Iron Bars Of Mine
I stand behind these old iron bars,
To see the things, that I can see
I see a world that is changing everyday,
A world, that will not wait for me.
Behind these iron bars where I must lay,
Behind these bars where I must stay.
In this world where I am alone
Its a world that I helped build,
I make not the laws for how I live,
Time for me, she is held still.
As tomorrow is the same as it is today,
And today is the same, as yesterday.
Behind these bars, its where I am
It is the place where I sit and lie,
My destiny for me has already been chose,
For this is the place where I will die.
When the youth of mine turns into old,
When the dewdrops of dreams turn into snow.
The world that I made out of iron and stone
Where freedom and life is locked away
Where life is a waste, and living a haste,
It is where myself alone will forever stay.
Days and years for me, I have no care.
My only solitude, is sleep and prayer.
My day for me; she will someday come
When from my bars I am allowed to leave,
I will welcome that day with open arms and hope,
As those iron bars, will close behind me..
And for that day I will constantly pray,
As I leave those bars, for the bars of my a grave.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Related quotes
A World Cagged
our world is like a prison
but without iron bars
we are cagged in here
killing all the stars
no walls to obstruct our view
no concrete floors to walk on
no chains to hide you
only a box that cant be seen
we must live in this cage
till we die of old age
when we join the stars
and leave the world of bars
poem by Brandon Brooks
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A Fence
Now the stone house on the lake front is finished and the
workmen are beginning the fence.
The palings are made of iron bars with steel points that
can stab the life out of any man who falls on them.
As a fence, it is a masterpiece, and will shut off the rabble
and all vagabonds and hungry men and all wandering
children looking for a place to play.
Passing through the bars and over the steel points will go
nothing except Death and the Rain and To-morrow.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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People meet in bars after work all over the world and talk about the great problems of life and death and the world and politics and they don't take themselves seriously. They can do nothing else except chat about these things in bars after work.
quote by Whitfield Diffie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Panther
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Invisible Bars
It's not prison bars in front of my face
that take my freedom away.
It's people that want to control the world
that won't let my freedom stay.
It's not a cage that traps me inside
and won't allow me to fly.
It's the powerful ones that always hide
just waiting for me to die.
7 billion bodies now on this earth
and most of them aren't free.
It's a tragic play for most of us
that turned into a comedy.
But then the stage was always set
before we came to this place
to take my freedom away from me
with invisible bars before my face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Epilogue (Part Two)
picked up late summer,
convict pipe streets,
cuffed and stuffed,
tagged and thrown
into a cell of fourteen.
plaster walls,
cold iron bars,
playing poker for smokes.
drunks, thieves,
an axe murderer no one spoke.
and crazy old Walt,
spinning stories for all.
town barber, church deacon,
came home to find his wife
in bed with a friend.
had been drunk ever since,
more time in than out.
still said a prayer
when he thought that
no one could see.
watered down coffee,
grey food on metal plates.
sometimes a scuffle,
usually just words.
time passed in an opium dream.
looking through the bars,
out the lone window.
i watched the leaves turn,
then fall,
as the days grew shorter.
now those leaves have turned,
the same or different,
no matter.
and freedom seems as far,
behind the bars of my life!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Welcome To The World
Welcome to the world
A world of many worlds
A world of no sympathy
Neither do it has empathy
A world of much struggle
Without which there is no survival.
A world of wine and spirit'
Destroys mind and spirit.
Addiction and self control
Either etiquette or respect
A world of oscillations, from bars,
To behind bars.
A world of sexual immorality
Enjoyment that never last
The effect of body lust
Irresponsible reproductions
Murders through abortions
Spread of killer diseases
A grave to many youths.
