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
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
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,
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,
Destructive evil
Preditor living within
Controlling bondage.
Poem Details | by
Anoucheka Gangabissoon |
Categories:
abuse, childhood, conflict, confusion, death, religion,
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
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,
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,
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,
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.
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 (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,
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.
Poem Details | by
Panagiota Romios |
Categories:
evil, freedom, grief, humanity, international, slavery,
Indeed, we have given up.
Freemen, once, .now happy slaves?
No longer able to drink from a
Church cup.
We are the most willing knaves.
Tragically, to those who unlawfully
locked us up.
Stockholm Syndrome has us by
strongly, by the throat.
We are grateful to our masters for
our lifelong sentence.
Never realizing we must be the butt
of jokes.
Contended, as our end draws near.
Taken prisoner by a phenomenal,
life-demeaning, worldwide power-!hoax!
September 10, 2020
11pm PST