Janine's Articles From the Soul From the Outside Poetry Corner Prisoner Letters

Prison Trip


When first I found myself in dire straits

I wondered how what I had learned

would help re-write my tired fate

As I knew now by time I’d been burned

There was no “other” upon whom I could lean,

My crime had made of me a leprous cur;

Being un-schooled as to how to pass as mean

I faced a rude awakening, to be sur.

Those first nights when sleep did me escape,

My mid racing, fearing for the worst;

The drama in my head recalling the brutal rape;

So I laid there, knowing well my future was cursed.
The, thankfully I learned of sleeping aids,

I could get to be seen none too soon;

That first medicated night as the lights and noise did face

I reveled in my luck at gaining such a boon.

Now that I’d found sleep I set my mind on other things,

Such as how I was to carry myself in prison;

For those whose named crime carried such a sting,

Further fears had i my mind arisen.

How does one carry such weight of crimes horrific

In nature, and yet live inside his tainted skin?

Being faced with relaying such mean specifics

‘Tis best to have a friend “thru thick and thin.”

For, one wrong step, or casual slip of tongue

Could mean one’s undoing, neat and quick,

And why should one meet his fate so young,

The numbers of death’s amy are surely thick.

Hence, with time’s passage I learned to play the game,

To keep my footing, to always watch my back.

Someone told me of one who helped the lame,

But I knew better, and ran with the cruising pack.

i made it thru my first bid clan, unscathed,

And thought I could make it on the outs;

But I was set up, and as I raged and raved

I came slinking back, with nary a cry or shout.

This time my bid was tentative at the very best,

I could wind up locked in there forever.

Once again I played things close to the vest

Never saw it coming, knocked me over with a feather

Got caught up in old behaviours unaware,

Thought I was above the rest, for sure.

Continued to think I could get past any dare,

The rest was a real nightmare--a total blur.

As I awaited the sentence-again- to hear my fate

I took comfort in my old lothario ways.

It couldn’t have turned out worse-once again, burned,

Spent some 400 nights and scorching hot days

In a Teas joint, do you think I had learned?

Now I make my bed in a place in Illinois,

400 more days and nights till I get back home,

Kickin’ it here with a better crowd, some Christian boys,

Workin’ out my salvation on a wing and a poem.

I yet have many miles to travel, only now

The Lord is my Shepherd, So I have far less fear;

Had I only gotten “here” sooner, took a faith-filled bow,

I might have met my son before he had time to disappear;

But if I stay true and do what I believe is right

I’ll see all those I’ve loved in life once I say my last good-night

Poetry Corner

Latest Issue: 92