Frankie Quinn with a poem from his book Open Gates.

Water

I have moved closer to the river’s edge
To listen as the fresh water forms my thought
Clearing misty clouds to open new fronts
Here I can be alone without nosy memories
Confusing, brightening sunlight cheating the dark
♞♜♝
Open, new cavern, free the cluttering objects
From overcrowded corners where those black webs
Catch the bleak gliding bluebottles before they lay
Eggs becoming maggots that eat the beauty within
Explore freedom from the depth of clear water
♞♜♝
Reach into crispness pick the shined stones from
The bottom where smoothness dried forever
A million passing tears and turned a rage to a rivulet
Allowing new begging for flowering willow’s whiteness
To consume the wilted weeds scurrying for recrimination.

⏩ Frankie Quinn is a former republican prisoner who is now a community activist. He is the author of Open Gates, a book of poetry.   

Water

Frankie Quinn with a poem from his book Open Gates.

Water

I have moved closer to the river’s edge
To listen as the fresh water forms my thought
Clearing misty clouds to open new fronts
Here I can be alone without nosy memories
Confusing, brightening sunlight cheating the dark
♞♜♝
Open, new cavern, free the cluttering objects
From overcrowded corners where those black webs
Catch the bleak gliding bluebottles before they lay
Eggs becoming maggots that eat the beauty within
Explore freedom from the depth of clear water
♞♜♝
Reach into crispness pick the shined stones from
The bottom where smoothness dried forever
A million passing tears and turned a rage to a rivulet
Allowing new begging for flowering willow’s whiteness
To consume the wilted weeds scurrying for recrimination.

⏩ Frankie Quinn is a former republican prisoner who is now a community activist. He is the author of Open Gates, a book of poetry.   

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