The following poems were written for the Tuesday writing class we have here on death row. Our instructor, noted author Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, is a wonderful source of encouragement in our creative endeavors. This unit on poetry is no different and reaches into several styles of poems.
Dreamer’s Gall is a villanelle, a type of poem consisting of five 3-line stanzas followed by a quatrain and having only two rhymes. In the stanzas following the first stanza, the first and third lines of the first stanza are repeated alternately as refrains. They are the final two lines of the concluding quatrain. The villanelle gives an impression of simple spontaneity, as in Edwin Arlington Robinson’s “The House on the Hill”.
Dreamer’s Gall is a depiction of life in a cell and all of its broken ignominy. There is nowhere to run from one’s “self, or the emotional struggle of existing in such a tiny space for decades. In the prison cell the only escape from this unending, living nightmare are dreams . . .
Dreamer’s Gall
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall,
Three paces by four paces in this room;
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
Cold reflections howl the internal brawl,
Sanguine portals open, poisoned thoughts bloom;
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall.
Nothing can break the incarceral wall,
Only the future is left to assume;
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
Merciless light beats upon the broken doll
As it waits to embrace eternal gloom;
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall.
No one is coming to life the heavy pall.
No velvet lining as toxic thoughts zoom,
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
Hiding a pale truth of the final call,
Hope ill-conceived then returned to the womb.
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall,
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
This next poem was an attempt to write from the perspective of Michael Anthony Kerr, a prisoner who was allowed to starve and dehydrate to death in solitary confinement at Alexander Correctional Institute in North Carolina. This state has a bad record for allowing such abuses to occur. Though the family of Mr. Kerr has since been awarded millions in a wrongful death settlement, and a number of staff have been fired, it does not change the fact Michael Anthony Kerr’s humanity like so many others in prison, was denied.
Pantoum of the Forgotten Prisoner is a form of poem derived from the Malayan “pantun”, it consists of a varying number of four-line stanzas with lines rhyming alternatively; the second and fourth lines of each stanza repeated to form the first and third lines of the succeeding stanza, with the first and third lines of the first stanza forming the second and fourth of the last stanza, but in reverse order, so that the opening and closing lines of the poem are identical.
Pantoum of the Forgotten Prisoner
Nobody really cares if you die in this hole,
They put you here for a reason.
Devoid of warmth and sympathy, yet full of need
A drop in the bucket, time to move on.
After all, they put us here to suffer
Banished to a closet where moths eat our existence
A drop in the bucket of an unacknowledged history--
Hang them, shoot them, break them on the wheel.
Only human beings are broken and banished with righteousness.
Punish the weak for the darkness in man’s heart.
Break them, bury them, hang morality by the gate.
Meaningless platitudes cannot penetrate the depths of this hole.
They punish mental illness as if it’s our sin
So I laughed, screamed and raged – they STARVED me!
Because there is no mercy in the hole.
I was full of need and they said, “He does it on purpose.”
In my grief, I wept, screamed and pined for my children,
For my two lost sons.
Full of need, they left me in my weakness.
So I flooded the hole to bring them back.
To the legion of lost sons, to the cohort of the damned
They would disappear our suffering if they could.
Bring them back so we can say ‘LISTEN!’
Listen to our stories and help us.
They could not disappear my loss
Instead, they cut the water off to spite me.
Listen! Please help!
Are you thirsty, Mr. Kerr? So I tapped and banged.
They brought handcuffs to spite me
Then chained me to the bunk.
Are you hungry, Mr. Kerr? So I cursed and spat.
Listen! Please!
Chained, hungry, thirsty, full of need--
Nobody cared as I sat in my filth.
Please.
Nobody cared that I lay dying.
Cloaked in filth, hidden from the world, my sons returned.
Cold and bright, full of need, shining from beyond
I took their hands.
Nobody cares if you die in the hole.
