Mitigations
My prison has its pleasures. Every day
At breakfast--time, spare meal of milk and bread,
Sparrows come trooping in familiar way
With head aside beseeching to be fed.
A spider too for me has spun her thread
Across the prison rules, and a brave mouse
Watches in sympathy the warders' tread,
These two my fellow--prisoners in the house.
But about dusk in the rooms opposite
I see lamps lighted, and upon the blind
A shadow passes all the evening through.
It is the gaoler's daughter fair and kind
And full of pity (so I image it)
Till the stars rise, and night begins anew.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Related quotes
Evening In Prison
evening...falls early in prison
in vain..even if you were a dragon
neither youre expertise in struggling
or your having a brave heart like a double edged fork
help
evening filling in you delicately and slowly
sorrounds you and takes you to many longings
evening falls early in prison
fall the iron gate bolt bars of seven
on the seven closing gates suddenly
then the garden outside starts to weep
at the opposite side over there under the wall
there are three stemmed night flowers
and three roted wild violets
the cloud in the sky
on the branch of a tree the apricot
are terribly in love with the same beloved
to be in prison
then begins to put worries on you
how boring is the darkness
someone on the bare cold stones sings the song
THE CURD'S BRIDE
and me..I am taking a stroll under my berth
and I am fancying impossible things to accomplish
absurd..novice and childish
I wssh to be shot and lost
in a fight nakedly
but this fight must be mannishly
be honest in friendship and in being an enemy
but neither happens so
you hear that sound
the bayonets are fixed on the muzzles of the rifles
the night patrolling of the gendarme begins
day by day..on and on
the evening falls earlier in prison
Ahmet ARIF
translation Metin SAHIN
poem by Metin Sahin
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Stuck In A House (old poem revisited)
Stuck in a house thinking of a girl... my house
Wondering if one day she'd be my spouse
No matter what I do I can't douse
This fire in me, it burns for you
I hope you share it too
O my dear
I wish you were here
This time I have no fear
Not this time
Not this time I'm one who's fine
But I; 'm stuck behind this wall
It's like I'm not here at all
But this prison away from you... my prison
It's just a house right?
Then why isn't there comfort on this cold night...
Sure it's my house, but then why is it so lonely
Sure it's just a house but it's my prison and I'm waiting for you only
poem by David Knox
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The heavenly Prison
Your dark skin, Nita, is my prison,
Beyond which I don’t see any beam.
Your wordless words are its lock
Beyond which I don’t hear any din.
There are like me many prisoners,
Who serve in you for a life time,
Whereas I shall till death takes me.
That the freedom is heaven
Is disproved by your prison.
22.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Libby Prison
Air -- "The Soldier's Orphan Boy"
Down south the Libby prison stood,
The rebel's filthy den;
Rebs in battle prisoners took --
Of course our union men.
And our brave boys, hearty and hale,
To prison had to go,
And few have lived to tell the tale
Of misery and woe.
This prison was a horrid place,
Many brave boys died there,
In rags and filth and wretchedness,
They died for want of care.
Many a brave and noble man,
As he lay sick and sore,
Was thinking of his friends and home
He never would see more.
Fathers, brothers, young husbands dear
Went through that prison door --
Some lived to return home, we hear,
And others are no more.
Many a noble soldier died
In Libby prison cell,
And comrades perish'd side by side,
As many a man can tell.
No loving hand was near a couch
To bathe an aching head --
No loving friend to watch the hours,
Or soothe their dying bed;
No friend to wipe the fallen tears
From off the dewy face --
No loving kindred was there near
To mark their resting place.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Night Worker
A spider spun his web all night
and waited patiently.
A fly had circled all the morn
and buzzed there cautiously.
The spider watched and stayed so still.
No movement did he make.
And by and by the fly descended
and landed wide-awake.
He spotted the spider and tried his best
to escape the sticky trap.
The spider watched and slowly moved
and the fly with his handicap
became the bait inside the web
that the spider made at night.
The spider had his breakfast early
in the morning light.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Shadow-Child
Why do the wheels go whirring round,
Mother, mother?
Oh, mother, are they giants bound,
And will they growl forever?
Yes, fiery giants underground,
Daughter, little daughter,
Forever turn the wheels around,
And rumble-grumble ever.
Why do I pick the threads all day,
Mother, mother,
While sunshine children are at play?
And must I work forever?
Yes, shadow-child; the live-long day,
Daughter, little daughter,
Your hands must pick the threads away,
And feel the sunshine never.
Why do the birds sing in the sun,
Mother, mother,
If all day long I run and run,
Run with the wheels forever?
The birds may sing till day is done,
Daughter, little daughter,
But with the- wheels your feet must run—
Run with the wheels forever.
Why do I feel so tired each night,
Mother, mother?
