About the Poetry Blog
The poets featured on this page are currently incarcerated, and many of them are in federal prisons far from home. Your feedback is a valuable source of motivation and connection to the outside community. These messages will be passed on directly to the author. Comments may not appear immediately on the site, as our team processes them to mail to the poets.
Click on the poem title to open it up, and then post your comments, feedback, and encouragement in the space below the poem.
The Whole Truth
By MJR
A great man ain’t always the interpreter of great things
For he is imperfect in the eyes of those selfishly unwilling to make change
Yet life offers up all the free-will and right to pave the way
To those who follow our footsteps ambitiously and humbly at a patient pace
The foundation of my struggles is what made me critically elevate my hustle
To bag up a success plan and distribute it to a positive future that outwits the Devil
Move along Blackman is what the oppressor says
I hate you n****** is the message hidden in what he can’t and will not say
Why?
Because he fears our strength and envies our cultural essence
We are the original people enslaved by manipulation and God’s divine glory of blessings
So first time it’s shame on you and second time it’s shame on me
Why is it that the same crime my oppressor commits always seem to get blamed on me
We living in a world where misconception is held in high regards of truth
I guess that’s why when they say “Freeze, put your hands up”
It motivates them to “Shoot”
Just Past the Horizon
By AC
Just past the horizon, I
will fly past the clouds
in my everlasting guest
to just once touch the sky.
Just past the horizon, I hope
to obtain these long dreamt of goals;
the ones for which I’m still fighting
and the ones for which I have fought.
Just past the horizon, I know
I can build the foundations for better days to come
something peaceful, something calm,
something slow.
Just past the horizon, I see
that the unwritten promise
of a much brighter future
is waiting for me.
Just past the horizon, I see
the possibilities of who and what I can be.
Just past the horizon, I’m waiting for
the correct doors to open
which will grant me passage
to tangible dreams and hopefully more.
Just past the horizon, I will
become a totally different person, yet still
hold on to the essence
of what makes living my life such a thrill.
Just past the horizon, I
will attempt to find the ever-evolving truth about my potential
in an effort to eliminate the fears and the doubts
which feed the self-loathing lies
that eat me inside.
The ones that could up my judgement
and keep holding me back
from getting more out of me,
from getting more out of life.
From getting something so simple
and yet so very profound:
Something like the ability to be walking around
with a soul full of joy
and a heart full of pride.
Untitled
By WS
I was a young man on a confused journey.
Lost inside my own world.
Misled to a path that never existed.
A child in the streets who grew up to be a man with no vision
and no presence.
Outside, my world appeared bright,
but inside my heart was full of pouring rain.
The only love I ever knew was the streets.
Until it divorced me,
leaving me all alone.
I became a victim in my own savage game.
Untamed, until I was forced into locks and chains.
But never will I cry.
Everyday is now a blessing.
By losing, a winner I became.
It took me a long time to see it when all
I had to do was just open my eyes.
Sky
By TH
So many times I wondered why
no matter how hard I tried
I just couldn’t see the sky….
Buried deep in a cell
a feeling deeper than hell...
Behind a steel door
same cold concrete
on the ceiling and the floor…
In my heart I know the seasons
still change from summer to fall…
The pain of missing a window pane
leaves me to wonder if there are
any seasons at all….
Missing so much of the outside
world often makes me cry…
I find myself on my knees
hoping, begging, praying
for just a glimpse of the SKY.
Untitled
By PJ
As it is opened, each turn is:
an inhalation, while I lift the pages,
laying them, to my left. It exhales.
As it reads, each word, brings:
a heart-beat. Sprouting, pushing,
it’s a life-giving blood: a story;
a tale; an enlightening; secrets, long held.
“Read.” As the reader’s eyes move,
the book:
quiet; still; says, to me,
as its heart beats.
As it breathes, life sprouts, in: the reader,
an intricate, slow, dance, bringing: inspiration. “I
live in these pages,” it exhales, as we inhale:
it’s tale: slowly, to the left. “Read, breathe.”
The book,
in it’s anonymous, anomaly; read, beneath, each
heart-beat, “This weaver’s tale…” and it reached:
drowsy, dormant, regions in my mind, that were
anomalous, sprouting, watering: emotions, inherited
versification, I couldn’t see, but felt, reading
the book.
Speak Your Truth
By AL
W.O.R.K…!
Allow your words to define who you
are through your actions.
And trust that I see you for you,
because we’re all aiming to reach
the same goal,
A perfect place to embrace
amongst the multicolor of the
rainbow.
Like the North Star you shine brightly.
Therefore cast your light to the voiceless
while striving to provoke change,
Expressing gratitude laughter and love
in the presence of your own pain.
Don’t be fierce in your quest for love
and reject all forms of hate.
