Poetry on TV

I’m in my cell, it’s Sunday night, sleep beckons me, but not just yet.

You see I am alone in here, no others inside to worry and fret

But wait, an idea, there is hope in my head,

I think I’ll write a poem instead!

These recent weeks, and months, and years

Have combined in my mind to bring sorrow and fear.

And in 2020 the problem is worse

This Covid 19 is really a curse.

My memory is good, and so long ago

Happiness rained, I never felt low

Time was spent playing with my friends

In Summer especially, a day never ends.

Mum called out “tea is ready” so “wash your hands”

And get ready for sandwiches, usually eggs, very bland.

Bedtime was eight, we were never late,

School next day, mum left us at the gate.

Aged 15 my school was left for good

My fortune to find if I was in the mood.

But often I wasn’t so played in the park

With my mates, till long after dark.

Careers were avoided, but money was low

So, I soon learned to give crime a go.

My friend said simply, “here, deliver this”

And so, I raced off never daring to miss.

I delivered the package and raced on back,

Never knowing my delivery was actually smack.

Time and again I delivered, and then,

Try this pill, take it now, it’s mainly for men.

The next week I started to work once more,

Delivering smack was not such a chore.

Until one day, a stranger did say

“Come with me to the station” this very day.

The judge said “4 years” without even looking up

Off to prison went I, in the back of a truck.

I entered a world that was so strange for me

No friends, no work, Oh, how can this be?

The time passed so slow, and I felt so low,

That when I came out, release was a blow.

Got on the bus, returning home, my friends had moved on

Not even a song, no comfort, no place to hang my hat on.

What can I do I soon asked my self?

Don’t really want to be left on the shelf.

No girlfriend, no money, no home, woe is me

 I need to sell drugs again, oh can you help me.

This cycle of crime is so common now,

But you lose everything and yet somehow

You survive the mess, but how high the cost

You are feeling doomed, and don’t give a toss.

Now life need not be like that, 

Try even harder, do not be a prat.

Remember to listen to a message when it comes

Drugs are not good, no not if you do the sums.

Balance the need of your better self

Get a career, study, work or else

You’ll go to your grave full of remorse and fear

Never knowing real love and satisfaction, oh dear!

The motto of this sad tale is sound

Happiness is made, not found

Believe in you, and those you choose

And life’s rewards will come, good news!