The wheels are always buzzing bright;
Do they grow sleepy never?
Oh, baby thing, so soft and white,
Daughter, little daughter,
The big wheels grind us in their might,
And they will grind forever.
And is the white thread never spun,
Mother, mother?
And is the white cloth never done,
For you and me done never?
Oh yes, our thread will all be spun,
Daughter, little daughter,
When we lie down out in the sun,
And work no more forever.
And when will come that happy day,
Mother, mother?
Oh, shall we laugh and sing and play
Out in the sun forever?
Nay, shadow-child, we'll rest all day,
Daughter, little daughter,
Where green grass grows and roses gay,
There in the sun forever.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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Who is the Best..?
Once there was this Rishi
Living under a banyan tree
Meditating on Him, all his life
Alone, without worries or wife..
It was a sunny day, bit hazy
Rishi was relaxed and lazy
A mouse came running and fell at his feet
A cat came chasing to eat
The mouse prayed 'Gimme shelter or u sin'
The cat said 'Protecting my food is no less a thing'
Rishi had to decide one way or other
Rishi blessed the mouse to be his daughter
The daughter grew into a beautiful woman
Time came for Rishi to think of her man.
He asked the daughter for any criteria or test
She said she wanted only the Best
Best of a man is a Rishi, said the father
Not really so, said the daughter
When Rishi said, better than a Rishi is the only Sun
No, said the daughter, not the burning hot one!
Rishi asked the Sun, if he knows anyone better
The Sun said, try the Cloud, it hides my power
When Rishi told her of the Cloud's valor
No, said the daughter, I hate the dark color
Rishi asked the Cloud, who betters it
The Cloud said, surely the Wind, it blows me out
Rishi asked the daughter, if Wind is her choice
No, said the daughter, It just makes noise.
Rishi asked the Wind, for a better person
The Wind said, It is the immovable Mountain
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mountain passes her test
No, said the daughter, full of trough and crest
Rishi asked the Mountain for the best in the land
The Mountain said, It is the Mouse that crushes it to sand
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mouse is her groom
Yes, said the daughter, I love his eyes that zoom..
Rishi made his daughter back into a mouse
They married and lived in a hole as their house
The Best for a mouse is mouse, for Rishi a Rishi, for crook a crook
It depends on what you look out for; your outlook!
poem by TheBigThinkg Human
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On average, drug prisoners spend more time in federal prison than rapists, who often get out on early release because of the overcrowding in prison caused by the Drug War.
quote by Michael Badnarik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song of a Prison
Now this is the song of a prison—a song of a gaol or jug—
A ballad of quod or of chokey, the ultimate home of the mug.
The yard where the Foolish are drafted; Hell’s school where the harmless are taught;
For the big beast never is captured and the great thief never is caught.
A song of the trollop’s victim, and the dealer in doubtful eggs,
And a song of the man who was ruined by the lie with a thousand legs.
A song of suspected persons and rouge-and-vagabond pals,
And of persons beyond suspicion—the habitual criminals.
’Tis a song of the weary warders, whom prisoners call “the screws”—
A class of men who I fancy would cleave to the “Evening News.”
They look after their treasures sadly. By the screw of their keys they are known,
And they screw them many times daily before they draw their own.
It is written on paper pilfered from the prison printery,
With a stolen stump of a pencil that a felon smuggled for me.
And he’d have got twenty-four hours in the cells if he had been caught,
With bread to eat and water to drink and plenty of food for thought.
And I paid in chews of tobacco from one who is in for life;
But he is a decent fellow—he only murdered his wife.
(He is cherub-like, jolly, good-natured, and frank as the skies above,
And his Christian name is Joseph, and his other, ye gods! is Love!)
The Governor knows, and the Deputy, and all of the warders know,
Once a week, and on Sunday, we sit in a sinful row,
And bargain for chews of tobacco under the cover of prayer—
And the harmless Anglican chaplain is the only innocent there.
Staircase and doors of iron, no sign of a plank or brick,
Ceilings and floors of sandstone, and the cell walls two feet thick;
Cell like a large-sized coffin, or a small-sized tomb, and white,
And it strikes a chill to the backbone on the warmest summer night.
For fifteen hours they leave you to brood in the gloom and cold
On the cheats that you should have cheated, and the lies that you should have told;
On the money that would release you, you lent to many a friend,
And the many a generous action you suffered for in the end.
Grey daylight follows softly the heartless electric light
That printed the bars of the window on the wall of the cell all night
The darkness has vanished “hushing” when there is nothing to hush—
And I think of the old grey daylight on the teamster’s camp in the bush.
I think of the low bark homestead, the yard and the sinister bail,
And the shed in a hole in the gully—a pigsty compared with gaol;
The drought and the rows and the nagging; the hill where a flat grave is—
The gaol of my boyhood as dreadful and barren and grey as this.
