the judge said angrily, "…a single can of peaches?
It’s obvious you have no desperate financial need.
You are wasting my court’s time with such farce.
So, Madam...how do you plead?"

She feigned regret. She bowed her head.
Surely such a ploy might change his attitude.
“Guilty, your Honor.  I am so sorry.”
He growled, “Save your platitudes.”

Then he asked, “How many peaches were in the can?”
“Your Honor, I believe that there were ten."
“Madam, I intend to teach you a lesson this day.
You’ll think twice before you steal again.

You’ll serve three days in county jail for each peach in that can.”
Her husband saw his chance.  He said, “Your Honor, if you please,
Before you pass her final sentence, you should know….
She also stole a can of peas!"


Details | Haiku | |

Butterfly In A Bottle

Slowly opens the eyes
Amazed, flutters to the skies
Contained. Settles and sighs.


Details | Rhyme | |

SOLITUDE OF A TORMENTED SOUL

Here I sit alone; confined to my prison cell
Locked away from the world it is a living hell
I know I should be punished for taking someone's life
I should have forgiven the man who stole my wife

Now I have time to sit and ponder my crime
Total isolation, my life devoid of sunshine
Wish I could turn the clock back to that fateful day
The events of that night are on constant action replay

Now I’m just a pathetic soul
Life is on hold I am no longer whole
Devoid of human contact, only the prison warder
Not allowed visitors even my beloved daughter

No one is here to see the silent tears I cry
Day after day confined, my life is slipping by
Tormented by realisation of my wasted life
Oh to turn the clock back and forgive my cheating wife

08~07~14 

Written for Solitude Contest Sponsored By Scott Thirtyseven
~Awarded 15th place~


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Victory Lap

Dusk lingers over the broken hill
Night creeps slowly beneath gloomy skies
Tired souls scramble to their weary beds
While I kneel down on the old dusty carpet and pray.
My spirit groans but I could not utter a single word 
Overshadowed by an unusual burden
I forced out a few words and hum a spiritual tune.
The night spread quickly over my bed
And I drifted in a deep slumber instead.
I found myself waiting in a room,
I was waiting for someone but I didn’t know who
A bare shelf attached to a plain wall
With a phone box sitting on top caught my attention.
Someone suddenly came out of nowhere into the unlit room
With a delegation and greeted me heartily.
He shook my hand and gave me the box.
We sat around a table positioned in the center of the room
His chair powerfully arranged to right side 
He sat close to the door and I sat next to him 
enchanted by his charismatic power 
I waited for that ecstatic hour. 
His delegation sat around the table at
the darker end of the room clapping 
and cheering as he started to speak.
With a big grin and a wide smile
He spoke with confidence, boldness and authority
Suddenly the door cracked opened and a radiant glow of light 
straight from the sky radiates upon him 
The beaming light rest upon him and covers him as he spoke.
God bless the President 
These words  woke me up 
in the wee hours of the morning.








Details | Rhyme | |

I Just Got Out Of The COUNTY JAIL

After a wonderful late afternoon walk in the park, 
my wife and I moseyed over to the Japanese Hibachi Grille for some dinner. 
What we got into was some good old fashioned drama down at BeniHana...

You see, I got me a fetish for shiny cookware, 
so as the patrons' eyes honed in on the iron chef 
dicing up onions, shrimp, and chicken...
mine were busy fantasizing about concealing Ginsu knives
clankin' in the kitchen. 
"Brew Silly began his routine with the hot fire volcano bit
atop the flat grille.
In the distraction, my sticky fingers began reactin',
 slippin' utensils inside my zipper, for a thrill. 
Things started heatin' up as folks were eating up;
Spatulas started flyin'! 
Mushrooms were a fryin', 
My conscience stopped trying... 
tired of getting beaten up!

Now, if I told you I was lookin' at what was cookin'...
I'd be a lyin'. 
I mean, I was really tryin',
but the devil had me by the klepto-hands...guiding me.
Riling me up.
 
