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Death Poems About Slavery

Slavery death poems and poems about death for Slavery. Read and share these heartfelt Slavery death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or Slavery Poems.

Poem Details | by Jacob Reinhardt |
Categories: abuse, age, art, business, career, change, class, color, computer, conflict, death, depression, devotion, flower, green, happiness, introspection, irony, jobs, language, loneliness, lonely, longing, metaphor, nature, pain, philosophy, political, poverty, self, simile, slavery, social, society, spiritual, stress, technology, time, today, together, truth, urban, visionary, wisdom, work, world,

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’



Poem Details | by N. de Jager |
Categories: grief, hair, history, memory, metaphor, nature, slavery,

Dear Southern Gals

Dear Southern Gals

Savannah - oh honey
You beautiful Belle
Your locks long and loose
And silver as well
Muted mementos
Of suffering of pain
Of tears you have wept
Long rivers of rain

Georgia - oh honey
You dear southern Belle
Your story is cruel
And shameful as well
Your tresses have witnessed
In somber green gray 
The heartbreak the pain
The ship of that day

Oh Savannah oh Georgia
You dear Southern Belles
We hear you forever
Plead guilty as well
Now savour your beauty
The new dawn can’t wait
Start combing your hair
It’s time for a braid

Nicole de Jager		April 2018

Poem Details | by Jasmine K |
Categories: abuse, black african american, boat, death, pain, sea, slavery,

Silent Cries

Taunting phantoms butcher his coloured back,
Rivers of blood flow down the cruel chains;
Cries resound through the ruthless ship,
Waking Death from his peaceful slumber.


 

Poem Details | by LEON WILSON |
Categories: bible, christian, death, evil, faith, sin, slavery,

SIN

Destructive evil
Preditor living within
Controlling bondage.


Poem Details | by Anoucheka Gangabissoon |
Categories: abuse, childhood, conflict, confusion, death, religion,

A choice between slavery and death

The ways of life can be really cruel
Such I felt when Fate cast on me a dark spell
I sank low down a bottomless abyss
Hoping the Merciful Angel would give me a kiss
And have me thrown into redemption, by sending me the holy camel!

But no help came, no one ever saw my distress
So I chose to put an end to my inner stress
I chose to live on Earth as a spirit, enjoying total freedom
Maybe I would be offered a place in the Lord's kingdom
But then, something came over me and I chose to toil till I become a Goddess!

Poem Details | by Jerry T Curtis |
Categories: change, dark, death, grave, scary, slavery, voyage,

Little Black Box

Little Black Box
Where You lie Sleeping
Little Black Box
Your Secrets Keeping
You'll Never Talk
In That Little Black Box

UnMarked Grave
Where You Are Wasting
UnMarked Grave
In Soil Basting 
Just another Knave
In An Unmarked Grave

Barren womb
Just Like A tomb
Barren Womb
Life exhumed 
We're all Doomed
In A Barren Womb

Poem Details | by Mike Martin |
Categories: political, racism, slavery,

Death of a Legend

You’ve heard of eeny meanie
How he died a fitting death
He had more fame, it seems to me
Than Shakespeare or Macbeth

Held accountable he was
After capture and a bounty
For the sins Stephen Duncan
Boss of Issaquena County

Too bad for mister miney mo
He’ll have to pay the price
Out to the Mississippi Bridge
We’d love to hang him twice

Held to dangle by the toe
So that everyone would know
Said the slaven to the hangman
If he hollers let him go
Copyright © Mike Martin 2015

Poem Details | by Freddie Robinson Jr. |
Categories: death, freedom, pain, slavery,

A Good Day


We pick de cotton,
yah gib us mo' seeds
We plant de wheat and cornfield,
yah gat us pluckin' up mo' weeds
We gather all de fruit,
yah ke'p it all from us
We boil de dry roots,
yah eat de fresh bulbs
We git the guts, tongue and feet,
yah git the best choice cut meat
We only git to have
what yah th'ow 'way
We only be free,
on de good burial day


A tribute to Frederick Douglas,
a homage to his poem, "We Raise de Wheat"
from "My Bondage, My Freedom" 1853

Poem Details | by Belis Sky |
Categories: black african american, death, slavery,

An Average Day

The water 
The spring 
The sparrow that sings 
The grass 
The field 
The cotton 
The chains 
The whips 
The whoops 
The ache 
The bones 
The blood 
Oh heavenly father 
The blood 
The feet 
The guns 
The street 
The wounds 
The woods 
The hounds 
The men 
That they seek 
Scatter they flee 
Once they run 
Twice they shoot 
Three are down 
Four cheer 
Five grieve  

Poem Details | by Trevor McLeod |
Categories: funeral, grave, money, philosophy, poverty, slavery, sorrow,

I'm Nearing A Store

I'm nearing a store.
Has it something for me?
No; I'm nearing the next.
Hoping there's something to see.

I'm nearing a store.
For something that's new.
Fearing the worst.
Hoping for few.

I'm nearing a store
for something I need.
Only to eat.
Hoping to feed.

I'm nearing a store.
Have I been here before?
Bored again and again.
Hoping that time will soar.

I'm nearing a store.
long after I'm dead.
Placed in a coffin my size.
Hoping I'm free and fled.

Poem Details | by Mark J. Halliday |
Categories: conflict, death, fear, military, slavery, soldier, war,

Vultures Feed - A Quatern

Vultures Feed  (Quatern, 1 May 2014)

The vultures fed upon the plains
As one tribe enslaved another
All they left were the dry remains
Husbands, fathers, sons and brothers

Then came the vikings from the north.
The vultures fed upon the plains.
Knights died trying to prove their worth.
Bezerkers killed and terror reigns.

Europe's Napoleon campaigns
Echoed later by the Third Reich
The vultures fed upon the plains
And two Gulf Wars were much alike

Love will fail, the Moon will redden
Nuclear winter, poisoned rains
Prophecies of Armageddon
The vultures fed upon the plains

Poem Details | by Nick Ruff |
Categories: humanity, philosophy, slavery, society, sympathy,

The First Abolitionist

How shocked the first man must have felt
Who saw the souls behind the eyes of slaves,
As they silently marched down crowded streets,
Making their way to market to be sold.

He must have thought he was crazy then,
To sympathize with such wretched, lowly creatures – 
To find in them a piece of himself,
And feel within the growing pangs of guilt

How lonely then he must have felt,
When all his friends and family could not see
The very spark that he had seen,
And since could never make himself forget.