The shackles that hold me
Visible to my eye alone.
The collar around my neck
Only cause I allow it.
The chains around my feet
Have bound me to this prison,
A prison I call home
But feels a dungeon.
The boulder on my chest
Shouldn't keep me so stunted,
But what a great locksmith
I've turned out to be
An oppressor I have made me
To hold myself in place
And even when I try to
I cannot let me go.
A slave I have turned me
To serve until I'm dead.
But maybe someday
Unshackled I'll become.
Unshackle your psyche
break the chains of fear
explore the cosmos
dare to appear
GREEDY for adventure
LUSTY for love
ALIVE to passions
long buried here
Unshackle My Verse
When red-dust turns into solid hard stone
my words and I shall be content alone.
Grieve thee not for my long sad solitude
once I danced with happy multitude.
Then my muse embraced me with dear sweet love
now I want touch of her velvet glove.
Now I find darkness, her in binding chains
drought consumes me, decades no needed rains.
When darkness came, we ignored its powers
now dying of thirst we pray for showers.
Alas! No longer does my dear muse cry
at the black and O' so foreboding sky.
Will my poetic words dare stand alone?
When this mortal flesh is long dead and gone?
April 15th, 2017
Written for Kim Rodrigues' -- "Unshackle My Verse" Poetry Contest
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.
Dear Poets: A Sonnet Call to Arms
The law we fought so hard against has passed.
They say our poems we cannot write again.
We must rebel. Absurdity can’t last!
How dare they rob us of the right to pen
those thoughts and feelings we’re compelled to write.
We’ll meet in secret; there we shall devise
our plan to save what is our hearts’ delight,
for passion is the glue that unifies
us all! Our friends and neighbors we can sway
to join the fight, for without poetry
all freedom of expression goes away!
God gave us words to help make people see!
This law must change, and though the fight be long,
united, we are strong; we’ll right this wrong!
4/10/17 for Kim Rodrigues' Unshackle My Verse Poetry Contest
Who are you to put restrictions on me?
I will not let you control my muse
She may roam free as she pleases
Even if that means soaring to the moon
or swimming across the atlantic ocean
She will not be silenced or bound
Do what you must because there's no
shackle "strong" enough to bind her
My muse is very bold
My muse is a lioness
Her roar commands all to listen to her
And she will be heard because
She is Free
She is Free
Her remarkable spirit can not be tamed
4-5-17
Inspired by the unshackle my verse contest
unshackle the mind....
remove the rope that bonds
the true self from escaping
it's internal prison
unshackle the mind....
unlock the chains of
self-induced oppression
that has taken control
over the internal realm
unshackle the mind....
release the truth that
lies just beyond the surface
unshackle the mind....
Poetry widow.
I was looking around rummaging,
then I found some poison in a draw,
thought that could be damaging,
wonder what she'd want that for?
suddenly noticed something weird,
a rope with a noose, hanging from the ceiling,
I expect Just a joke,nothing to be feared,
except a book how to kill without feeling,
can't understand, knives Under the mattress,
don't know why she's upset and always cries,
she knows all about my literary mistress,
hope she's not planning my demise,
because with my other love I like to be solitary
having fun reading amazing poetry.
Just to let you know I've poisoned his tea,
Can't stand anymore of his rubbishy poetry,
so through his heart I stuck a knife,
Yes you guessed it, I'm his wife,
He is now hanging by a rope from the ceiling,
for him I have no more use lost all feeling,
now he can be on his own I am free,
no more being alone while he reads poetry.
I think I've done you all a favour in this deed,
you won't have any more of his rubbish to read,
now I'm off to prison a life in solitary,
Just because of that bloody poetry.
03/04/2017.
Unshackle my verse
The End Is Near
My existence is under absolute rule of a dictator regime,
I have grown up in the shadow of a tyrannical, overbearing man;
(and family)
he has built huge walls,
cutting us off from the world- no one leaves;
or ever enters.