He said, "Go for one of them Wok's! Do it now Big Dog! 
Get yir rocks off! Knock yir socks off! 
Quick man...sly like a fox, Hoss!"

My heart said, "No", but my head said, "OH HELL YES!"
Sadly, I was in cahoots with the devil, 
bass mixed with treble, 
trouble poundin' in my chest! 
So guess what came next?-

I grabbed one of them big brass bitches, 
signaled Jessie's ass with a quickness, 
and started gunnin for the door!
Of course, my good hearted wife started whinin', 
"Honey, I wasn't done, now what are we leavin' for?"

"Listen baby, I'll explain later.
Right now it's time to go!"

As we passed the pretty little hostess,
she banged the gong and said real fast, 

"AHH, Tank-You Berry Much F'wor Cummean Fwolks!"

We jetted towards the park, but it was getting dark.
My legs began to fail. The cops were on our tail.
We tried to walk and play it off, but it was no use.
We should have stayed and ate our food, 
and drank our brews with "BREWS!"

The pigs threw me to the ground, 
then began to squeal and bark.
They tossed us in the County Jail, 
twenty thousand bail...
 ____________FOR TAKIN' A WOK TO THE PARK!!!


~"True story ={WinK+Wink}



Details | Elegy | |

MONOLITH

monolith wrapped
with blackish aura
now old lion has
lost it's strength 
wiggles under the
iron gossamer
sometimes yelps
yawns and sighs 
waiting in labyrinth
for macabre end




For P.D'S contest


Details | Rhyme | |

Every Dog Starts As A Surly Cur

Every Dog Starts As A Surly Cur


Earth seeds its own laments
worn shepherds in torn tents
Sheep living in deep sleep
a tramp never earns his keep

Lone tree shades bare ground
hare rests but not the hound
Path sets so many hideous traps
children need more long naps

Adults seek much more pleasure
ignoring love's greatest treasure
Always more power grows deeper mad
selfish desires fertilize the bad

Earth bears its bitter fruit
dog puppies, so soft and cute
Man races he knows not where
every dog starts as a surly cur

Robert J. Lindley... 2014



Details | Free verse | |

NOEXCUSE

NO EXCUSE


What is logical, in this world of chaos, violence 
Nonsense. Nothing seems to clean this dirt 
Stains I cannot rinse. 
Social wounds take their toll 
Attacking every angle, there is no dependable defense. 
Only duck and dodge, never stand still. 
With media, the law, and terrorist threats 

Stayin' alive is pretty intense. 

And keeping open eyes, when constant 
brainwashing attempts until convinced 
We need to realize,
 these lies they sell make no sense. 
Then we may try to live free then die, without their interference.


Details | I do not know? | |

Wasted Tears

Tears- never knew a home
So accommodating, like
Diamonds- cut with blood 
So devastating the
Weakness- the marker of a soul 
So Broken, by
Shame-in a mirage of a life
So Hopeless because of the
Meaninglessness-I carry with me 
So futile these
Wasted-tears


Details | Free verse | |

Heroin

I am 18 years old
I just found out that I spend most of my time sleeping, 
I am obsessed with it. 
I have lived for 9,460,800 minutes
Most of which I waste on sleep
Sleeping is my personal heroin,
It lets my arms as a pair of wings  to fly me  to paradise.
When I want to escape from reality,    
I shoot it up my veins.

One day, my mom was chatting with her friends, 
When they discussed my studies, 
I looked down at my shoes while their children smiled smugly.
Their smiles struck my wings like lighting
The path to my paradise began to disappear 
I thought I could use my broken wings to open their eyes 
so that they would see my true face
But this was just my imagination
I needed a hit so bad that I slept for 3 days
Feeling likes a puppet, no pain as my strings are pulled
My dream leads me into that sense again,
I looked at their lips and heard their words, proudly I say to her friends, “I am better than your child.”
When I awake, I feel my emotions flood back to me stronger than before

When I was in high school,
I worked so hard but I still couldn’t achieve a score to be proud of
When I see my father’s rough hands, I am shamed by my B Grade Paper.
Then I begin to think what I can do for him, 
I ask: “DAD! Can I go to get a part-time job?