World of idleness
Indolent behavior
A friend to many losers
The mother to poverty
Crime and disrespect to everyone
Claiming early retirement
From the world of struggle
To a world unknown to the living
A world of hard work and determination
The way to a better destination
A world of world class recognition
A world desired by all generation'
A world of realizing dreams and visions.
poem by Marbet Daniel
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Midsummer Dream
I dreamed of Paradise Garden;
sunlight sliding down
from an infinite sky
through cedar trees to emerald lawns;
oriental poppies six feet high,
Indian butterflies gliding by
through multilayered shades of blue.
Olympian Apollo’s statue
holds a fountain in his hands,
which swirls and mists, sparkles and cools,
cascading down to deep green pools,
where red carp flash on silver sands.
Gazing round I find,
beyond the mirror of my mind,
past flowering trees and shrubberies,
how all around
this fertile ground
the garden is confined
within a fence of iron bars,
which stretches high
to arch across and make a canopy
between me and the sky.
The falcons, hawks and eagles
which circle round are kept at bay
and cannot swoop to seize as prey
the song birds that sing here all day.
Beyond the bars, a crawling multitude
swarms to and fro insatiably
but cannot find its way
into my garden solitude.
Heavens! I thought, the truth is clear to me!
That restless swarming world
is a prison shut in by iron bars.
Only I, in my garden, am completely free!
poem by Brian Taylor
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Watching the seasons
Behind these bars
Children wear thick clothes
Snowflakes land on their noses
They create little snow angels
Snowmen and snowballs
Christmas trees alight
Angels on top of them
It is Winter
Behind these bars
I watch the flowers bloom
Snow melts away
Birds chirping and singing
Lovers hold each other tight
Buds open and grow
Sweet smells conquer the air
It is Spring
Behind these bars
The sun watches over
People change their clothes
They sit at the beach
The farmers harvest their crops
Crop and farmer sharing secrets
Whispering in the heat
It is Summer
Behind these bars
Leaves dance all the world's dances
The nude trees shiver in the wind
People drag their umbrellas
Struggle cleaning their leaves
Thousand referees whistling
The howling wolves unleashed
It is Autumn
Behind these bars
Snowflakes are my family
Flowers are my perfume
Wind is my music
Thank you judge and jury
For I will die here
Watching the seasons
poem by Mariam de Haan
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Scars From A Childhood
Scars from a childhood, some visible, some not
One on my palm from a grill that was hot.
Punishment came from nothing I did.
Clenching my fist, it was something I hid.
Why world? I'm only a kid.
Scars that are hidden by clothes that I wear,
or some on my neck covered by hair.
These are excuses for frustrations at home.
They will stay with me wherever I roam.
Why world? I'm only a kid.
Never understanding just what I did do?
accepting the scars, each one as I grew,
fragmenting my mind so I could not forget
all of these scars that are still there yet.
Why world?
I was only a kid.
Some are visible. They can't be seen.
They live inside me. They're there when I dream.
Can things be different now that I've grown?
Or will they stay with me?
Are they all that I own?
Why world?
I was only a kid.
The kids in this world that are like me,
I wonder with fear what their fate will be?
The world can be cruel when you have no defense.
Where is the decency? Where is the sense?
Why world? They are only kids.
Those that have suffered all of these scars
should see the inflictors behind iron bars.
Until this is seen as a travesty
it will continue so no one will see.
Please world, please let them see.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Classical musicians do this all the time. They want perfection. So they piece things together. Eight bars of this and six bars of that. Glenn Gould said that with a recording he wanted to make perfect versions of pieces.
quote by John Abercrombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass;
Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass;
Ye bars of iron, yield!
And let the King of glory pass;
The Cross is in the field!
A holy war his servants wage,
Mysteriously at strife;
The powers of heaven and hell engage
For more than death or life.
Ye armies of the living God,
His sacramental host,
Where hallowed footstep never trod,
Take your appointed post.
Follow the Cross; the ark of Peace
Accompany your path:
To souls imprisoned bring release
From bondage and from wrath.
Uplifted are the gates of brass;
The bars of iron yield;
Behold the King of glory pass!
