Unshackle My Verse:
When Rhyme was a crime:
I send all my kites in metaphorical rhyme,
So the screws can't decipher them in time.
I hang low compared to all the other inmates,
Passing my time until I walk through the gates.
Guilty as charged for being a lowly old poet,
Serving five to eight years, wouldn't you know it.
While I spend my time etching on the wall,
The hours pass slowly waiting for my muse to call.
I received a kite from the cell next door,
It said, "keep your head low there'll be a gang war."
This prison full of poets from all walks of life,
For the pen is mightier than the deadliest knife.
We only get released for one hour a day,
Talking in the yard in our own poetic way.
But don't let the screws catch you speaking in verse,
Or else you're likely to leave in a long black hearse.
(The letters prisoners send each other are called kites)
(And screws are guards)
April~13~2017
For Unshackle my verse contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues.
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