“No, getting back to your studies!”

I prepared to take another shot of heroin
To help me pretend as if nothing happened
I used to think that sleeping would solve my ailments
    But I realized 
I realized that I am escaping
   Like boxers hide behind their gloves 
Like timid warriors escape from the battlefields

These years, I am search in for peace
But opiate feeling blinds my eyes 


Details | Free verse | |

Paris my prison

another world for me
a soul that I be
a freedom for life
free by love for liberty
for living — Paris my reason
Paris my unfulfilled desire
Paris my prison


Details | Terza Rima | |

What May Come

Not everything is as it seems. 
And no one is ever truly happy here, 
Mostly because we're told to dump our dreams. 

But no one ever addresses our needy fears. 
Somehow, we've been handed the end of the rope; 
Left alone to make the muddied waters crystal clear. 

In the midst of all the chaos we cope, 
By seeking out the comfort amidst the pain 
Looking into the things that should instill hope. 

What is hope, and the reality that it stains - 
For anyone can see that it exists not. 
Shed a tear as you watch goodness wane. 

Instead, it is gratification sought 
Within a world that can't make up its mind. 
Instant, fleeting, with it, lost souls are bought. 

Where is the path? Through what does it wind? 
Curving here, breaking past the man-made walls, 
Descending until the broken spirit is all one finds. 

From all directions the way wards path seems to call 
Not caring who the confusion leads astray 
And then stepping back so as not to take the fall. 

Yet the path carries on, blindly leading the foray 
And everyone allows it one more fleeting move. 
Blindly groping for the invisible handhold that's taken away. 

When will the awakening arrive, making us prove 
That we are more than simple mindless machines 
Trying desperately to avoid the looks that disapprove. 

Why must we carry on, strapped to a ride that careens, 
Tossing us, throwing us like some rag doll in a child’s hand? 
Shouldn’t there be more to this macabre scene? 

Eyes open, I see all of this. Eyes closed I weep and demand - 
Is this the way we had our world originally planned?


Details | Prose | |

The Color of My Skin

                                                The Color of My Skin

                                     Why do you hate the color of my skin.
                                     Is it that you think I'm inferior from within;
                                     Or can you see that natural man in me,
                                     If so its because my soul is of reality.

                                     Why do you hate the intelect of my mind,
                                     Or can you say it possesses more then time;
                                     If so, why do you treat me so unkind.

                                     Why do you hate the pattern of my speech,
                                     Is it morally sound for you to teach;
                                     Mend your way of life or I'll be,
                                     Locked in this cage from reality....


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

I Got Next

I came from projection I came from hood
The difference being in hood ten year ago and now
Kids and women used to matter, knowing the struggle
I Got Next
This may not matter to you but when you witness children left outside
With nothing to eat with a ball next to a bench
You tell me what is cold and man I thought my mom was cold?
I Got Next
Were talking about role models for this generation 
Time after time I tell people I’m not the guy
But growing up I could not tell you how a role model was supposed to interact 
I Got Next
In till the state gave me a One on One and 
She looked at me and told me you are going be a bachelor one day
Yeah, whatever but oh my god she was so beautiful with a college degree!!!
I Got Next
Don’t get it wrong I was not a bad kid put the environment and 
Crime was terrible and key word was an index of “8” “The City That I'm From” But
We strive for perfection and my name is not even important but these kids’ are
I Got Next
The scares of my chest from arm to arm you would think it was tattoos,
So I been told!!!
Tiger stripes is what they call them and I’m not a people person But 
I Got Next
If my story could help someone else story fine 
But I’m not the guy or even trying to be anyone role model
Just some time in this community its push on me to be the guy I was put 
In newspaper at three and half for preschool when it first open no pressure though!!!
I just had goals dreams and aspiration is that so wrong for a child!!!!
I Got Next
I know people that goes to prison and think that is where they should be?
But I’m going to mention for the incarnation things have chance drastically
And some kids don’t respect anything but who is to blame?
But starting today I take the blame!!!
I Got Next
And the phone never stops ringing!!!
I Got Next 
Went and check the mail today got another credit card offer as usually 
But this time It was” THE” Black Card Visa 
Thinking to myself I’m never going have no money to join why offer?
But I do have great credit if I may add!!!
I’m going keep this Brochure or as I call it Bro Sure and 
I’m Sure one day what some us did for our community they will say
I Got Next!!!!
11-28-14


