Anybody got a suggestion for a simple-ish recent short poem for use with prisoners doing a literacy course?

It has to be for adults, not a childrens' poem, and it has to be clean. By "simple" I mean not too much difficult language, not neccessarily "without depth."

If you have a copy of Simon Barraclough's Los Alamos Mon Amour, there is a poem called Apologia which I think would be really interesting to do.

As I mentioned on the Glyn Maxwell thread, his poem 'Drive to the Seashore', which fits the bill with regard to shortness and simple language, once produced a really interesting discussion in one of my undergraduate classes. The initial reaction from most people was negative, but once they started to explain their feelings, they came to understand more and more about the poem, and about modern poetry generally. Another poem I always like for relative beginners is Thomas Transtromer's 'The Journey's Formulae'.

On second thoughts Steven, the poem I suggested maybe a little complex for a basic literacy course. Although you could pre-teach the longer words, the form of the poem may be confusing. All the vocab would be familiar to someone in the criminal justice system, but it would be more appropriate at a slightly more advanced level of literacy. Perhaps something like the Daljit Nagra's Journey would be a better suggestion.

What about Sheenagh Pugh's "Sometimes"?
It raises several points that can be teased out. Compressed -it's only twelve lines!
Its rhymes are both masculine and feminine. Worth discussing if "Some men become what they were born for" in the context of a prison classroom.
Or go for Stevie Smith's old ( all sing-along) "Not Waving but Drowning"?

or Carol Ann Duffy's 'Prayer'

I was going to suggest Rita Ann Higgins's brilliant, blackly funny 'Some People' and looked for a link to it. One blogger commented that it made her 'want to go out and key a Jaguar', so maybe not the best choice.

how about 'what the chairman told tom' by basil bunting?

They might just agree with it.

Nude Interrogation by Komunyakaa is one that always sparks conversation and interest.

Impossible to give it its square prose poem shape here, I'm afraid (easy to find it as it should be on the web, first line break after 'Joplin')...

Nude Interrogation

Did you kill anyone over there? Angelica shifts her gaze from the Janis Joplin poster to the Jimi Hendrix, lifting the pale muslin blouse over her head. The blacklight deepens the blues when the needle drops into the first groove of 'All Along the Watchtower'. I don't want to look at the floor. Did you kill anyone? Did you dig a hole, crawl inside, and wait for your target? Her miniskirt drops into a rainbow at her feet. Sandalwood incense hangs a slow comet of perfume over the room. I shake my head. She unhooks her bra and flings it against a bookcase made of plywood and cinderblocks. Did you use an M-16, a hand-grenade, a bayonet, or your own two strong hands, both thumbs pressed against that little bird in the throat? She stands with her left thumb hooked into the elastic of her sky-blue panties. When she flicks off the blacklight, snowy hills rush up to the windows. Did you kill anyone over there? Are you right-handed or left-handed? Did you drop your gun afterwards? Did you kneel beside the corpse and turn it over? She's nude against the falling snow. Yes. The record spins like a bull's-eye on the far wall of Xanadu. Yes, I say. I was scared of the silence. The night was too big. And afterwards, I couldn't stop looking up at the sky.

Yusef Komunyakaa, 1998.

Roddy thanks for that. I may find a use for it myself when I touch on prose-poems with my students. STEALING by C.A. Duffy is also worth considering; not as obvious a choice as it might seem: one of her stronger and more subtle monologues.

Also Morgan's fabulous THE UNSPOKEN.

Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden

I'd lost this for a few weeks, vanished in the black hole of menopause moments, and could only remember a few lines - no title or author - which was driving me nuts cos I really like it. Thanks to all the little google-gods, I found it again.

For a scary moment there I was back in sixth form English, sweating over some literary appreciation paper. Then I remembered it's okay, I'm all grown-up now and I don't use form. Or teach it.

Some things in life are worth thanking my lucky stars for. :D

Recommend lovely poem called 'Gobby Deegan's Riposte' by Susan Grindley in a poetry pocket anthology from Donut by that title.
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