Epitaph for a Prison Poet

The title is almost all you need to know in respect of this light-hearted poem. Written at HMP Highpoint in 2016 in response to a suggestion that we would all be better off if I ceased to exist – or an assortment of crude, rude and lewd words to that effect.
Because of its rhythm and rhyming triplets, it seemed ideal to make into a song which I did a couple of days ago. However, maybe it is better to be read quietly. Some of the ideas within , though not complicated, might be quite interesting to reflect upon.

Epitaph for a Prison Poet

Here lies a man of many words

A master of all things absurd

Lines, now read, that should be heard

Words well-written in reasoned rhyme

Rhythm ruled by rational time

Proceeds of creative crime

Words created for common taste

A will to write with minimal waste

Of time, too short, in human space

The space words use is very small

In truth, words use no space at all

Just points in time in mind’s recall

The universe he viewed so vast

Was light that travelled from the past

Ideas that will forever last

Words on paper, black on white

The space between the photons’ light

Or sounds replacing sense of sight

A power pierced perception’s ear

It broke the chains of irrational fear

And comforted thoughts of things held dear

Words and sounds cannot be dead

Whilst held inside one human head

Born again when they are read

These words he wrote some time ago

The span of days you’ll never know

A space that will forever grow

A life lies low upon this page

Perceptions from another age

Eternal life the writer’s wage