The Cross has won the field!
poem by James Montgomery
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Riding With Cats Eyes Nine Lives
riding with cats eyes nine lives
riding in dark or moonlight
riding in cloud shadow or rain
riding with a lucky stars roll
riding at speed in night magic
hitting judder bars in darkness
hitting judder bars hard fast
hitting judder bars all alone
hitting judder bars straight on
hitting judder bars at speed
is heightened airborne rush
is riding racing death in night
is riding in night fed wonder
is heightened seconds flying
is ready road rocket launch pad
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Stone Walls
Written by - Jim Croce
It's been too many years inside this prison
Too many years just for one little fight
He got what was comin'
And I think I served enough time
I'm goin' home tonight
That stone looks mighty cold
And the guard that walks that wall
Is just waitin' to get a convict in his sights
But if I can clear the top
You can bet I'll never stop
Cause I'm goin' home tonight
Chorus:
Because stone walls do a prison
Make iron bars a cage
Any man who says they don't
Never been inside
Cause in time the bars get closer
And at night the walls grow tighter
Do you feel like there's a shackle around your mind?
Now those guards are on my tail
I can hear those sirens wail
But I know that I'll get away and that I'll be alright
Cause I'd rather live on the run
Stand free in the morning sun
Then to spend another lonely prison night
Chorus
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Looked At You
i looked at you,
and saw the fugitive
in my mirror.
i looked at me,
and saw the child in you.
i looked at God,
and saw the stranger waiting.
i looked at the stranger,
and saw my brother in need.
i looked at freedom,
and saw the bars of the cell.
i looked at the bars,
and saw my spirit walk free.
i looked at anger,
and saw forgiveness waiting.
i looked at forgiveness,
and saw the hands of love.
i looked at my body,
and saw the bird leaving the nest.
i looked at the nest,
and saw a world made of straw.
i looked at today,
and saw the scars of yesterday.
i looked at yesterday,
and saw the dawning of tomorrow.
i looked at the seed,
and saw the plant in fullness.
i looked at fullness,
and saw emptiness the seed.
i looked at you...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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But recently I began to feel that maybe I wouldn't be able to do what I want to do and need to do with American musicians, who are imprisoned behind these bars; music's got these bars and measures you know.
We have 1.8 million Americans behind bars today at Local, State and Federal level. In the federal system, which has doubled in the last ten years, over 110,000 people behind bars in the Federal system, probably two-thirds are there for drug related reason.
quote by Barry McCaffrey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epic Poem
This poem is epic
so I named it so
it's more epic than wind and snow
which are in there own respects quite epic
snow could be described as ghetto
and wind can take on epic forms
like a spinning tiger with legs made of iron bars
that would be pretty epic
infact I think that happened in outer mongolia
to a young girl how got hit by the iron bars
sadly she died
but the type of death was one we all wish for
over exposure to pure epicness
like viewing a snail with a lightsaber who flies over mountains made of cheese
that's bleedin' epic
imagine it if you can
can you?
I imagined it so according to the ontological arguement
it exists
im scared now
it may be coming to get me
and although I will suffer the best kind of death
it will be death still
and what is death without life
it is simply death
that was mock epic
those statements aren't as deep as you think they are
they are meerly the ramblings of a crazy man
you fell for it did you not
I know you did for I can see you
your PC moniter is actually a camera
If you're paranoid then you will be scared now
and for that reason I laugh
I can see your fear
I smell it
it is like raspberry ripple ice cream
your fear is wierd
I don't like you anymore
this poem is bleedin' epic!
poem by Torben Duncan
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Bars, And More Bars!
without your lips on my soul,
i can taste nothing.
without your eyes in my darkness,
i am gone blind.
without your tongue on my desire,
my heart stops beating....
without your wetness on my prayers,
my god is dead!
without your moan in my stillness,
even the tomb is harsh and cold.
without your kiss upon my freedom,
everywhere i look...
bars, and more bars!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.
Richard Lovelace in To Althea from Prison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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