Details | Rhyme | |

I Killed A Gangster

Until 1934 I was a barber, that used to be my profession.
Many people are suffering because of this Great Depression.
A Gangster walked into my shop but when he left, he had to be carried.
He was responsible for many deaths and I made sure that he was buried.
I usually don't brag but this time I love to gloat.
That punk asked for a shave and I slit his throat.
He dealt in Prostitution, Gambling, Booze and Heroin.
I made sure that he couldn't do anything illegal again.
I'm not ashamed of myself even though I lost my freedom and my wife.
I saved people from that animal and a judge sentenced me to life.
I'll be locked up for the remainder of my years.
I don't regret what I did, my conscience is clear.

(This fictional poem takes place in the 1930s.)


Details | Lyric | |

PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMNT

BY STREET CRIES

MY PEN SPEAKS POETRY WITH A PASSION 
RELEASING MENTAL PRISONS POSING AS PROBLEMS 
PEOPLE POINTING FINGERS IGNORING PARAGRAPHS OF LIFE SCRIPTURES 

PROMOTING THE PENALTY OF MINDLESS POTENTIAL
IN A PARADOX PASSING BY PEDESTRIANS
PLEASING PARASITES PUMPING POISON IN THE POPULATION 
 
PROPAGANDA FOLLOWING PROTOCOL

POLITICS PLAYING GODS POSITION
POSSIBLY PROVOKING PESTILENCE AS A PRESENT 
BECAUSE OF OUR PAST TENSE

PROVIDING A PATH PRACTICING PAGANISM AS PARADISE 
PERPENDICULAR TO NO LIFE

PERSUADING PARTICIPATION IN THE FORM OF PROFITS
PURCHASING A GENERATION POLLUTED WITH IGNORANCE
PURPOSELY POSITIONING PUPPETS AS PRESIDENT

PROBING PODS PENETRATE THE SKY LOOKING FOR PLANETS 
PROVING POINTS THROUGH PROPHETIC PROPHECY
PROJECTING PAINFUL PREMONITIONS

PARANOID PERKIEST PILL POPPERS PARADE IN PUBLIC
WHILE POLICE PUSH PASS PERIMETERS OF PEACE
CAUSING PICKET SIGNS OF PROTEST

FOOD FED TO THE POOR PROCESSED WITH PESTICIDES 
PROTECT WALL STREET POCKETING PAYCHECKS FORM POVERTY

THAT'S WAY I POST POEMS WITH POWERFUL POTENCY
REPRESENTING THE UNHEARD CRIES IN THE STREETS









Details | I do not know? | |

TRAPPED

I’ve been caged for too long
Trapped and ensnared for so long
Kept in a place I don’t belong
But I tried to stay strong
Did everything I was told to
Got the education I was supposed to
I was promised I would go places
But life has changed faces
I was told I was free, free as a bird
Why does freedom hurt so much?
Freedom aint never been this poor
Freedom aint never been this sorry
Freedom aint never been so hopeless
How can the system be so imperfect?
My ancestors begged from your ancestors
My parents begged from your parents
The system says I should beg from you
But I refuse to stretch out my hand to beg
I refuse to sing the song of a loser
I refuse to live like a beggar
The system won’t work because you don’t let it
The system stinks but you don’t see it
Free my mind, free my body, free my spirit
Away with the system, away with oppression
My solutions come from within me


Details | I do not know? | |

Blinded by black

Could you be surrounded by a million faces,
Yet see nothing, just masses and beams?
Watch them laugh, smile and be, from the shadows.
While you cringe with envy.

Tracing their every move.
The curve of their lips in glee.
The shadows cast in the depths of amber,black,brown,grey and green.
Such reckless emotion, so easily revealed.

