The Circle Now It’s Time

Harold Sanford Carter III/112150

807 Cushing Rd.

Warren, Maine 04864-4600

 

 

The Circle Now It’s Time

 

I cast the circle now it’s time to thrill.

Wonderful him with horns playing the flute.

So if I sing to gaia pan comes quick!

Spirits dancing all of us as a group.

 

How many songs have sung to the earth?

Pagans before me chanting melody.

Apollo has come with his bass gutair.

My worship will become a symphony.

 

What is a sonnet but music to all.

Gods are dancing and bast does the egypt.

Thoth will soon come because there is much voice.

The warble continues love the music.

 

Crackling of fire a ballad of awe;

I will close the circle right before dawn.

Voices from the Crack’s: A Poem

Harold Sanford Carter III/112150

807 Cushing Rd.

Warren, Maine

 

 

VOICES’S FROM THE CRACK’S

 

One’s forgotten heard in the unfruitful.

Emotion’s so potent you ponder us,

In oppression of course the words will cry.

This very poem was written in cuffs.

 

Yes, picture a voice like heard in a dream.

Legions of us talk with little ear.

Shall we vibrate thus know we are afar.

Yes, you hear this voice ye must skry you seer.

 

Us is the desert upon the barren.

We are where humanity will not heed.

Dare you to listen or gaze upon us.

Our voices are heard from the holy east!

 

To the cracks in the dry split by the sun,

Amongst many voices but I am one.

Maine State Prison: A Sonnet

Harold Sanford Carter III/112150

Maine State Prison

807 Cushing Road

Warren, Maine  04864-4600

Maine State Prison

Behind a door steel amongst me concrete.

Distress letters the Pen and Solitude.

My prison is lonely, hence this sonnet.

Orange Pants, orange shirt, and orange shoes.

I cannot leave but only in novels.

Clicking of cuffs and chains disturb my drift.

Books and Pens with Paper become my friends.

Corridor echos from showers that drip.

Doors slam and shut the sounds become normal.

The smell of Pepper spray, the Punishment!

Quiet like a mouse; invisible me.

People of time, outlaws of regiment.

A thousand People in one big mansion.

I will leave in death; this Maine State Prison.