We rise at six when the bell rings, and roll up our blankets neat,
Then we pace the cell till seven, brain-dulled, and with leaden feet.
Bolts clank, and the iron doors open, light floods from an iron-barred arch—
And we start with a start galvanic at the passionless, “Left—Quick march!”
Down the crooked and winding staircase in the great wrong-angular well,
Like the crooked stairs that of late years we have stumbled down to Hell;
We empty the tubs and muster, with the prison slouch and tread,
And we take to the cells our breakfast of hominy and of bread.
The church in its squat round tower, with Christ in His thorny wreath—
The reception house is below it, so the gates of Hell are beneath,
Where sinners are clad and numbered, when hope for a while has
And above us the gilded rooster that crowed when Peter lied.
What avail is the prayer of the abbess? Or the raving of Cock-eyed Liz?
The holy hermit in his cell, or the Holy Terror in his?
Brothers and sisters of Heaven, seen through the bars in a wall,
As we see the uncaught sinners—and God have mercy on all.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Spiderman
Spider man, spider man
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a web any size
Catches thieves just like flies
Look out!
There comes the spider man
Is he strong?
Listen, bud
Hes got radioactive blood
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look overhead
Hey, there!
There goes the spider man
In the chill of the night
At the scene of a crime
Like a streak of light
He arrives just in time
Spider man, spider man
Friendly neighborhood spider man
Wealth and fame
Hes ignorant
Action is his reward
Look out!
Here comes the spider man
To him, lifes a big bang up
Whenever theres a hang up
Youll find the spider man.
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spider As My Analogy For You
the black spider
with a yellow mouth
and invisible tongue
early in the morning
on the jack-fruit tree
webs its house, so
beautifully transparent
against the sun
it is art and functional
at the same time
a house of beauty
and a trap for prey
a fly is trapped and
breakfast is ready
at the center table of
its creation
full, the spider basks
in the rain as i watch it
still thinking about you
and your house of lies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Born In A Prison
Were born in a prison, raised in a prison,
Sent to a prison called school.
We cry in a prison, we love in a prison,
We dream in a prison like fools.
Wood becomes a flute when its loved,
Reach for yourself and your battered mates.
Mirror becomes a razor when its broken,
Look in the mirror and see your shattered fate.
We live with no reason, kicked round for no reason,
Thrown out without reason like tools.
We work in a prison and hate in a prison,
And die in a prison as a rule.
Wood becomes a flute when its loved,
Reach for yourself and your battered mates.
Mirror becomes a razor when its broken,
Look in the mirror and see your shattered fate.
We live in a prison mong judges and wardens
And wait for no reason for you.
We laugh in a prison, go through all four seasons,
And die with no vision of truth.
Wood becomes a flute when its loved,
Reach for yourself and your battered mates.
Mirror becomes a razor when its broken,
Look in the mirror and see your shattered fate.
Born in a prison!
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
Born in a prison!
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
Born in a prison!
Born in a prison!
Born in a prison!
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
Born in a prison!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born In A Prison
Were born in a prison, raised in a prison,
Sent to a prison called school.
We cry in a prison, we love in a prison,
We dream in a prison like fools.
Wood becomes a flute when its loved,
Reach for yourself and your battered mates.
Mirror becomes a razor when its broken,
Look in the mirror and see your shattered fate.
We live with no reason, kicked round for no reason,
Thrown out without reason like tools.
We work in a prison and hate in a prison,
And die in a prison as a rule.
Wood becomes a flute when its loved,
Reach for yourself and your battered mates.
Mirror becomes a razor when its broken,
Look in the mirror and see your shattered fate.
We live in a prison mong judges and wardens
And wait for no reason for you.
We laugh in a prison, go through all four seasons,
And die with no vision of truth.
Wood becomes a flute when its loved,
Reach for yourself and your battered mates.
Mirror becomes a razor when its broken,
Look in the mirror and see your shattered fate.
Born in a prison!
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
Born in a prison!
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
Born in a prison!
Born in a prison!
Born in a prison!
(born in a prison!)
(born in a prison!)
Born in a prison!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Opposite Begins
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.
They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.
Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.
Those masking evil intent.
The opposite begins for them.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
But then,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
They want it quick.
And...
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
To then see someone who genuinely fits,
Well...
The opposite begins pursued.
Oh yes it does.
An opposite begins pursued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Science-fiction Cradlesong
By and by Man will try
To get out into the sky,
Sailing far beyond the air
From Down and Here to Up and There.
Stars and sky, sky and stars
Make us feel the prison bars.
Suppose it done. Now we ride
Closed in steel, up there, outside
Through our port-holes see the vast
Heaven-scape go rushing past.
