The poetry of Bill Clark - incarcerated on death row San Quentin

 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