For tomorrow is not promised to us
so grab the spotlight now, or forever
wait.
I can see the caterpillar “Trans”–
forming into a beautiful Butterfly.
Bare your soul to the world and
allow life to be your only natural
high.
Let your spirit run wild through the
fields of unlimited youth.
And each day as you become who
you say you are, bravely
Speak Your Truth.
*A special dedication to the Mysteries of the Rainbow. Happy Pride Month. *
Another One
By BG
I just had to write another one
No need to end on a bad note
I have plenty of reasons to smile
I’ve learned plenty of ways to cope
I love to laugh and chill
I love to work and play
God is my savior
To Him, I pray
My family is strong
My friends are well
I am listening to songs
Right here in my cell
So I appreciate what I used to overlook
This is just a page of a chapter of a story in my book
To you I thank for sending a postcard my way
Like your postcard made mine,
I hope this poem makes your day
Pen-Spilled Emotions
By JC
As my pen spills an emotion I don’t know if I’m physically
Able to verbalize the words that are written on my heart
They are caught because I don’t want to release them
With ill intentions, but knowing the truth sometimes hurts
And knowing what these words may cause, I seek the best way
To say them without causing division or discomfort hoping
You’ll understand at times the right words can’t be found
Or said so I rather show you through my action
If all fails I’m left to let my pen continue to spill my
Emotions that are written on my heart
Feel My Pain
By DP
Too young to communicate what’s going through my brain
My lips move, but words, they never seem to escape
Am I f****d up?
Or am I just too young to communicate my pain?
My pops isn’t the blame!
As a child, I was just too ashamed to share my pain
I’m all grown up
Yet I still find it hard to communicate what’s on my brain
My anger is my outlet
But I am confused with not being able to show love
Surrounded by men from different parts of the world
They don’t know me
So why should I show love that can be misconceived as weakness
Trapped inside of me
Is still this little boy who is scared to communicate his pain
Ma, you are the reason I try
The reason I look myself in the mirror just to see what’s in my eyes
I’m not afraid anymore
That’s why I am sharing with the world
The reason this little boy cries
For too long now I’ve been blaming others
When I should’ve been blaming myself
Yeah I know
It’s a harsh reality
But the truth always hurts
Words communicated with truth
Has the power to heal
But words are only a form of expression
To communicate my pain
From this little boy who holds anger and pain
I must first forgive those in order to let this anger and pain die
Don’t ask me why
But this little boy trapped inside of me is now ready
Ready to communicate his pain and tell the world why
The love for my family will never die
I was too young to communicate my pain
But as a grown man
Now I am ready to communicate
What’s on my brain.
Feel my pain!!!
#R.I.P. G-Pops
By AME
You left so fast and I cried for days
I’ve been angry and beyond depressed
All these bottled up feelings are hard to express
I smoked so much weed and drunk so much drank
I didn’t even shower and ran the streets until I stank
Why did you leave when I needed you the most
I too wanted to disappear and be a ghost
I began to hate and be cold hearted
Trouble grew around me in which it all started
So many days are forever dark
I still see your body being rolled on that casket cart
I’m still hurting but I know God called you home
It’s just hard believing you’re really gone
I will see you again and oh what a day it will be
But in the meantime, I’m sorry for not being me
I’m growing stronger and have given my life to Christ
Although you’re gone I know heaven is nice
So please ask God continue to hold my hand
That through all this pain I can humbly stand
I Forgot Who I Was
By HW
I woke up one day feeling powerless & caged.
I felt lost and afraid, it was freedom I craved!
I felt like no one loved me & I was all alone.
I felt young & lost, but I’m fully grown.
Beat down by life & my own mind.
I let myself down and I started to drown.
I could not see tomorrow
& felt like I could barely get through the day.
I don’t know who I am anymore,
like my memory started to fade.
Deep down inside I know I used to be strong,
then I remember that I have been strong all along.
I might have slipped,
I might have fell.
I have to stand up,
I have to prevail.
I must be fearless,
I must be strong.
It’s a mental battle
and I’ll make it home!
Her Name Is Streets
By AG
Why the old cry when the young die?
And when the young die
A newborn opens their eyes for the first time
Crime is programmed
To the mind of the young boy who is searching for love and shelter
Streets, she’s always the quickest helper
What you need money, drugs, violence?
Stop being silent
I love you, young boy
Streets whispers, “I’ve made people rich
I’ve made people poor
I’m that love you can’t ignore
Also I have 3 best friends named
Prison, Overdose, and Death
I’m going to be here for you when no one’s left
I’m Streets, the woman who softly caresses your chest
I grow no flowers, I’m concrete
A hard downfall for whoever falls on me
In case you don’t know my name is Streets.”