Frankie Quinn with a poem from his expansive body of work.
Colour
My blood is red like yours
My pearls of tears are mixedWith theirs’s, salted fears bottled
up for years.
♞♜♝
The open lid has spilled on boats
Alone on ocean’s floor, searching
Instinctively for an open door,
To quench the thirst for more.
♞♜♝
Flat on a sanded beach you land
And weep, beneath your shape
A shadow waits, with flags and bricks
To accelerate this tolerance of hate.
♞♜♝
You’re forced to sleep on an empty street
To face those who intimidate, irate and
Colourblind you will find they aren’t as
They rush to close the gate.
The open lid has spilled on boats
Alone on ocean’s floor, searching
Instinctively for an open door,
To quench the thirst for more.
♞♜♝
Flat on a sanded beach you land
And weep, beneath your shape
A shadow waits, with flags and bricks
To accelerate this tolerance of hate.
♞♜♝
You’re forced to sleep on an empty street
To face those who intimidate, irate and
Colourblind you will find they aren’t as
They rush to close the gate.
⏩ 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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