Looking at these hands of mine
Aren't you, What, you laugh?
Hehe, if you only knew!
From these bruised fists comes a
Spring of milk
You see, my Master hit me hard
Very hard, then he sent me down to
To the Shamba. Hehe, I slashed,
Dug then slashed some more
I saw blood in my fists
Then my Master sent me to
The kraal. Hmmmmm, do you
Still laugh? I told you, my blood drained
Fists milked the cow till their was
A cup full from it's dry udder
A Black Man's Fists
Shadrach S Victor
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 08/15/2020
Poet's note: People perhaps wonder how it is easy to forget that the Africans have always suffered the pains of slavery by fellow blacks and whites and the reality is when those people are free, part of of the world may look at their broken state and be amused. This piece is aimed at people allowing to respect those fellows that survive the oppression of slavery even in the current day.
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Poem topics: spring, milk, hard, laugh, master, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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