Friday, 27 July 2018

Prison

A poem from 1986



this tent is like a prison cell

nowhere to go

no room to walk

no escape from the ignorant voices

that fill the night

no sleep

the night patrol parades around

looking for someone to talk to

to wake up

to take away the tedium

of nightshift

no light, no sunlight

to stream through no windows

only the non-adjoining cell-blocks

outside



this tent is like a prison cell

it makes me appreciate the home bed

and eight hours sleep

with no morning hour to keep

and leisurely days

with the homefire burning

at the least hint of cold

there’s nothing like discomfort

to make one aware of selfishness

and good providence

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