Steven LaWayne Nelson is incarerated on death row Texas. Here is a selection of his poetry:-

A LETTER
 by Steven LayWayne Nelson

A letter slid under my cold steel door reminds me that I am not without friends.
How I have hungered for word from you.
I anticipated your letter, it warms and enlivens me and I take comfort in it.
 
I wonder what made you take that first step and write? What magnetic field first drew us
 
Together?
Destiny?
Fate?
Karma?
Predestination?
 
Recalling with a smile how cautious you were in the beginning
Asking questions…
How does it feel to live on death row?
What is solitary confinement like?
How do you stand the desolation?
What are your thoughts?
 
In the beginning you were a stranger, but somehow so familiar.
Your supportive words reminded me of who I am.
Seeing life’s simple beauty through your eyes moved me out of the darkness
You brought depth and breadth again to what being human is.
 
Our friendship was not a simple moment, but a cumulative process, it required time, demanded patience.
Reading your letter, for a few moments I am enveloped in the warmth of your words.
 
I discover the lack of boundaries.
And yet, I realize memory isn’t quite enough.
At day’s end
As I close my eyes and relax, I feel so insignificant, so helpless.
 
Yes, your letter reminded me that in your eyes I have worth and meaning
Your friendship is cherished, keeps me centered, gives me strength.
Yet in deep contemplation – holding a magnifying glass to this reality
I realize that in the end I walk this road alone.
 
by Steven LaWayne Nelson
Texas death row
 
 

DIVINE LOVE
 
 
Trust in the fact
I will never leave you nor turn my back on you.
Trust in the fact
Wherever you go or live, that I am with you.
Trust in the fact
I will always be loyal to our people of faith.
Trust in the fact
I wish to reside wherever you are.
Trust in the fact
In life and light we will never be separated.
​
 by Steven LaWayne Nelson
Texas death row

​BROKEN!!!
 
 
In all those around me I see
There is something that astounds me;
It is also there in the mirror,
That thing that links us together,
A genetic marker from earliest history
Belonging to the whole human family
I mourn it in myself
I pity it in all else
For every malicious and unkind deed
For every evil and hatefully planted seed
For every hurtful and mean word spoken
It’s all because we are broken
Shattered from a deep within
Inclined to every despicable sin;
We are hurt and longing for love
Yearning for healing from above
We direct our brokenness at each-other
Treating one-another as enemies not brothers
While our love leaks from within
Rooted in every manner of sin
Give pity and patience to one-another
Loving them as sister and brother
Remembering you are broken too
Treating others as you’d have them treat you.
 
​ by Steven LaWayne Nelson
Texas death row

​FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
 
 
A voice echoes in the dark
with no one to hear
trepidation in the voice
A real sense of fear
A man’s entombed as if dead
Placed on death row
An outcast of the world
With no empathy shown
a dead man in a casket
Even he gets a string
in case he comes alive
There’s a bell for him to ring
that man on death row
needs a bell to toll
His voice echoes in my heart
so this poetic string I pull.
 
​by Steven LaWayne Nelson
Texas death row

 Bill Clark has written many poems during his incarceration.  Here are a few of them.  More to follow.  Listen to the audio below to hear Bill introduce himself and talk a little about his poetry.

​A Cell with no bars
I can’t think of them as bars…
If I do, I’ll lose my focus, my perspective, my sense of reality.
I can’t acknowledge them as bars…
If I do, I’ll lose my compassion, my understanding, my sense of humanity.
I can’t endorse them as bars…
If I do, I’ll lose my courage, my will, my sense of direction.
I can’t accept them as bars…
If I do, I’ll lose my individuality, my purpose, my sense of productivity.
I can’t validate them as bars…
If I do, I’ll lose my morals, my principles, my sense of integrity.
I can’t regard them as bars…
If I do, I’ll lose my hopes, my dreams, my sense of being.
I can’t look at them as bars…
If I do, I’ve already lost!

​Almost Dead
 
I don’t see the day you see,
The Day I see is bleak.
I see bars, well armed guards,
And things that make hearts weak.
 
I don’t see the sun that shines,
I don’t see the stars.
I see pain, misery,
And bodies etched with scars.
 
I don’t see the flowers grow,
I don’t see the trees.
I see doubt, hopelessness,
And lots of trembling knees.
 
I don’t see the rivers flowing.
I don’t see the streams.
I see waste, deficiency,
And men with shattered dreams.
 
I don’t see integrity,
I don’t see the truth.
I see men who’ve lost their mind,
And men who’ve lost their youth.
 
I don’t see the happiness,
I don’t see the pride.
I see doom, suffering,
And men whose souls have died.
 
I don’t see prosperity,
 I don’t see the life,
I see strain, emptiness,
And faces creased with strife.
 
I don’t see the day you see,
Each day I see I dread.
Cause every time tomorrow comes,
I know I’m almost dead.
Bill Clark
PO box K-80703
San Quentin State Prison
CA 94974

​Hope
 
Hope is our armour…
Through hope we gain might
It strengthens our heart
And wills us to fight
 
Hope is our shield…
It’s life’s greatest buffer
It wards off despair
And makes us all tougher.
 
Hope is our sword…
It cuts through depression
We wield it with vigour
And measured discretion.
 
Hope is our goblet…
We drink from its lip
We swallow huge gulps
And not just a sip.
 
Hope is our nectar…
It’s more than a notion.
It nurtures our being
Like a magical potion.
 
Hope is our feast…
Our ravenous passion.
We want a full platter
And not just a ration.
 
Hope is our light…
It brightens our road
Enhances our vision
Which lessens our load.
 
Hope is our future…
Mankind’s greatest need
Success is the flower
But hope is the seed.

Bill welcomes correspondence, and you can write to him at:-
​
Bill Clark
PO box K-80703
San Quentin State Prison
CA 94974