The Cotton Picker Poem by Sambanath Denis
The Cotton Picker
Picking the cotton, pick pick pick!
Sharp prickles cut my hands,
Blood leaves my palms quick, quick quick!
My heart pangs for a lost home-land,
Tears hug my cheeks, drip drip drip!
I put my pain away, hide my eyes,
Keep working, lest I am whip, whip whipped!
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: slavery
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
I was looking online for some inspiration and I found some info about cotton pickers. It was really useful and it helped me write this poem inspired by the Cotton Pickers.
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 7:37:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
