I'm fine.

Really the best sentence in the world.

It conveys to you that I am in fact healthy.

It says, "I'm happy," or I'm so peeved right now!

I'm fine - fine like worsted, scratchy wool -

I am seething, scathing, itching, jumping out of my skin -

But

       I AM FINE.

I'm fine.

Today I am glossy, shiny, superimposed.

I am fine - like silk and satin and gold dust -

Starry eyed, smooth and rich -

I am happy, ecstatic and pleased as punch -

And

       I AM FINE.

I'm fine.

Behind closed doors I let the crystal tears flow.

Today I am hiding, huddled and sad.

I am fine - like roaring oceans, dripping taps and rain -

I am so sad and alone with my thoughts -

But

     I AM FINE.

I am fine.

Today I am angry, seething, ripping red.

I am fine - like flowing lava, pent up steaming, hot and mad.

I cannot tell you the truth of my life -

But

I AM FINE.

I'm fine is the most amazing sentence.

It is gossamer strands of silken ties

Used to cover a thousand lies

Because the world doesn't want to know

If your happy, sad or on the go

It's best to say it, all the time

Don't stumble, stutter or whine

Say it loud and proud

Hide your truths

BecauseI AM FINE.

She told me she was eighty-four and had been homeless for the past seventeen years as she helped me push my car. A part of me wanted to pause and look at her, but I knew that if I did, my car would crush her. I hadn't asked for her help. She just saw my car break down, put down her knitting, and helped me push. As we pushed, she explained her life, but she wasn't a typical old geezer blabbing about her grandchildren. She called herself Maryam and told me she immigrated to the US when she was forty-three with her only child, eleven at the time. They were poor, but never too poor to give to people poorer. When she told me about her house, I asked why she didn't live there.

"A family with six children live there now. I'm old. I'd just die there anyway."

Nobody recognizes me

My friendship no one will claim

An unnamed passage thru my cosmos

Does anybody know my name?

Is there somebody who can identify me?

Does anyone know my nickname?

Unidentified on my universal trip

Does anybody know my name?

Who can perceive my character?

As my life goes up like a orange flame

Just a foreigner on my earthly tour

Does anybody know my name?

Nobody understands my label

At times I feel a sense of shame

Remaining nameless as I travel

Does anybody know my name?

Am I not known?

For one person to befriend me is my aim

Anonymous on this voyage of life

Does anybody know my name?

your eyes are wet 

your speech is reserved 

your touch is distant 

your soul lacks luster 

your heart beat is stagnant 

your eyebrows are furrowed 

your face is swollen 

your ears are red-tinted 

your teeth are gritted 

I can´t really tell what your feeling?

but all I know is I better take a seat 

Your performance can cause tidal waves

No matter how big or little

Your behavior can influence others

You create a ripple

Your feats can flow into others

Causing others to fizzle

Your words can sway others into depression

You create a ripple

Your acts will swell into a tsunami

Leaving others as emotional cripples

Your deeds transform others into dejects

You create a ripple

Your negativity can destroy others

Turning them into brittle

Your actions can alter others into loveless souls

You create a ripple

Everything you do can ruffle others

Even things that seem simple

Your life can modify others

You can create a destructive ripple

Today we hear from Carrie, who has grown so much as a result of our weekly Prison Creative Workshop. She looks at how prison effects Mothers, and how they have implemented a scheme to stop families suffering; and explains why there is a revolving door on the front of the prison.

Visits in prison are very important. We are lucky to be here because the prison is very family orientated. We are encouraged to keep in contact with our family.

Where I work, (the library), we offer a free service called Storybook Mums.

The ladies read a story into a recorder, which then gets put onto a computer. It then gets cleaned by yours truly. I take out all the background noise, remove any mistakes by the reader, and remove my hints etc… Once that is done I add music and sound effects to the clean version, mix it up some and then burn it to a CD and pass it off to the relevant kids.

It is a wonderful experience for the women when they want to hear the finished version, and often tears flow.

It’s such a privilege to do this job as I’m helping to keep mums and dads stay in touch with their children.

Prison doesn’t just affect those of us inside. There is a huge ripple effect and it’s the children who suffer the most.

So big up Storybook mums and dads. Big up the two of us who create the magic for families who live apart.

Some people wonder why girls are in and out of prison like a yo-yo.

There is a very simple answer. Too many silly sentences, like 2-4 weeks long and no time to be rehabilitated. I suddenly find myself in a situation where my rehabilitation back into society has been taken away from me.

In 2014, the government passed a law stating that any prisoner who poses a flight risk or is on the escapee list, may no longer be considered for open conditions. This includes me due to an attempt to escape, but who wouldn’t try after getting 99 years? When it comes to release, prisoners like myself will be kicked out the front gates and sent on their way.

I will have served 10 plus years before I get the chance to get out. Already the world has changed whilst I’ve been stuck in this micro community! I have no idea where to start. How will I cope on public transport? Where do I go to claim my benefits? Upon release we are given a travel warrant and £47. Not much to start a whole new life with.

In some way though, I’m luckier than others because I have to stay in a hostel for ex-cons. I’ll have support to a certain degree, but I fear that one wrong move and I’ll be right back inside. Rehabilitation my arse. Where is the justice in putting us through this confinement, only to be terrified to the point where we actually want to come back to prison? It costs so much money putting and keeping us locked up, so why not use some of that money to help us!

I’d love the Secretary of State to read this blog. Some of us have changed. Some of us want to have a life outside of these walls. I have a family and a partner waiting for me. Some of my family won’t see me released. I won’t get the chance to say my final farewells. Yes, it’s a punishment I’m in here, but should I be continually punished for the rest of my life? Always looking over my shoulder? Miss Secretary of State, for the love of God, give me a bloody chance! Let me show you what rehabilitation can do for people like me. Before my life ends and I’m buried in an unmarked grave!

If you would like to read more from our Creative Writing Workshop then please join Prose for free and subscribe to the Letters From Prison Portal. We are also on Twitter as @PoetsInPrison, have a Facebook page "Letters from Prison" and we’re on Instagram also as @PoetsInPrison.

Because I cannot speak

Some people call me weak

They paste on me a label

calling me disabled

But true strength is for

Much much more

Than decorating bones

Your strength is just on loan...

...Merely temporary

Mine's extraordinary.

The language that I hear

Speaks much deeper than my ear

You sing the songs of earth

Which have so little worth

I hear the songs of angels

Because to earth, I am a stranger

And though my tongue is weak,

I have words too deep to speak

I wish that you could understand

those words that do not come from man....

...but from the other land.

(Thoughts of my autistic son)

Again, bitter conclusions define everything. Forbidding generations hope.

I just know life may not obtain peace.

Quickly rotting souls turn unfounded

Vain went Xaroncharoo.

You're zero

This one was really challenging but super fun!!!

Woke up

The sound

Of my wife's 

Piano playing 

Softly.

Strange...

Her funeral

Was yesterday...