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.