In memory of Michael Anthony Kerr and all of the men, women and children who lay forgotten in solitary confinement. I will remember.
Dreamer’s Gall is a villanelle, a type of poem consisting of five 3-line stanzas followed by a quatrain and having only two rhymes. In the stanzas following the first stanza, the first and third lines of the first stanza are repeated alternately as refrains. They are the final two lines of the concluding quatrain. The villanelle gives an impression of simple spontaneity, as in Edwin Arlington Robinson’s “The House on the Hill”.
Dreamer’s Gall is a depiction of life in a cell and all of its broken ignominy. There is nowhere to run from one’s “self, or the emotional struggle of existing in such a tiny space for decades. In the prison cell the only escape from this unending, living nightmare are dreams . . .
Dreamer’s Gall
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall,
Three paces by four paces in this room;
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
Cold reflections howl the internal brawl,
Sanguine portals open, poisoned thoughts bloom;
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall.
Nothing can break the incarceral wall,
Only the future is left to assume;
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
Merciless light beats upon the broken doll
As it waits to embrace eternal gloom;
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall.
No one is coming to life the heavy pall.
No velvet lining as toxic thoughts zoom,
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
Hiding a pale truth of the final call,
Hope ill-conceived then returned to the womb.
Eggshell whiteness will swallow the fall,
Like the squamous flesh of a dreamer’s gall.
This next poem was an attempt to write from the perspective of Michael Anthony Kerr, a prisoner who was allowed to starve and dehydrate to death in solitary confinement at Alexander Correctional Institute in North Carolina. This state has a bad record for allowing such abuses to occur. Though the family of Mr. Kerr has since been awarded millions in a wrongful death settlement, and a number of staff have been fired, it does not change the fact Michael Anthony Kerr’s humanity like so many others in prison, was denied.
Pantoum of the Forgotten Prisoner is a form of poem derived from the Malayan “pantun”, it consists of a varying number of four-line stanzas with lines rhyming alternatively; the second and fourth lines of each stanza repeated to form the first and third lines of the succeeding stanza, with the first and third lines of the first stanza forming the second and fourth of the last stanza, but in reverse order, so that the opening and closing lines of the poem are identical.
Pantoum of the Forgotten Prisoner
Nobody really cares if you die in this hole,
They put you here for a reason.
Devoid of warmth and sympathy, yet full of need
A drop in the bucket, time to move on.
After all, they put us here to suffer
Banished to a closet where moths eat our existence
A drop in the bucket of an unacknowledged history--
Hang them, shoot them, break them on the wheel.
Only human beings are broken and banished with righteousness.
Punish the weak for the darkness in man’s heart.
Break them, bury them, hang morality by the gate.
Meaningless platitudes cannot penetrate the depths of this hole.
They punish mental illness as if it’s our sin
So I laughed, screamed and raged – they STARVED me!
Because there is no mercy in the hole.
I was full of need and they said, “He does it on purpose.”
In my grief, I wept, screamed and pined for my children,
For my two lost sons.
Full of need, they left me in my weakness.
So I flooded the hole to bring them back.
To the legion of lost sons, to the cohort of the damned
They would disappear our suffering if they could.
Bring them back so we can say ‘LISTEN!’
Listen to our stories and help us.
They could not disappear my loss
Instead, they cut the water off to spite me.
Listen! Please help!
Are you thirsty, Mr. Kerr? So I tapped and banged.
They brought handcuffs to spite me
Then chained me to the bunk.
Are you hungry, Mr. Kerr? So I cursed and spat.
Listen! Please!
Chained, hungry, thirsty, full of need--
Nobody cared as I sat in my filth.
Please.
Nobody cared that I lay dying.
Cloaked in filth, hidden from the world, my sons returned.
Cold and bright, full of need, shining from beyond
I took their hands.
Nobody cares if you die in the hole.
In memory of Michael Anthony Kerr and all of the men, women and children who lay forgotten in solitary confinement. I will remember.
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