Prisoner Poems - Poems about Prisoner

Prisoner

Don’t think too hard.
They sting behind your eyes.
Sharp swells
from the recessing snake pit.

Faces warp, wrap, and real.
Knotted limbs 
of trying tapestry.
The marriage of scale and skin.

Remember to forget.
My soul was not to keep.
A window woe.
Through eyes not mine, I see.

Take from me
what was yours already.

Prisoner.

Prisoner of the mind

In shadows deep where chaos grips my heart,  A whispered cry is heard from the darkened cells

A child once laughing beneath a sunlit sky,  Now lost in the darkness of despair. 
Fear crawls like a serpent in the night, its scales revealing the demons I bear

I drown in thoughts that bind me to

When silence envelops me, I become a prisoner of such deep calm

When silence envelops me, I become a prisoner of such deep calm,
That I hate the quiet that strips me bare, yet love it all the same.
It strips everything of meaning, people, voices, even myself,
And I begin to see the world through lifeless eyes, as if nothing matters,
As if everything passes in a cycle of which

POLITICAL PRISONER

BEING A POLITICAL PRISONER HAS IT'S DRAWBACKS I GUESS WHILE RECIEVING TERRORIST THREATS TRYING TO JUST MAINTAIN A DAILY REGIMENE RATHER ITS PICKING OF MEDICATIONS FROM THE PHARMACY A SENSE OF DREAD ARISES CAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOUR CAR WILL BE BLOWN UP BY A PIPE BOMB SUBTLE THREATS ON RECIEPTS LIKE GAS RECICEIPTS

Prisoner of Poetry

I am a purple prisoner of poetry
For when I can’t write woe is me

Darkens my sky the flowetry
Enriches my life the soul of me

Some do drugs roll with me
I just do hugs go with me

Grasping the love of a sheet
Of paper, pen and ink is peace

Muse is a turquoise tool guides me
Ideas are precious jewels

Prisoner of Poetry

Captive of spells by all rhymes and verses
Seized in tangs of thoughts and emotions
I gain joy, love, comfort, strength and wellness 
They rob my stress and tensions.

As ink spills down from my deepest blood streams
I release my imagination with thrill
All my hopes, wishes, aspirations and dreams
all freed by the tough handcuffs of my quill.

Poem is

Prisoner of Poetry

Metaphors and similes flow freely from my pen 
when I am scripting and scribing in poetic verse.
Across the width of pale parchment pages 
the nib of my feathered pen continues to traverse.
Ink courses fathoms deep within me like life blood, 
rushing through the eddied channels of my veins.
I struggle to ignore the cramping in my

Prisoner of Poetry

Bound by the chains of poetry, that’s me
Words swirl in my mind continuously
However hard I try to flee from this cell
The prison of poetry won’t bid farewell.

I write of nature’s infinite splendour 
The more I see, the more I’m in awe
Wonder of the sky, sunrise or sunset
Trees and flowers with magnificent effect.

I tell of birds

Prisoner Of Poetry

Alphabets gather as words unravel
the passing and returning of moans;
lines of phrases inflame the arteries 
of beauty, angst, love interwoven 
by imagination's pining.
Tingle of words… fragrance of vowels… 
caress of verses enter the soul, as if to dive
into the very basin of layered expressions.
On a fresh scroll baring my bones
and rawest of mood,
I enter a

Prisoner of Poetry - Mar 22

My bars the words, the prison guard my verse,
Rattling the staves of this poetic cell,
I struggle vainly, locked up in this jail. 
Yea, thus is my predicament, my curse.

Oh, how jealously, you smirking blank verse,
I look upon what freedom guides your quill;
For formal phrasing does of me compel
Stubborn structures—the styles which I rehearse. 

But, boldy

Prisoner of Poetry

"Some words show up fast, some want to sit and play with us. What can a writer do???" By Poet

I like to write so my words in poetry can live,
letting my imagination come to life with jive.
My ink will not be bound but alive,
for my ink not my blood must write to survive.
Watch out for

PRISONER OF POETRY

PRISONER OF POETRY

Is it me in this verse, a strange insight for sure
As it is someone who I don’t really recognise
Am I writing these words, or someone inside
If so, who might be playing the role of a guide
And don’t be too hasty in saying that it’s wise
As if it is encouraged, it will create even

Prisoner of Poetry

When my muse ruled 
my conscience's compass,
waterfalls of rhyming rivers
revealed unspoken secrets -
long forgotten in my heart.
Exposing vulnerable verses
from vaults where vines
had wrapped my tongue
into subdued silence.

In the Injustices of 
judicial juxtaposition,
speech spoke in a 
paradoxical oxymoron -
'deafening silence'

Pouring in drops of crimson,
I became a convicted cliché,
taken hostage in a
Machiavellian marketplace,
where I felt illiterate -

Prisoner of Poetry

I'm a prisoner of poetry
Chained to the curse of the verse
Locked in the labyrinth of lyrics
For my better or for worse

I'm a prisoner of poetry
Captive to words and notions
Jailed by the jubilee of jingles
Confined by my emotions

I'm a prisoner of poetry
Restrained by the rhythm of rhymes
Immured by the mad myths of metres
Thoughts tied to my

Prisoner of Poetry

I am a prisoner of poetry,
counting syllables as I rhyme,
Hoping ink will give me wings,
as I pour silent screams 
through sleepless nights.
I call my muse to awaken my senses,
To write one last sonnet,
incensed with roses and longing…

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