Old Poem Trio, Part II: Whistle, Whistle, Sweet and Low

Okay, part II– as I mentioned earlier, these are just a couple of old poems I found sitting in the bottom of a box, so I thought I’d put them up here. This one was a then-untitled poem written two years ago for yet another unit in my English class, one on To Kill a Mockingbird and Langston Hughes. The exact prompt that I had written for the poem said: “Write an original poem about what I think Hughes would have wanted to say about Tom’s case and how he was being treated by Maycomb’s citizens.” So here it is. Not terribly original, but nice none the less. Enjoy!

Whistle, Whistle, Sweet and Low

Whistle, whistle, sweet and low
through
the birdcage’s iron bars
in the cage
out the window

Snipped my wing
caged me in
Though I’d done no wrong
committed no sin

Even if I could get out
I’d still not be free
Because this world’s an iron cage
a cage meant just for me

They mock me for my darkest feathers,
Condemn me for being of the night
They may have the judge with them
but it does not make them right.

And still someday I believe
the iron bars will crack
Set the clocks, await the hour,
because someday it will come back

Our fathers will all be colors there
not merely black and white
We will all fly side-by-side
And sing into the light

And I will sing a happier tune
Let our voices swell and grow

Whistle, whistle, sweet and low,
Through the birdcage’s iron bars
out the cage
out the window

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