Phil Smith

Rookie - 47 Points (2nd July 1954 / Donald Victoria Australia)

Native Slaughter - Poem by Phil Smith

White man arrived uninvited
Guns making it easy
Like a swarm of locusts
Devouring everything

Our braves fought
Arrows against guns
Braves fell villages burnt
Women and children slaughtered

Rounded up like cattle
Herded onto wasteland
By government bigots
Who didn't give a damn

Their dignity taken
Leaving broken men
No reason to live
The spirits were calling

Years of this brutality
Anger of generations
Hatred and despair
Causing a human explosion

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Comments about Native Slaughter by Phil Smith

  • (7/30/2008 8:36:00 PM)

    This is a bit of history tinged with emotion, as it should be. I would have thought the writer might have said more. But sometimes the greatest affect occurs when
    things are just left hanging. Maybe, from a fruit tree.

    GW62
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Poem Submitted: Sunday, June 24, 2007

Poem Edited: Wednesday, March 16, 2011


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