I Am . . . A Slavery Related Poem

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a poem for my history project. c;

Submitted: March 08, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 08, 2012



I’m the glistening stone
By which chestnut soles tread in their gloomy lone
Whilst juggling luminous platters
That have often fell with a clatter!

I’m the pea-colored shoofly
Hanging above devourers of sweet pie
As they chatter of equality
Whilst colored laugh hysterically.

I’m the overcooked scrap
The chestnut-colored people eat from their lap
Like starving hyenas in prairies
Eat the secluded bush of cherries.

I’m the filthy privy
Whose stench thrives like a green towering ivy
Clinging to air like bees to their hives.
Ooh! Slaves hate to use me all their lives!

I’m the flickering light
With front seats to the slave’s master’s might
That doesn’t budge at their silky tears
Not even when they’ve lost a loved dear.

I’m the knarred coat rack
That the butler hangs the cream-skin’s lilac feather hat
Amidst an array of pricy apparel
He dusts to avoid fatal peril.

I’m the withering hope
Blooming at the feet of the enslaved who mope
As they count the days and dirt on brow
Till these ‘free lands’ are true to their vow.

I’m the land’s blindness
To an innocence of people just like us
Who are that one wildcard we discard
Because we’re shallower than a yard.

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