He jailed all journalist, newscasters, and activists,
and ended newspapers;
all writing is illegal- the law is death if caught.
No books are allowed and all libraries have padlocks,
(and schools)
A black cloud hangs in the sky from coal burning;
nothing green exists, and
all is brown,
(nothing wild survives)
I live in the basement of my ruined home;
my activist parents have disappeared,
and I write poems.
I have to (I must) it is in my blood,
although the punishment great;
yesterday, I ran out of paper and I am writing on walls.
The end is near- and there is no future.
____________________
April 1, 2017
Verse/Unshackle My Verse
Copyright Protected, ID 889040
Unshackle My Verse
Kim Rodriques
Doing Time for the Rhyme
I sat upon a park bench
With a journal on my lap
Writing out a limerick
That I dreamed up in a nap
An officer came strolling by
He glanced down at my book
His hand moved to his holster
As in fear he clearly shook
Now stop right there
He boldly said eraser in his hand
Put down that pen and step away
He shouted in command
What unlawful words are these
He glared with bushy eyes
It's just a little limerick sir
I said in great surprise
You can't express yourself like that
This is a public park
You should not even do those things
When hiding in the dark
You cannot write out words like that
They're dangerous, words can kill
You must have a license
To possess that kind of skill
I do not have a license sir
To him I meekly said
I'm simply trying to work out
The thoughts within my head
You unrepentant criminal
I'll see that you do time
A thousand days in jail
And you'll give up this life of rhyme
March 29, 2017
I watched the CNN report
As the ruling came down from the court
I was shocked at what I saw
Poetry, was now against the law!
I joined other poets in the street
As protests marches we did incite
This terrible law we must defeat
We had to stand up for our "writes"
The protest marches took a turn for the worse
As we began to spill our ink
Upon the walls we wrote our verse
And ended up in the clink
After we got out of jail
We started planning our appeal
We were sure we'd prevail
Our will was clad in steel
Our appeal went to the highest court
And we awaited the ruling
Our case had the people's support
They knew we weren't fooling
I watched the CNN report
As the ruling came from the highest court
The original ruling they did reverse
They had unshackled the poetic verse!
..»..
Contest Name: Unshackle My Verse
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
3/26/17
Nothing is worse than badly rhyming verse
Or poems so obscure that no one can read
Sadly, after investigating some dreadful examples
Writing poetry is now banned - the police have decreed!
So writing poetry is now illegal
I’m bereft I’ll just sit down and cry
If I can’t dip my pen in the ink
I’ll simply fade away and die
I’ve decided to produce a ‘poetic licence’
Forbidden poets could then apply
The licence could only be used
On days of the week that end with a Y!
Poets found writing without a licence
Could be condemned to the dead poet’s society
Their illegal poems would be locked in a vault
And this would add to the poet’s notoriety
Of course I would have the final say
On poetry licences to be sent out
People caught plagerising would be banned
They won’t be accepted no matter how loudly they shout!
Contest Unshackle my Verse
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
03~25~17
Perhaps I’ll write some more
The judge he threw the book at me
for something I did write
I do not know what that could be,
I drank a bit last night
I know I had a pen in hand
and my heart she did break
He hollered, “Spit it out young man,
it’s too much time you take”
Some verses, yes I now recall
about the one I love
He said it was against the law,
that I was not above
“It states right here in black and white,
no stanzas that might rhyme”
He put the page within my sight,
it seems it is a crime
He slammed his gavel to the wood,
then shouted, “thirty days”
Said I should think about it good
and change my lawless ways
Oh yes your honor, that I’ll do,
I’ll walk a lawful track
My fingers that he couldn’t view,
were crossed behind my back
The judge he threw the book at me,
I’ve got it now for sure
I think the book was poetry,
perhaps I’ll write some more
3/24/17
Written for the UNSHACKLE MY VERSE poetry contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.