It calls to you, mockingly.
Unaffected, not tempted, you walk away.
The warmth of words and hearty gleams
Could call for an eternity but it wouldn't mean a thing, not to you.
Not to a heart made of steel.

As the seasons pass,
The White, orange and yellow scream
That hardly ever matters to someone who can see only black.
Living the monochrome dream. 

Should you walk a path, as a lonely being.
A lovely flower laced road
With rose beds and lily baths, splashes of colour and purity.
All crumbling as you breathe.

For nothing remains in the beauty of a flower once it rots, dies and no longer breathes.
Like a body stripped of it's soul
Wandering, with no purpose
Forever, only watching, never to touch or to feel.

I once was full of colour
Full of life, colour and free
But my mind stole that away
And left me to watch it float by like a dream.

Finally dying, finally free.
As a parting gift would you give me what I need?
Would you trade places with me?
So finally, I could feel.

Amanda Miller


Details | Narrative | |

Prisoner

I eat and sit
Stretch and Sleep and
Dance with time.
I've found mundane
       In raw mounds in my palms
- and swayed in its drunkenness.

Time, she's tried to touch me
      - tries - 
But, floating, I hold no weight,
Amorphous, we drift about,
She and I, never touching,
She and I, never existing;

Meaningless and comforting.


Details | ABC | |

Missing You

Let me tell you about a game i play
Where i close my eye's and fade away

I float away to a special place 
Beyond the star's and moon and space

In this special place you see
There are only two people,Just you and me

In this place,All is right
Nothing but love,And we never fight

In this place,There is no sadness
No cell's,No court's,None of that madness

No bar's to hold us or separate
No one to tell us we can't kiss or touch

I don't just tell you I love you,I show you 
how much

But eventually the game must end
My eye's must open,And reality set's in

But someday soon,I'm not sure when
I will close my eye's and play my game again


Details | Rhyme | |

The Shout


They stood there like ghosts
these apparitions.

 Survival was attrition-
 Eyes, like big black holes.

Slowly ,barefoot , moved 
these emaciated Poles.

The one in front ,raised his hand
and pointed to that heap of sand.

Skin hung on his frame;
who was to carry this evil shame?

He let out a guttural shriek! 
This shrouded and tormented freak.

Had bid farewell to his next of kin-
through the stacks this dreadful sin.

With feeble walk he made the gate;
aware that  they had not sealed his fate.


Details | Verse | |

The Prisoner

I live within a small dark space
You hardly ever see my face
Beneath me there are things that turn
What they are I hope to learn

I've been a prisoner all my life
I've not had children or a wife
I cannot even move around
'coz I am most securely bound

Once in a while I get to see
out of this prison that holds me
I feel it starting, must prepare
for my next view of what's out there

My little prison starts to vibrate
No longer will I have to wait
Now the closed doors open wide
At last, another look outside

I'll call for help in that strange land
and perhaps someone will understand
It is the one thing I can do
The time has come, I yell ... "Cuckoo"


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Good From Bad

Eighth of November,
nineteen years before 
the start of the 21st century
Suffolk County Georgia State Penitentiary
He slowly walks down the cold and barren hallway
The Preacher right beside asking the Lord's forgiveness
Entering the chamber where one lone chair sits
He has come to grips with his mortality
Eyes only gazing at the worn oak floor
He is seated and strapped with ice cold steel
The Warden asks for any last words
"May the Lord look after my unborn baby girl"
Eight Thirty Eight  the lights flicker 
The mouths of the onlookers drop
He no longer can be a burden to society!!

Eight of November
nineteen years before
the start of the 21st century
Clare County Michigan State Hospital
Down at the end of the pure white hallway
A young mother to be
Nurse right beside praying to the Lord new life be born
She has come to grips with Motherhood
Laying up high on the table
Strapped in to the stirrups of warmth
Her words could be heard
"May the Lord bring me this baby girl"
Eight Thirty Eight you hear the cries
The mouths of the onlookers all grin
For one mans sin has turned into life again