Frankie Quinn with a poem from his expansive body of work.
Blackbird
A blackbird sings outside my cage
Yellow bill small black eyes stare at me with searching gaze
Turning head from side to side watching me within a maze
He puffs his chest plays a tune for praise
Flaps black wings flies free. I thought for a moment
He laughed at me
♞♜♝
A chuckle rose inside my breast, it usually is the other way
It’s man who laughs and walks away. But not today, not
today
A prisoner in a man-made cage,
I now understand a caged
bird’s rage
Why won’t he sing people ask? Maybe it’s because of the
wire mask.
♞♜♝
Each time he blows his magical song I close my eyes and
drift along
To times and places where I used to be. Was it this blackbird
who sang to me?
As I watched trout jump in diamond stream dancing
tumbling in on sunbeams
♞♜♝
Clatter of keys in cold steel door rids me of softness I can
dream no more
The jailer enters my private place “What’s that smile on your
face ?”
He spits aloud
♞♜♝
I don steel mask. I stand up straight and proud
On razor wire black bird will stare
As they carry out my body there
Then they will know who has won the fight
As with Bobby’s lark, we turn a wing to freedom’s flight
⏩ 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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