Life of a Prisoner
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Poetry
‘Tis just another day behind the wall.
With musters here and musters there
It surely wearies, one and all.
I sit with friends and chew the fat,
Be it in the pod or in the yard,
It’s our daily lives, and that’s a fact.
We meet good blokes with stories to tell,
Guilty or innocent, it makes no diff.
At the end of the day, we are all in cells.
Morning comes with muster and unlock,
A bite of breaky.
As we all take stock.
Friends depart with occasional tears.
Some head home and some do not,
As some like me, are here for years.
‘Tis just another day behind the wall.
With musters here and musters there
It surely wearies, one and all.
I sit with friends and chew the fat,
Be it in the pod or in the yard,
It’s our daily lives, and that’s a fact.
We meet good blokes with stories to tell,
Guilty or innocent, it makes no diff.
At the end of the day, we are all in cells.
Morning comes with muster and unlock,
A bite of breaky.
As we all take stock.
Friends depart with occasional tears.
Some head home and some do not,
As some like me, are here for years.
Date Published
November 11, 2025
By Dan
A drawing of Stitch from Lilo and Stitch, sent to us by Dan.
ISSUE NO. 25
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1 MIN READ
By Sofia
Often I try to self-reflect which turns into waves of rings around me. This picture reflects my days in general; life is static, surrounded by waves around.
ISSUE NO. 25
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1 MIN READ
By Anonymous
The cage stands bold, with its steel-clad mesh. For within its grip, it’s us it holds. Ten foot walls, of cold creme concrete. For outside we muster, like horses in stalls.
ISSUE NO. 25
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2 MIN READ