The Slave’s Poem


Good morning.
Through the bushes and forests,
in lands where imaginations could never dream,
we hid in fear.
Our lives began, when at this moment
they ended.
On this and many other days,
filled with sunshine and hope that stretched across sandy beaches,
the world became dark. We cried. The sound of chains; yes music played.
In the quiet of hearts,
we sung
we danced
we fought
we marched
until we reached the shores
that will one day
be built with pens of founding fathers and the labor of our souls. Good morning.

Good morning.
For us, the struggle was no greater than the imagined. They came. A war began.
Americans were prepared to die for what they believed in,
A Bill of Rights
Freedom of Speech
Right to Bear Arms
Protection from Quartering Troops
Protection from Illegal Search and Seizures
Due Process
Right to Counsel, to face our accuser, Due Process
Civil Trial by Jury
No Unusual Punishment
Protection of Rights
and The Powers of States and People.
Many died. We won. We lost.
The banner waved majestically;
a wonderful site.
Our journey to freedom’s footsteps gave birth to a new generation of hope.
It the fields,
we sung
we danced
we fought
we marched
until we reached yesterday. Good morning.

Good morning. Good morning. Good morning.
America’s conscious is awakened.
Our suffering nears it ending. We fight, though apart, together.
There’s joy of hope in prayers,
we sung
we danced
we fought
we marched
Many of men, with anticipation of tomorrow
and nothing left to remember wage war against southern comfort.
They die. We mourned. We lived to see a reconstructed servitude.

Good morning.
In the land and time of kings and heroes
we sung
we danced
we fought
we marched
until we reached today. Good Morning.

With grand feeling indeed.

I take my hat off for ya Mig25.
nice writing

Erasing those words bound through truth and freedom.
Those great embedded cold black ink etched lines.
Few men now could ever know their heart and wisdom.
All gathered one day turned to night, for this freedom plight.
Great men who's honesty and virture so defines.
Now as we remove their meanings from all that they lived.
As they try and remove GOD from all the lines.
Sacred our those hands which held that pen.
And GOD was felt inside their hearts, not to sin.


Don't mind me Mig,,day-dreaming about how BAD we have been as Humans ,,everytime we find reson to make a new law or change an old one,,we just delete the mind-set of where it once was formed,,

Your poem is VERY GOOD and the thoughts of many shown live on through your words here....

Good morning.