Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #17.
Our inspiration word is “trap”. I have
written a Mirror Cinquain, a 10-line,
single stanza poem with a syllable pattern
of 2 – 4 – 6 – 8 – 2 – 8 – 6 – 4 – 2.

walls rise
gray and stone cold
where hope crawls in to die
this silent place a weary tale
untold
alone I sit in prison’s trap
echoes of whispered sobs
this endless guilt
my hell
NAR©2025
This is “Life In Prison” by Merle Haggard
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy Richy and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Twenty five years to relect upon the error of his ways. I guess he got what he deserved.
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Justice (we hope) has been served.
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Sometimes when I think about my career and retirement I consider that if I had murdered someone and gone to jail at the age I started working I would probably be out of prison by now but working goes on forever.
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That’s an interesting thought! I hope you love your job!
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A very sad poem.
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Crime does not pay, Lisa! I wish more people got that message. Thank you!
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Wonderful writing Nancy, …gritty and delves deep into the pyche of the imprisoned, …💙
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Thank you, Penn. I’ve never been incarcerated so it must have been the song that inspired me.
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That really does get you. So emotional.
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Thank you, Esther. So pleased to know that.
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Wow! A very touching poem
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Grazie, cara Sadje.
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You’re most welcome
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The despair is palpable! You really captured the mood, Nancy. 👌
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That’s great to know. Thanks very much, Debbie!
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very nicely done!
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Thank you, ma’am!
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The prison of having a conscience is the most secure sets of bars ever. I like that the pic shows a man dressed in white (not orange). He may get up and walk out, but his bars travel with him. Sympathy.
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Wonderfully pithy comment, Liz. I wanted a remorseful man, one who’s had times to think. It’s a quiet poem; orange shouts.
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💖
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Ab excellent and well written Mirror Cinquain Nancy you really caught the real feel of despair. 💜💜
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Thank you, Willow. The songs of Merle Haggard helped a lot, too.
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Turning 21 in prison doing life without parole. I guess Mama tried her best. The mighty Merle lives on.
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Many a boy came of age in a jail cell.
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Yeah, I have a cousin who did turn 21 in prison. He was a juvenile hellion that robbed a grocery store with a toy gun and got sent to the “Dope Farm” for five years. When he hit 21, he went to Huntsville State Prison for a few more, then paroled, and did the same crap all over again but with a real gun this time. Can’t fix stupid. I wonder if he liked Merle Haggard?
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That’s not the first time I’ve heard a story like that. Stupid is as stupid does; he must have missed the cooking and camaraderie.
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Such a guttural, powerful poem for the prompt Nancy! Chilling. 🙌🏽
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Thanks, Cindy. I appreciate your comments!
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