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
3 Comments
10/21/2022 12:55:34 am
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Nicola WhiteArtist, Mudlark & passionate about helping prisoners on death row to share their artwork and creative writing Archives
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