‘I Still Stand Tall Like A Tall Oak Tree’
Two poems from a first-time writer
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Creative
Dear About Time.
My name is Little Savage and I am a first time writer.
Forgotten in Prison
Being in prison is lonely at night. It’s waiting for letters that friends and family forget to write. It’s sitting around with nothing to do just figuring out who is who. It’s waiting for visits that never take place from so called friends and family that have forgotten your face. But the day will definitely come when I am free. Then it will be my turn to forget every goose that forgot about me.
Always Judged
Judged by a jury of so called peers. Sentenced to prison to spend some years. Fighting so furious live a captured beast. Unfairly treated to say the least. But I still stand tall like a tall oak tree with my head held high for all to see. Well am I crazy or am I mad to be honest I just believe it’s all just kinda sad. But us crims need to stick together so we can fight the fight to make our lives just that bit better.
From Little Savage
Queensland
Dear About Time.
My name is Little Savage and I am a first time writer.
Forgotten in Prison
Being in prison is lonely at night. It’s waiting for letters that friends and family forget to write. It’s sitting around with nothing to do just figuring out who is who. It’s waiting for visits that never take place from so called friends and family that have forgotten your face. But the day will definitely come when I am free. Then it will be my turn to forget every goose that forgot about me.
Always Judged
Judged by a jury of so called peers. Sentenced to prison to spend some years. Fighting so furious live a captured beast. Unfairly treated to say the least. But I still stand tall like a tall oak tree with my head held high for all to see. Well am I crazy or am I mad to be honest I just believe it’s all just kinda sad. But us crims need to stick together so we can fight the fight to make our lives just that bit better.
From Little Savage
Queensland
Date Published
March 11, 2026
Little Rhyme
By Justin
Here’s a little rhyme. As I’m chilling doing time, paying the price for my crime.
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ISSUE NO. 24
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They talked to us about our struggles, their words we could not hear, while being condemned and held accountable; our vision was not clear.
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ISSUE NO. 24
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1 MIN READ
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