The Desert Sea

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

My painting study "Desert", and thoughts on those persecuted by colonialism.

The Hanging ships were on the Thames,

The youngest there just nine,

Seven hundred bound with fate,

Sentenced for all time,

Of men and women, children too,

To see a foreign shore,

Never to set foot again,

Upon their homes no more.

Those deemed unworthy to aspire, 

Lost futures to conspire.

No one saw this colonial city

Was built on backs of them,

The slaves who built the cobblestone,

And died at labours end.

A Commonwealth, such a joke,

For whose wealth we all know,

Was filtered to the monarchy,

Their Treasures now untold.

But starving souls of wrong decent,

Were tools to meet an end,

To enrich those with more than most,

They Created a nation then.

Lives of desolation, 

Like deserts on the sea,

Gave birth to you and me.

So when the history tells you,

Of great aspiring men,

Remember these were lies they told,

To bury their unknown sin,

That modern life was built on slaves,

And those it deemed unwanted. 

A desert sea of all who gave,

Whose spirits we are haunted.


Submitted: May 03, 2021

© Copyright 2021 dewey green. All rights reserved.

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