Once I was scourged by the task master's horse whips,
consigning me for two centuries to servitude.
I had my roots forever erased by forced trips
to Worlds unknown, where contemptuous attitude
to my skin colour sure relegated me
to the background of an odious racial caste
system in the occident governed by hate.
The cold,snow-covered climes of the West I see,
with cotton fields revived, while blacks tormented strive
for freedom from slavery's merciless back breaking yoke.
with red scars on weary backs,they fight to survive
the chains and fetters the abolitionists broke,
having their sweat and blood water the cotton fields
which bring bumper harvests to their task master's guilds.

------- Author's Notes -------

Tweet

Comments on this poem/writing:

Click here to read other Poems by Joseph Ogbonna

Copyright©2021-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved.   No part of this website, including all pictures and written words,  may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without  permission of the original author of the work.  All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner.  All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: dreamer@dreamersreality.com  so the proper person may be notified.