Shall we? All that meets the eye
Is sky and stars, stars and sky.
Points of light with black between
Hang like a painted scene
Motionless, no nearer there
Than on Earth, everywhere
Equidistant from our ship.
Heaven has given us the slip.
Hush, be still. Outer space
Is a concept, not a place.
Try no more. Where we are
Never can be sky or star.
From prison, in a prison, we fly;
There's no way into the sky.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Shadwell Stair
I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.
Along the wharves by the water-house,
And through the cavernous slaughter-house,
I am the shadow that walks there.
Yet I have flesh both firm and cool,
And eyes tumultuous as the gems
Of moons and lamps in the full Thames
When dusk sails wavering down the pool.
Shuddering the purple street-arc burns
Where I watch always; from the banks
Dolorously the shipping clanks
And after me a strange tide turns.
I walk till the stars of London wane
And dawn creeps up the Shadwell Stair.
But when the crowing syrens blare
I with another ghost am lain.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Locked Inside Your Prison
Your love is like a prison wall
And its getting higher
I get so far and then I fall
I cant get through the wire
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Its as though Im doing time
And you wont free me
Let the punishment befit the crime
And say you need me
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Save me save me cant you see Im innocent
Turn the key that will set me free
Please let it end oh let it end
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Save me save me cant you see Im innocent
Turn the key that will set me free
Please let it end wont you let it end
Ill dig a tunnel to your heart
Let me remind you
Even gonna tear the walls apart
Until I find you
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead- A Prisoner
He died the loneliest death of all,
Amid his foes he died.
But Someone's leaped the outer wall
And Someone's come inside,
And he has gotten a golden key
To set the lonesome prisoner free.
It was not Peter with the keys,
The heavenly janitor,
Who has passed them like a rushing breeze,
The gaolers at the door,
And to His bosom as a bed
Has taken the unmothered head.
A great light in the prison shone
That made the people blind:
Rise up, rise up, new-ransomed one,
And taste the sun and wind:
For I have gotten a golden key
To set all lonesome prisoners free.
Yea they shall soar, shall spring aloft;
Their gyves shall not be rough,
But just the links of love, so soft
That they shall not cast off.
Rise up, my dear, and come away.'
And they went out to the great day.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Sea-Swallows
THIS FELL when Christmas lights were done,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
But before the Easter lights begun;
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.
Two lovers sat where the rowan blows
And all the grass is heavy and fine,
By the gathering-place of the sea-swallows
When the wind brings them over Tyne.
Blossom of broom will never make bread,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
Between her brows she is grown red,
That was full white in the fields by Tyne.
“O what is this thing ye have on,
Show me now, sweet daughter of mine?”
“O father, this is my little son
That I found hid in the sides of Tyne.
“O what will ye give my son to eat,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Fen-water and adder’s meat,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye get my son to wear,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“A weed and a web of nettle’s hair,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye take to line his bed,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Two black stones at the kirkwall’s head,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye give my son for land,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Three girl’s paces of red sand,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye give me for my son,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Six times to kiss his young mouth on,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“But what have ye done with the bearing-bread,
And what have ye made of the washing-wine?
Or where have ye made your bearing-bed,
To bear a son in the sides of Tyne?”
“The bearing-bread is soft and new,
There is no soil in the straining wine:
The bed was made between green and blue,
It stands full soft by the sides of Tyne.
“The fair grass was my bearing-bread,
The well-water my washing-wine;
The low leaves were my bearing-bed,
And that was best in the sides of Tyne.”
“O daughter, if ye have done this thing,
I wot the greater grief is mine;
This was a bitter child-bearing,
When ye were got by the sides of Tyne.
“About the time of sea-swallows
That fly full thick by six and nine,
Ye’ll have my body out of the house,
To bury me by the sides of Tyne.
“Set nine stones by the wall for twain,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
For the bed I take will measure ten,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.
“Tread twelve girl’s paces out for three,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
For the pit I made has taken me,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Stranger In A Strange Land
Was many years ago that I left home and came this way
I was a young man full of hopes and dreams
But now it seems that all is lost and nothing gained
Sometimes things aint what they seem
No brave new world no brave new world
Night and day I scan horizon sea and sky
My spirit wanders endlessly
Until the day will dawn and friends from home discover why
Hear me calling rescue me
Set me free, set me free
Lost in this place and leave no trace
Stranger in a strange land
Land of ice and snow
Trapped inside this prison
Lost and far from home
One hundred years have gone and men again they come that way
To find the answer to the mistery
They found his body lying where if fell that day
Preserved in time for all to see
No brave new world no brave new world
Lost in this place to leave no trace
What became off men that started
All are gone and souls departed
Left me here in this prison
So all alone
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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